Photo A Day Dec 1st "Red" {my favourite colour of all}

Days #19 & 20 Dashing Through The Aisles

So my Christmas marathon has begun. Food, drinks, recipes, gifts, wrapping paper, letters to Santa, advent calendars, Christmas parties and Christmas lights a plenty!

It's my personal mission to see that my family has an awesome Christmas this year. We deserve it! And I'm putting in a lot of work {fun work, of course} to make it happen.

From 10pm til 0030am today, I stalked every aisle of our local department store for lights, platters, decorations and trinkets for the treasure hunt I'm having for Mr 5 on Christmas morning. People everywhere, trolleys clashing like dodgem cars at the Melbourne Show, lines and line of people waiting to splurge on their credit cards {I was good, I don't have a credit card!} and not really a temper tantrum to be seen. Maybe because it was almost the middle of the night and most {rational} people were in bed.

I don't have many more gifts to buy but I really have left the most difficult until last, only because I've been putting it off for weeks. I've made a shopping list in order to put together an awesome Christmas dinner and can't wait to get cracking!

I couldn't be more excited. It's a special Christmas for many reasons- my daughter's first, my son's last as a preschooler and my first without my Mum. Apart from that part, I hope it will be a joyful day with lots of happiness and laughter. I want to honour my Mum by making Christmas a special time for my family, she made it a tradition to be together, to celebrate and enjoy each other's company, the least I could do is make sure the fun never ends.

Ho Ho Ho December 1st, glad you're finally here!!!!

L
xo

Photo A Day Nov 30 "All Done" {with bad health}

Photo A Day Nov 29TH "Black" {my nephew's cool Vans}

Day #18 Where For Art Thou Sleep?

Less than 5 hours sleep every single night is just a tad ridiculous. Can't function day or night! Too switched on to sleep, too tired to do anything about the thoughts flying around.

I've tried medication, eliminated caffeine, reduced meal sizes, reading or listening to music before bed, exercising before bedtime, warm milk, everything my exhausted brain can think of and NOTHING is working.

I'm again thinking about everything I have to do all at once, rather than trying to get through one step at a time.


I had a really bad "Mum Moment" today but thankfully it only took a tiny while to get through it. It's not even upsetting thoughts that are keeping me awake. Maybe I'm getting a bit too excited too early that it's nearly Christmas?!

The kids are still up and I wish with all my might that I could sit and relax in peace but nope, they are loving life and loving a little adventure in staying up late.

Thankfully tomorrow is a day off and I can catch up on what my brain has been too fried to accomplish this week. I can't believe I actually called a doctor "dude" today. Shows how out of whack I am!

I thought the exhaustion would come a lot sooner into my mum-of-two journey so I'm appreciative that I got a bit more time before my body decided to fight against rest.

Life could be so much worse, I know. But it's pretty damn near impossible to function in this state!

Fingers crossed that tonight is my lucky night. Yes, I'm talking about sleep.

L
xo

Photo A Day Nov 28th "I'm Thankful For" {unwinding down after an extremely difficult day}

Day #16 & 17- End of the Year

I don't understand why people wait for a new year to make a fresh start. You're alive? Make one now.

I'm working hard on my copy writing/social media business, going back to finish my studies and going back to nursing in 2014. And most importantly, reaching my healthiest potential. BUT I'm making changes right now for all that to happen.

People don't always get second chances {or even a first} so get on with your life now. It'll be too late and you'll miss your opportunity to be a better person and better at everything you do.

Photo A Day Nov 26th- "Message" {this one's my favourite and I need to remind myself of that}

Day #15- Something Unexpected....

I write a lot about my family, especially my kids. But tonight I just want to admit to one thing- once they were in bed, I was so relieved and relaxed I fell asleep on their playmat on the floor.

The end :)

Days #12-14 Family Time

With the BFH {Big Friendly Husband} off work since Wednesday with a horribly nasty bug and the two squidlets at home, I must admit it's been really nice to have some family time. We are currently working opposite shifts, which means half-and-half parenting. It's not fun. I'm up early and in bed late. So is BFH. And by the time Friday comes, our grumpy pants are well and truly worn in for the week.

This weekend, we had planned a very special surprise for Mr 5. A trip to Santa's Magical Kingdom. He loved it and has stated he will return next week {although my bank account has denied his demands}. Christmas brings out the warm and fuzzies in me. The sparkles, the decorations, Christmas carols, Santa's crazy hair and beard, the arduous yet exciting task of wrapping presents. I've been very prepared with gifts this year, making and sticking to lists and budgets. It'll be sad when Santa has left the building!

Can't bloody wait. Christmas is that little bit more special this year. It's my daughter's first, and the last during which my son won't be a school boy. But that brings up many feelings which will, I'm sure, be published by me another day. The one other issue is that this will be the first Christmas without my Mum, and obviously yet another beautiful occasion without the Main Man {Dad}.

I'm determined to not let the heart-wrenching moments of this year put a dampener on my Christmas Cheer. The kids {as well as the BFH and myself} deserve a happy holiday. Part of the reason why I think I've been able to cope with the loss of my Mum is that I clearly can't forget that in the year that we lost her, I gave birth to my girl. Blessing is an understatement.

We visited Mum's empty house on Friday night. I was fine until BFH asked if I was fine. Then suddenly I realized I wasn't. Staring at her car sitting uselessly in the driveway, the bare garden and seeing the weeds waist height in the backyard was enough to break me.

Something about seeing my childhood home empty and lifeless takes my breath away. Makes me feel a bit speechless, like all of a sudden my childhood has been wiped as the man and woman who made it so wonderful just aren't there anymore. I, at times, I admit, can be quite materialistic. But I can explain. I place a lot of meaning on little things. Especially when they are tied to very important memories of times in my life.

I have my mum's hair brush and old glasses put away in a special box. I have my dad's old slippers. I have flyers from my first play. I have the ball from my first hockey goal tucked away. I have kept a lot of little trinkets and treasures from my children's first moments {and years in Mr 5's case}. My sister said something quite poignant to me this weekend, as we discussed how we were feeling. She said of Mum's things "It's just stuff now that she isn't here Lauren, you have the memories of her". I guess I keep hanging on to this stuff because I don't want to forget one thing about her. I'm not ready to let go and feel the full brunt of the pain because I understand how much it'll hurt. Plus, I can't afford to spend weeks not wanting to get out of bed, no matter how much I sometimes want to.

I want to tell my children the truth about her, not made-up stories because I've forgotten parts of her. So that's why I have kept a lot of little seemingly useless junky items along the way, triggers of memories that made me angry, happy, smile, cry or laugh.

For me, it's not about having lots of stuff or the best stuff, it's about what that stuff meant to me and continues to mean. With Mum, it's me finding it hard to let her go and wanting to hold onto her memory SO BADLY that I'm scared to throw anything out, especially if I know when she had it last. I know, I'm creepy but it's me and it's honest. I didn't want to throw out an old shopping list because it was her handwriting. And I loved her neat handwriting.

With Dad's, it's holding onto things because it's been so long since I saw him and it's only going to get worse. I miss him so much.

The compounding heartache of losing one parent then the other in tragic circumstances means a few things to me. It means I'm grieving and I won't stop. I forgive myself in the moments where it feels like my world is ending and I need to stop and have a cry. I'm kind to myself at times where I let people treat me like rubbish and all I want to do is kick them in the kid {violent response, I know}.

My sister and her family are not considered my immediate family, they are my family. We are one. The heartache means family, life, memories, special occasions and milestones and the way in which I see the world, treat others and expect to be treated myself has changed. I wouldn't be human if they hadn't.

I have noticed in the last few weeks that things can wait and I've let worries and stressors slide. I rest and don't feel guilty. I listen more and talk less. I dream more vividly and enjoy my sleep. I enjoy silence. I'm more frightened of the new feelings of grief that have arisen but I know I'm equipped to deal with them, or get help from someone who can really help, at the very least.

It's been a rocky year, not like any other. I keep this in mind, no matter where I am, who I'm with or what I'm doing- "Life: come at me".

Surely 2014 will be a great year for my family, we've really, truly earned it.

FMS Photo A Day Nov 24th "A word" {the most important word}

FMS Photo A Day- November 23- "Simplicity" {the perfectly simple Gingerbread Man}

FMS Photo A Day- Nov 22nd- "Behind" {these goblins behind me}

Day #11 November 21st- Colouring In Is Awesome! It Takes Me Back....

So tonight I've been colouring in, illustrating and writing down some ideas for my children's book. I come home from work every day looking forward to drawing.

I don't want to publish a book to say I published a book. I want to publish a book solely for my kids. I want them to have something they can hold onto long after I'm gone.

Memories, in particular visual {like instant video recall in your brain!} and auditory ones can turn fuzzy over time. I want to leave my children with something that they can touch and see. I believe in the preservation of memories and moments.

A lot of parents get caught up in taking pictures of their kids and of events they all attend. Birthdays, Christmas, that first lost tooth, school plays, sports days, holidays. I want to be 1000% present during these moments. BUT I want to remember every fine detail long after they have come and gone. So that is what I use some of my spare time for.

I keep a Project Life Journal, which I have dedicated to my children. Every day, if not every second day, I take an hour to wind down and think about what we've all done and what we've enjoyed. I write about the fun times and I write about when the day got a bit rough.

I keep scrapbooks and baby albums for both my children. I don't know what initially drew me to the idea of journalling and scrapbooking but I like the idea of combining art, craft, writing and keeping a diary. It is quite relaxing and it's nice to be able to look through our weeks together.

I don't want to focus on morbid thoughts because they are not a big part of my mind, but I think about what I want to leave with my children as I grow older.

I want my children to feel, no matter how old they are, that they are loved and cherished just as much as the day I first held them in my arms. I want my children to be independent and healthy and be able to look back on our lives together and feel proud and happy.

I want my children to be proud of me, I want them to know who I am and to understand the journey that has been my life. I want my kids to feel that warmth I feel when I remember my parents. My kids are so young right now, I just can't imagine them grown up {which is wonderful because I cherish every second they are so innocent, dependent and small!}

When people are gone, memories are all you have. So I want ours to be the greatest.

I've taken hundreds of pictures of my kids, well maybe a few thousand. Photos are a big part of my life. They take me back to the exact "cheese" moment. There is no greater feeling than being able to be a part of your children's growth and look back in times when you feel sad about how quickly time moves us on.

There is nothing to be sad about, I really just wish we could all stay together forever.

I want with my children what I felt I had with my Mum. If we come anywhere close to that, I have fulfilled  my most desired dream.

I may not be a perfect Mum. In fact, sometimes I lack confidence, I get impatient, I lack energy to play all the time, and sometimes I really just want a little peace and quiet. But I try. And losing my Mum has given me more passion, motivation and strength in everything I do, especially parenting.

Being perfect would be boring and we'd have no goals to strive to achieve. So with here I am with all my quirks, enjoying every moment I'm breathing. I really am. When you break it down, that's exactly what I'm doing.

I've seen life come and go and I want to stay for as long as I can. I owe it to my children to improve my health, my mind and never ever forget that they are the first and last thoughts that enter my mind every day.

I don't ever want to leave this piece of Heaven I'm in.

L
XO

Photo A Day- November 21st- "I Wish I Had This"

"I Wish I Had This" {moment all over again}

My Mum is introducing her youngest grandson to her youngest granddaughter

One of the most precious memories I have, I will never forget how I felt when this picture was taken. My world was complete.

Day #10- Where has my energy gone?

I'm burning the candle at both ends. I'm sleeping really badly. Or is is that I'm not sleeping enough? Constantly drained and my concentration is really lacking. Bloody hell.

How do I get my spark back? I'm not down, I'm happy and content at the moment. Do I need vitamins? Do I need a complete diet overhaul? I don't even have the energy to go out for a run. I know there are worse problems I could be facing but God, just can't cope right now with this fatigue.

If anyone has any deep sleep remedies or anything that could help bring my energy back, I'd love to hear from you. Sorry to whinge, I just need help and expertise! Nursing knowledge is not enough at this point!

L
XO

Photo A Day November 20th 2013 "Communication" {I was only gone for fifteen minutes and this is what I come back to}

Photo A Day November 19th "where I ate breakfast" {my 545am view}

A Snapshot of My Thoughts in Writing

Parenting- Huh?

Day #9- Beaming.

I don't read as much as I want to. I went through a stage when I couldn't keep my head out of books. I went through a stage where I downloaded a book a day {thanks Amazon}. But with two small Goblins, one a fair bit tinier than the other, as well as a fledgling small business and a part time job on the go, reading falls by the wayside.

Over the last two and a bit months, I've managed to read my first {gulp} "self help"-style books. I was looking for books about women, parenting and motherless daughters.

The first I managed to get through was "Motherless Daughters" by Hope Edelman. It was FANTASTIC and I really felt connected to the messages in the book. I even highlighted pages on my Kindle App, I was that exited that I'd found something to help me feel less alone at the time. I then got through "I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye" by Brook Noel and Pamela Blair. More depressing than the first, but the messages got through to me just as loud and clear.

It's hard to not feel alone when the person you felt the most connected to in your life dies. Who do I go to for comfort? Who do I talk to when I want to tell someone that I feel ripped off, scared, depressed and alone?

These two books were comfort to me. They informed me {not reminded me} that clearly, I'm not the first and only person to face the loss of a parent {or both parents} at a young age. So I'm not alone and my thoughts are not rare or unusual.

Sometimes, I wish I could switch off. I think about my parents every waking minute. Sometimes the thoughts bug me and upset me to the point of tears, but mostly the thought of them makes me silent. I take a gulp of fresh air, close my eyes and be still until the pain subsides. It's strange how I actually feel physical pain when thinking of my parents, when it's a combination of sadness, grief, disbelief, anxiety and depression.

I don't believe I'm clinically depressed. I do however believe I'm grieving. And right in the middle of a bad patch. Grief is good in a way, it provides you with the emotions and thoughts to really accept the loss you've had. It makes you slow down. If I didn't slow down during these bad patches, I'd surely collapse.

Sometimes, when the thoughts of my angel parents hide for a while, I feel like I am not scared of anything. And it really feels good. When Dad died, I felt guilty for smiling. I felt guilty for laughing, even for enjoying a meal. Because Dad wasn't here to enjoy the same small pleasures. When Mum died, I realized that there is no point in feeling this guilt. It won't get me anywhere but a bad place I don't want to be. I've found a place in my mind and my soul where I feel free.

I'd like to go for a day without feeling this grief. It's so overwhelming and all consuming. If I let it, it turns me into a tired mess, one who doesn't want to get out of bed.

I've learnt to accept that my feelings about what has happened to our family can change at any moment. I need to just go with it. Not fighting the grief is the key to surviving it. I don't want to live with depression and anxiety. My kids have every right to have a happy, healthy Mum, one who is there in mind and body for them. I know as they grow and get to understand what we've all faced {if I've taught them enough about living with compassion in their hearts}, they may be sensitive to the issues and not be hard on me for having a rough day. As long as they know that they were the ones to pull me through this, everything will be okay.

I have a thirst for life, a thirst for sunshine and peace. I want to feel every breath enter and exit my lungs. I love silence but can't get home quick enough each day to hear my babies laughing and chattering away.

Mum and Dad would want a happy life for us. They would wish us peace, love and comfort. If they were here, they would be encouraging me to be the best possible wife, mother, sister and friend I can be. They wouldn't let me slack off. I can't afford to. What if I died tomorrow? That's why EVERY SINGLE DAY has to be peaceful and beautiful.

Mum and Dad, I say this to you both. I let you go now. I will never stop grieving for you both. I will always love you both and miss you both so much my heart hurts. I am so proud to be your daughter. You are both with me every step of my life. I will not forget you both. I wish you were here with us. There is nothing more either of you could have done to be better parents. You supported me, you loved me, you were strict and you were loving at the same time. To lose both of you within 9 years is something I cannot comprehend. I never thought my life would be this way at age 31. And yes, it is painful that you are both no longer here. Very painful. But yours is a love story that I will tell my children with warmth in my heart and their children will know how much you loved each other. My children and my grandchildren will know you both as if you were here to show them who you were in the flesh. It makes me beam with pride to talk about you both. You mean so much to me, everything to me.

I will be there for my sister for all of her days. I will be her friend, a support to her and will be there when and if she needs me. I am proud of her. I enjoy the friendship and sistership we have. We make a good team. I am thankful to you both for giving me a sister that I know will be there for me too. We will make it and you both will continue to be proud.

I'm not giving myself the choice anymore. I'll live happily ever after.

Photo A Day-November 18th "Mirror" {peekaboo I can't see you}

Day #7 & #8- I have Super Powers.

And like magic, I am in control of my feelings. Nothing is getting to me anymore. I'm calm and focused. Even when I'm having a "moment" {a collective of seconds or minutes where I am thinking about Mum and Dad}, I can talk myself out of panic. I used to live so crippled in fear that I wasted time and wished it away, just so the bad moments would have less chance of finding me.

I haven't felt so relaxed in years. I'm in love, I'm happy and I'm carefree. My concentration and memory have improved. My motivation has skyrocketed and I'm content with what I have, what I don't have and with what I want and don't want in my life.

It feels great to finally feel in some sort of control of my emotions. I say how I feel, without thinking about other people first. If something needs to be said, I will say it. I don't care what other people think anymore. I'm not letting people's opinions guide my life.

I have been having nightmares about my Mum again. I had one this afternoon and I was so crippled by fear, I couldn't even tell my husband what happened. I went quiet, walked outside and sat in the warm sun with my eyes close until I felt I had calmed down and could cope again. It worked. Some deep breaths, a cool glass of water, some sun on my bare shoulders and I was okay again. I haven't forgotten what happened in the nightmare and I probably never will. But that's okay. I'm really starting to believe that dreams have very deep, significant meanings and I'd like to think that those with whom we want to communicate the most and most likely can't in every day life, come to visit us in our dreams to give us messages and to show us what and who is important.

Why else would my dreams have the same recurring theme? 18 times over, I have had this nightmare/dream. I'm being told something or subconsciously, I am thinking something that I am too afraid to confront in my waking life.

Now that I don't live in fear of anything, it's time to confront all this head on.

Happiness is really something that we should all seek and we should all work on. It doesn't always come easily. I've faced a lot in my life. I've been in abusive relationships. I've lost those I love the most. I've faced significant depression, anxiety and panic. I've had an eating disorder to learn to overcome. There's not much I can't do.

I know I can do it and this weekend just proves it. I can live a happy, peaceful life and learn from the bad times. It's a bad moment, not a bad life. Just take them as they are and move forward.

Cheers to the good times in life, I'm so thankful so all the good things in my life right now.

L
xo

Day #6- November 15th, 2013- Rites of Passage. Tick!

So today, with only 4 weeks to go until the end of the year, I did my first kindergarten duty at my boy's pre-school. I had the time of my life, I think I had more fun than the kids! {and was probably more tired by home time than they were; goodness, I had to come home to a warm fire and a cuppa after playing outside in the rain and in the sandpit}

Twenty-two 4 & 5 year old boys and girls at 830am on a Friday: can't beat the energy level in that room. It made me buzz with delight. I never EVER have energy that early, I usually take a while to warm up but I was on fire. Yelling out the rules of tiggy, hide-n-seek and Duck Duck Goose. Laughing and giggling with the girls when they talked about the boys in their class. Giving out cuddles to those who fell and scraped their knees trying to run and keep up with the others.

I'm not sure what it is like for parents around the world, but in Australia, "kinder duty" I think is a rite of passage for any Mum. In the old days {when I was a kinder girl}, kinder duty involved coming in to kinder during a morning session, cutting up fruit {usually apples, bananas and oranges} and pouring glasses of milk for all the kids. Then you'd serve all the kids their healthy snacks, maybe read a story to the kids then go home.

Today was the time of my life because every kid, like TWENTY TWO of them, listened to me and more importantly, had exciting news for me and wanted me to join in their games.

My son was pumped I was there, and he was a pleasure to be around. The teachers saw my presence as a welcome break from this busily active group of dreamers and I happily took over the fun and games. I'd lost my voice by 11am but was so happy to be out in the weather.

I forgot how magical it was to be 4 and 5 years old and the biggest drama in your life was either waiting for a swing, trying to get sand from the sand pit out of your shoes and not being happy with the snacks Mum has packed for you.

I have a good memory {usually} and can remember a few things about my kinder year at Roycroft Kindergarten. I loved reading stories and story time. I loved my Mum bringing my sister in for kinder duty so I could show all my friends how big I was as a big sister {I was the smallest of all my friends}. I loved playing "families", "shops" and "schools" with my friends Cassandra, Belinda and Elizabeth.

I ended up remaining friends with these girls until we all went to different schools for our high school years. I remember being chosen as Mary {as in Jesus' mum} for our end-of-year kinder play. I had one line, which my Mum reminded me of many MANY times as I grew older. "Well that'll have to do then", I said to my pretend-husband Joseph {one of my friends who was chosen to be Joseph purely because his name was actually Joseph} of the stable I was to pretend to give birth to my dolly baby Jesus in front of all the kids' parents.

I remember hatching chicks in incubators, playing with bunnies in the play yard, doing lots of paintings, writing stories, playing dress-ups.

I look back tonight at this magical, dreamy time and push myself to try and remember every detail. It seems like so long ago, it was 27 years ago to be exact. Clearly my life until now, like most people's I imagine, has gone by really quickly. Until this week, I have always worried about the future and reflected too deeply on the past. I've taught myself and learnt the hard way that this very second is the most important in my life. Blink and you will miss so much. In my mind, I feel like I'm about 19 or 20 years old and I love it. My body doesn't feel so young thanks to some pretty hefty arthritic patches. And after two children, ouch. It just doesn't keep up with me as well as it used to.

I can't describe how time going by quickly make me feel. It scares me. I don't want my life to ever be over. Life is too short. You really only get one chance at every thing. You can go back and re-attempt to create moments in your life but really, one time is all you get. At everything. So just enjoy yourself, don't sweat the small stuff and don't look back unless it's to fondly remember how privileged you are to be living right now.

Day #5 - I've Enjoyed Today

Today has been great.

I've enjoyed being with my two little ones.
I enjoyed a burger with my son.
I enjoyed almost falling asleep on the couch when we got home.
I enjoyed eating a meal with no interruptions.
I enjoyed hearing my husband say he'd bath the kids and put them to bed so I could go out and spend some time by myself.
I enjoyed the quiet.

Now I'm enjoying a crushed pear and grapefruit cider, some camembert and Angry Boys on DVD.

Ahhhhhh. Happy Thursday.

Hope you all had a relaxing day and nothing got to you!

L
XO

Day #4- Coming Home.

I had a great, busy day at work. The rain on the roof really helped me get into a routine and I was on a roll and didn't stop til home time. Worked on my breaks, kept quiet and head down-bum up happened.

On my way out the door, I felt a bit of a buzz. I missed my kids! I normally just focus on work, otherwise I'd probably fall apart in misery from thinking about what my kids were up to without me.

I basically ran through puddles, nearly got hit by two cars to get to my stop and get on the first tram back to my car.

The whole tram ride home was spent looking through photos I'd taken of my kids on my phone.

It felt like I floated to my car and sped at 300kms an hour back to where they were waiting for my husband and I to come and get them.

So in love. My son's laugh and my daughter's smile make my day. My son's hugs and my daughter's giggles make my life.

Could I ever be more in love with them if I tried? Yes. Every day!

20 Truths about Me

1. I have {and certainly don't suffer from} anxiety and panic disorder which I proudly now manage without medication. The worst panic attack I had was over my son growing older {he was only 4 weeks at the time}, it was, looking back, totally irrational because it's something I can't control. I used to need to feel in control.
2. Sometimes I like sleeping more than being awake.
3. Music is the next important thing in line to me after my family, my friends and our health.
4. I am emetophobic {petrified of vomiting} and it was professionally diagnosed
5. I can play 8 instruments
6. When my sister and I were small, we joked about who would we live with if our parents divorced. I chose my mum {because my dad couldn't braid my hair for school}
7. I wanted two children from the time I was five. I wanted two boys and they were going to have the names Riley and Harrison. And now that I have a boy AND a girl, I'm perfectly content that I got one of each
8. My biggest fear {other than my emetophobia} was losing my parents. Now I fear nothing.
9. I joke about everything. Even sad things. Actually, especially sad, awkward things.
10. I talk a lot. Everyone I know would say I talk too much.
11. I could never be a vegetarian even though I rarely eat meat.
12. I am extremely messy. I leave piles of my things everywhere. Yet I have super neat writing and am perfectly organized at work.
13. I don't know at this point if I will ever go back to nursing, even though it's what I wanted my entire life
14. I sometimes put about 6 tablespoons of milo in a mug of milk- it's my treat
15. I hate smoking. And people who don't respect my right to hate smoking
16. I want to see more of Australia before I travel overseas again. In fact, I don't have a great desire to go outside of Australia, I love it too much
17. It has taken me my whole life to be confident in who I am- I was teased a lot in my first years of high school which didn't bother me until I realized years later how cruel those people were and how much it affected me and how I expressed my feelings in public
18. I have to wash my hair every day, even if it doesn't need it
19. I really want to start cycling
20. I don't feel my beliefs fit with one certain faith, I'm secretly hoping that there is a religion out there for me that encompasses everything I believe in. I need proof to believe my parents and other lost loved ones are either still with me or in some kind of Heaven

Day #3 November 12, 2013- Coping versus Surviving: there's no difference to me

Coping and surviving are the same thing to me. I'm always at one end of the spectrum. Living it up, laughing, having the time of my life or MEH, just hanging in there. I'm determined to find a healthy balance where my way of life is to just have the time of my life, like 95% of the time. Otherwise what is the point?

Daily life and the bigger, larger, more difficult or humbling events in life can be a struggle for even the toughest person. Sometimes people wish they had more. More time, more money, more friends, more children, more work, more leisure, more holidays. More sleep. More justice. More answers. Sometimes some people want less. Less hassle, {everyone} always wants less drama, less bills to pay. We all want less heart ache. Less death and destruction. Less crime on the street. Less crime behind closed doors. Less chatter. Less work. Less fighting.

Finding ways to cope and exploring options seems to be what my life is all about these days. I need to find ways to fall asleep, to exercise more, to have less travel time to and from work. I need to cope with raging emotions and floods of tears at the most inconvenient of times.

I need to cope with people who at times know less about common decency and common sense than anyone I've encountered. I need to cope with ratty tired children, when I'm the one who should be laying down for an afternoon nap.

I have learnt over the years to cope with ill health, with which I seem to experience a lot of. My immune system was weakened as a child on an abundance of powerful medications and now I pay the price. A bad night's sleep could mean three days of aching pain, fevers, migraines and general misery.

I think about ways to cope with loss and difficult or awkward moments in my life and how I will move forward. I break everything down into very tiny parts and work on each part until I get my head around it.

When I was fearful about having a C-Section with my second child, I put it down to the fear of not knowing and the fear of not being in control. So I researched and planned and I controlled the small parts that I was able to and let the rest be. I survived and it was a perfect birth experience. I couldn't have asked for better, in fact.

I prepared for the loss of my father in a very graphic way. I pictured how he might pass away, the surroundings, his face and his body, the emotions I'd feel, the hurt I'd feel and the pain in which I'd watch my mother lose the love of her life. It was so graphic it kept me up at night. You may think it's unusual to be thinking about all this but I've always thought ahead and thought of the worst and most of the time, it's kept me sane.

So when Dad finally did pass away, it was a horrifying time but not as horrifying as what it would've been had I not have prepared myself. It worked and I'm so glad that I dealt with what was happening as it was happening, rather than hide away from the reality.

When I have to cope with awkward situations, I get very tense. I replay a lot of what I think will happen in my head, a variety of scenarios. It might seem unnecessary to many people who are reading this but if it works, I say stick with it.

I talk a lot when I'm anxious, in the hope that I make a funny joke to lighten the load or break the ice. Humour is a coping mechanism I rely on. I make jokes when I hurt myself. I make jokes when I'm trying not to cry. My sister and I made jokes through the planning of our mother's funeral service, I guess because that's the only way we knew how to get by at the time.

Coping mechanisms can be gut reactions to what you are seeing, feeling and thinking. These mechanisms defend your body and mind against the onslaught of physical and mental anguish. I'm glad I've never been one to really bottle up feelings, I like talking and talking helps me. That is one way in which I try to cope.

Surviving to me means just getting by each day. Not really enjoying what's going on, just clinging by the skin of your teeth to your life. Or life is taking you for a ride rather than you controlling where you go in life. Coping is a temporary form of surviving.

We need to cope to get past hurt, pain and torment. We need to cope to help others cope, to lead by example. We need to cope to feel better. We need to cope mostly because we don't get a choice or rather, don't like the alternative.

The alternative to not coping is being acopic. Increased stress, increased tension, and mental strain are not things I want more of in my life. No gains can be made if you can't focus on what you need to do and who you need to be. If I can just cope through some minor rough moments, I'm usually okay. I like the sense of achievement I get when I get through a bad day. It's a small win.

If you link up all the small wins, you can be proud of something really quite huge in your life. If you don't give up, you will get there and you will be happy.

It's not all about believing, even though self-belief is a major part of coping with difficult times and people. It's about stamina, attainable goals and being proud of who you are and what you've achieved at the end of the day.

Small steps. One step at a time. I focus on one star in the sky rather than the universe as a whole. Each small step will get you to a better place. Some days, it's okay to just feel off. It's okay to have bad days. What is not okay is to let the bad days keep rolling for so long that you can no longer see the light. And to relish in bad days is not okay. We don't need to play victim to our emotions, we can take control, even if for a short while.

Be kind to yourself and be patient. Trust your instincts and listen to your inner voice. Remember every valuable piece of information you've been given and use it. It might not have meant much to you back then but it could be your saving grace. In the end, you can only love yourself and pray that others love you for who you are and for who you want to be.

Take a deep breath. Go for a walk in the fresh air. Call a friend. Draw a picture. Colour in. Write a letter. Play a game. Exercise. Have a slice of cake. Ask for help. Don't ever be afraid to deal with situations a piece at a time. There is no harm in asking for help. There is no gain from feeling overwhelmed.

Remember that bad moments pass and that you're never given any challenge that you can't face. Don't let your feelings build up to a point where you just might explode. Just take a second and regroup. Talk, write, have a cry or take a nap. Let a few quiet moments pass and things will look brighter.Think about what makes you happy and don't avoid the pain or the awkward situations. Everything works together to make you a stronger version of yourself.

You don't have to listen when people say "there is always someone worse off than yourself". When you are hurting or grieving for something or someone you have lost, you are thinking of yourself and rightfully so. Pain is subjective and you can't really feel it for someone else. You can only support other people in their difficult times and request the same support in return.

Take every small win and move forward. There's much to be gained from looking at what you can do and have done rather than what you can't.

L
xo

Photo A Day- "Clouds" {I Wish Mine Looked Like This Today}

It's a grey dreary day in Melbourne this morning and my view from my room isn't the greatest. I wish it would either rain or become Spring like it should have been for the last almost three months!

Summer hits us in 3 weeks and the warm buzz is still nowhere to be found......

L
xo

Alone In A Crowded Room- Day #2 November 11, 2013 *LEST WE FORGET*

Usually, I talk. Well, most waking moments of my life, I am talking. It's sometimes mindless chatter but mostly it's meaningful to me. I talk when I'm nervous, I talk when I'm with someone, I talk to myself and I talk in myself. I really don't stop. Unless I have a damn good reason.

After thinking about the beginning of this journey in my life last night (LINK), quite late I might add, sleeping through my alarm and still making it to work on time, I sat in my office alone and in silence. And I LOVED IT. With two small children, one a chatterbox at 5 years old like me and the other 9 months old and trying so hard to become the chatterbox her mother is, I rarely have a moment of silence. It was golden.

It was so golden that my mood actually soured when someone came in for the morning and simply asked how I was. And kept asking me questions about my days off. And they didn't stop for at least ten minutes. I really just needed silence for the first time in months.

Half way through my day, after spending the morning busily catching up on 5 days worth of back log, I was asked what was wrong.

I paused. So something must be wrong with me because I'm not talking endlessly? I can't just sit in silence? I felt like I had to talk and talk and talk just to prove nothing was wrong. Even though I had nothing to prove and certainly didn't have to prove anything to the people I was with.

But I didn't talk. I just said "I'm all good, just fine". And I really was. I just wanted my mind to slow and to focus on just getting through the day. With less than 3 hours sleep under my belt, I needed shoosh and a full day of it.

And there it was, my first moment where I didn't conform to a vision people really have of me- a chattery, outgoing person. I wasn't chatting and I was sitting peacefully in the quiet buzz of the radio beside me. The retreat I really needed came to me in the middle of a crowded room.

After a few hours of just working, I paused again. I was no longer enjoying the silence. The buzz of the radio and the falsities of "how was your weekend" when no one really cares couldn't hide one very serious fact- I was quiet because I finally saw through the false, mindless chatter and realized I was totally alone. And I'm the only one in the room who really cares about me.

These people don't know me. They don't know me outside of work, which isn't really much different from the work me. They don't know my family. They don't know at all what I've been through of late and the reason why today of all days, I chose to be quiet and still. All I knew was I really felt alone for the first time in my life. Like there was no one I could call if I wanted to talk, just to hear a friendly familiar voice that would give me comfort and take the edge off.

Feeling alone when you are surrounded by people is quite uncomfortable, I've decided. It isn't right and doesn't sit well with me. I'm used to talk, noise, laughter, busyness. Silence has its purpose when you need a bit of peace in a busy day but it makes me realize that it really is just me in this world now, to fight battles for myself and for my husband and children. I make my own decisions. I chose my own pathways. I say no when I feel the need, I say yes when I want to. I could do this before, when my parents were in my physical life, but now, I can't do what I always did {and probably shouldn't have}- consult Mum.

I relied on her too much. I needed her approval. I wanted to please her and make her proud of me. I did a lot in my life just to try to make her proud of me. I can stand on my own though and my decisions are my own. She left me in such a way that I know I will be okay. In the end, I don't have a choice.I've gone from nervous with no self-belief to reassured and growing confident in myself and my abilities by the day.

I look down at my feet and realize that she gave me the very foundation I stand on. Watching how my parents lived their {far too short} lives has helped shaped mine and has shaped how I want to move forward. And even though I might spend most of my day every day by myself, I am not alone. My family are always with me. My friends are always with me.

I'll move forward as I'm ready to and that's something my parents really would be proud of. I've been able to find peace in a busy day and not fall apart. It's a win. A major win.

L
xo

The Beginning's The Best Place To Start. Day #1 November 10, 2013

It's hard to know where to start as the last 7 months has brought me to many new beginnings, in lots of areas of my life.
Starting my story might however be easier if I relive from January this year onwards.

It was hot. Stinking hot in Melbourne and I was bloody uncomfortable. I was 37 weeks pregnant and having enjoyed my baby shower, I was preparing to give birth to our second bubba and for the final time. It was to be a planned C-section {thanks to a rough first birth experience} and I had planned a lot of the details {as I tend to do} of the birth. I wanted my husband to be in there with me, to do the cord-cutting "Dad" stuff and I wanted my Mum, who was minding Bubba #1 at our place, to bring him in after the delivery to introduce him to his new sibling. We knew the sex of the baby from 20 weeks onwards. And thanks to a big OOPSIE by me, I let slip in the presence of Mum that the baby was a certain gender. And hopefully {yes, I can't ask her}, that she kept her promise not to tell a soul, even my excited sister who had made her mind up gender-wise what she thought her newest family member would be.
The birth was uneventful, apart from the fact that I was apparently in labour anyway and in the recovery room, it went a bit haywire. I was in pain and lots of it. In fact, I started to go a bit loopy. I was calling out for Mum and wanted her to come and get me and take me to her house. I was on repeat. I just wanted Mum. So once the morphine kicked in and I was back and settled on the ward with my new child, and I saw Mum, life was sweet again.

Mum walked into the room with my boy {Bubba #1} and met her newest granddaughter for the first time. It had such an impact on my inner light. I lit up from the inside. I got to feel how she felt. Having a baby girl to raise would be so much different than raising my son. I immediately started panicking about how much I didn't want her to be such an emotional and anxious person like me!

The first 5 weeks of Ruby's life were amazing. I was on maternity leave, enjoying the summer weather, spending lots of time at home with my son who was new to the kinder scene. It was just so perfect to be home with both of them. I missed out on leave with my son and went back to work to ease the financial pressure at home. Week 6 gave us our first curve ball. Ruby ended up in hospital with a stomach bug. We stayed {quite uncomfortably} overnight on the Cockatoo Ward at RCH, where her weight and feeding pattern was closely monitored. It was so hard to watch a tiny cannula be put into her wrist and to watch her have the tiniest amount of blood taken as routine. I felt sick to my stomach. I always felt like this when someone had to medically "tamper" with my son.

The morning after our admission, my Mum left work to come and visit us. As we all sat there waiting and waiting and waiting for a discharge time, Ruby was examined by trainee doctors. Her hip clicks in particular were examined by these doctors. I was the one who gave permission for them to examine her, which involved a little discomfort on Ruby's part. But Mum was the one who left the room in a mess when Ruby cried out and whimpered. I knew these people had to start learning somewhere and I gave them the go ahead to start learning here and with my tiny 6 week old daughter.

Mum was not okay with people touching her granddaughter. And making her whimper for any reason. I came down on her like a tonne of bricks because I reminded her I'm the mother and I make the decisions for Ruby. It was the first time I shocked myself as words left my mouth. I was upset she made a scene and was upset that she didn't trust me to leave Ruby in experienced hands.

As the days went by, I kept thinking about Mum's dramatic exit from the ward that day. It wasn't as much dramatic as it was honest. She was honestly distressed by what I let my child, her new granddaughter, go through. It's not that she didn't trust me. She just never liked to see or hear her family members in pain.

By week 10, I was in a wonderful routine of breastfeeding, washing, cleaning, {not so much} cooking, lots of playing, walking and planning the lives of my tiny family. Mum visited often, but not as often as I wanted her to {well, I wanted her to live with me, despite us clashing because we were so similar} and I felt instantly warmed by the affection in which she held my children. It melted me.

Week 10 is where my wheels were turning round and round nicely but Mum's wheel were starting to fall off. Mum went off work on stress leave and from what I gathered, she really was under the pump. Little did I know that a sinister and possibly sentinel health event had occurred which would begin her downward spiral.

I spoke to Mum every day. More than once a day. Usually about rubbish, but mostly about her and us. She told me she was very anxious. We had a lengthy discussion about really how gruelling hard my father's death was on her. 3 hours worth of her pouring her heart out about her anger, her grief, her heartache, her pain and her beliefs. We spoke about Dad almost weekly but this was the first time she actually voiced how angry the loss had made her.

This conversation was to be the last conversation I had with Mum where I believe she told the truth to me about how she was feeling. From then on, she tried to hide the reality of what could have been knowingly happening to her from me. Two weeks later, my Mum was to die.

The weekend before Mum died, Mum did a strange thing. After rejecting my offer of staying at our place with us, she called me back as I'd just gotten home from her place. She wanted me to come back and get her. This was unusual. I drove straight back, helped her pack her bag and loaded her in the car. We got to 5 minutes from my place on the highway and she said two sentences that I swear came from someone else but through her voice. These sentences were clearly spoken, but showed some ounce of confusion, resolution {as I was to find out}, forward thinking and reflection all at once. I will never repeat to anyone what was said, out of respect for my Mum. But it was a poignant moment and one that would shape my thinking for the next 7 months.

Mum spent the weekend snoring on the couch. Sleeping. Not eating much, sipping water when I got cross at her to. But she wouldn't move off the couch. By Saturday night, I was concerned enough to ask my sister to make the long drive to our place. She did so the following morning.

It was then that Mum managed to get herself off the couch, not showered still, but out into the fresh air of our yard and she sat and talked with my sister about a lot of things. Many things I wouldn't know about and I'm not sure at this point in time that I want to know. But I know enough now to say that by this point, I think my Mum knew she was going to leave us sooner than she'd ever expected.

She had apparently spoken of all the losses in her life and was questioning what she did to deserve so much heartache. My mother was beautiful inside and out. She didn't deserve the heartache, she was the LAST person that deserved an ounce of pain. She'd lost her mother, her father, one of her brothers and her most precious of all, her beloved husband. Only days ago, did my sister and I come to realize that maybe the largest and best part of Mum went with Dad that day, June 27th 2004.

She openly said her heart was racing, she was extremely stressed and very tired. And most importantly, that she was ready to go. I found this out after her death. Did she know what was about to happen and didn't talk about it with me out of fear that I'd have her hospitalized when all she wanted was to {hopefully} be reunited with her beloved husband? How did she know she was ready to go? Could she feel her body changing and was she giving up? WHY was she giving up when she'd lived for us our whole lives? She had grandchildren and her daughters to care for her. And I keep repeating every day- I guess we just weren't enough anymore.

She had agreed to make some changes in her life. She'd agreed to start on a weight loss program and had told me she wanted to really give quitting smoking a good crack. She wanted to retire ASAP to ease the stress and get some much needed rest. Was she agreeing to this to make us feel like everything was okay? Even though she said she was ready to go? I'll never know and I really wish I could stop thinking about it.

That week, week 11 of my daughter's life, while Mum was being intermittently visited by both my sister and I, we packed our car and drove interstate for a close friend's wedding. Mum warned us not to drive but we did, we made it there fine and was in contact with Mum throughout the journey. I sent her photos of her grandchildren, called her to tell her what funny things they were up to. We woke up on the Sunday, April 28th and packed the car for the long journey home.

Mum called twice and I hadn't picked up the phone because I was angry about being lost in Sydney's outer fringe. I called her back in a huff and explained to her what had happened. She had told me she was diagnosed with asthma after getting herself to the doctor and that she was feeling better and that I shouldn't worry, even though she said she knew I would. I questioned the medications she was given and we rattled on about how much I couldn't wait to get home to her. She said she was going to stay with my sister til Wednesday and that she'd see me then. I never saw her again.

At 8pm I texted Mum to say I was still a couple of hundred km's away from Melbourne. Just before 830pm, I got a reply saying "Chin up, not long to go now and back to paradise". I kept driving, it was dark, windy and cold. We were not dressed for Melbourne's gloomy weather.

About 30 mins from home, my phone rang. My husband answered and gave the phone to me. It was my sister.
"Lauren, where are you?"
"Half an hour from home, why what's up?"
"Are you driving?"
"Yeah but I'm on hands free"
"No I think it'd be safer to pull over"
"Nah it's okay I can put you on speaker, what's up?"
"Lauren, I need you to pull over"

So I did. I didn't bat an eyelid at her request.
"Lauren, I don't know how to say this but Mum is dead"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{longest brain freeze you can imagine but most likely only microseconds}
"Is this a joke? Is this some kind of dumb joke? You're joking me?"
"No Lauren, she collapsed on the couch, I called the paramedics and it looks like it was a heart attack. I needed to let you know and the Coroner will be coming out.".

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. The tears started stinging my eyes. My breath was choking me and the cold air was burning my lungs. Time slowed. I got out of the car on the highway and had to do everything in my power not to walk into oncoming traffic which was hurtling beside us at 110kms/hr. My heart was hurting. My stomach was churning. I just made it to the passenger side and fell to my knees. Mum is dead. This whole two weird weeks was leading to this. Mum is dead. I couldn't stop repeating it. I screamed at the top of my lungs in front of my husband, my 4 year old boy and my newborn daughter. I couldn't breathe.

I made phone calls to a few people, the dreaded phone calls people don't want to hear, just like the one I just received. My Mum, my best friend and soul mate, is dead. WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED.

I told my sister that I couldn't bear to come and see her on the floor in her house. She said she wouldn't have wanted me to. I slept for twenty minutes that night. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and thought I saw Mum peering through the glass door. I dropped my bundle.

After some settling from my husband, I called Lifeline. I don't recommend it to anyone in a crisis situation. The first thing they said to me after hearing what had happened was "Oh so you're an orphan". I listened to the rest of their useless bullshit and hung up, none the more comforted.

I went back and laid in bed realizing yes, I was now an orphan. Just like Mum had been.

A week later, it was my 31st birthday. The day after this was Mum's funeral. I feel the need to discuss her service in an entirely different post. {Stay tuned}

A few days later it was Mother's Day, followed immediately by what would have been Mum's 59th birthday. She didn't live past her mother did in terms of years. It was another turning point in my mind- Lauren, you need to make it past 58 years of age and you need to get healthy {stay tuned for yet another post on this side-track}

These are all the basic facts about what has completely altered my life in what was to be one of the most happy years of our family's lives. The birth of our daughter, my son's year at kindergarten. Having two children at home with me whilst I worked on my new small business and got back into health care in some way.

My life, my soul, my spirit, my mind and my heart have forever been changed. The last 7 months have been the hardest of any road I've travelled.

In 2004, I said goodbye for the final time to my beautiful father as he passed away from a duodenal adenocarcinoma. I never EVER thought that not even a decade later, I'd be standing at the head of my precious Mum's coffin, saying the same goodbye.

Losing Mum is the unbearable, indescribable pain that I never wanted to cross paths with and still clearly don't. She still means everything to me. I counted my immediate family as my husband, my children, my Mum, my sister and her family. She was never an outsider. She was my life. I feel as though as part of my heart and soul went with her when she died. I'll never be able to describe in words how much she meant to me. She was a part of every aspect of my life. She walked me into my prep class on my first day of school, she was there when I started high school, was there for my first date, she was there for my first break up, when I met my husband to be, when we bought our first house together, when I graduated, when I lost my father and my grandparents, she was the first to meet both my children. She walked me down the aisle the day I got married. She cried and laughed with me. She held my hand and comforted me when I was panicking. She gave me good and bad advice. She angered me and made me happy. She gave me love and I loved her more than anyone will ever feel in their life.

How could I ever describe how much she meant to me? Only her and I know. It's something she took to her Heaven with her and it's something I'll hold onto as tight as I can until my time comes.

I haven't been able to describe all of what happened and I haven't even begun to describe what has happened in my life since. It's painful. I have never felt pain like this. I never thought a thought, a random thought, could cause such physical pain. My stomach clenches, my chest tightens, my heart races and I want to be sick. All at once. I try and picture her with me and the pain settles a bit. But it never really goes away.

Time, 7 months of it, hasn't eased the pain of losing her. I feel this loss every second of every day. She is constantly on my mind. It isn't always her death and the fact that I never got to physically see her or say goodbye that I think of. I think of things that she's missing. I think of her voice. I think of her freckles and her blonde hair. I think of her glasses and her clothes. I think of her perfume and the way she used to eat and drink. I think of how much I love her and how much more I love her every day.

Until you feel such a loss, heart break can't be described. My heart is broken. At times, when I am by myself, I feel lost. I feel empty and lifeless. I've never been so lost for the right words but able to speak so much about someone or something at the same time.

I thought a few days ago, that if I don't start writing about how I am feeling, I will break down and not be able to recover. Mum wouldn't want that. But more to the point, I have two young children who need me so a break down is not an option. But God, sometimes I just wish it was. Mourning for someone who you just want to hold and speak to again is horrible. It's sickening.

I know it will get better and that 7 months is such a short time and it really is just the beginning for me on this new journey. I just hope I have the strength to keep going and not give up. I need to think of how seeing her with her grandchildren warmed me and pray that that warmth can help me survive.

Mum- Fly Free my precious Angel. I love you forever and a day. If there is a way you can give me a sign to let me know you are safe and that you can see me, just do it and just know that I will never ever go a minute without thinking about you. The best part of you I keep with me, the best part of me stays with you.

L
xxoo

Daydreaming about Seeing You Again.

Dreamcatcher by Alexandre Desplat

What A Difference 6 Months Makes...

It's Sunday night and we're all well fed, comfortable and us parents are dreaming of a long, peaceful sleep through the night to start off our {shortened} working week [thank you Melbourne Cup Day!]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how my life and everything in it has changed over the last 6 months. I almost feel like I've become a completely different person.

I've noticed I am less tolerant to bullshit and bullshitters. I have more patience with my children. I am a better listener. I take my time in everything I do. I don't focus on things that I don't think personally should matter to me or to my family. My memory has improved. Over the last 2 months, I can concentrate with more precision. I am enjoying sleeping and don't feel like I am a bad mother if I ask my husband to watch the kids while I take a nap.

I am more careful about what I say {my brain-to-mouth filter works over time}. I no longer feel the need to impress or please anyone. What you see now is what you get. No smoke and mirrors, just a woman with  big heart, a sense of humour and a thoughtful, supportive nature. I am focused more than ever on giving my children a fun, happy and healthy life, full of memories and lots of laughs. I laugh more than I ever have. I accept my body and my health and am thankful for recognising the need to improve my health and fitness to the level it once was.

I have subconsciously taken control of my anxiety and panic disorder, one of the best changes I've seen in myself. I can take my mind out of a sticky situation {or what my sister and I call a "moment", or a moment where our parents are on our mind} and re-focus on the present. I have become more of a reader {even though I was pretty nerdy before} and I am really enjoying my spare time.

I have gone back to work into a position that I couldn't enjoy more. My colleagues are professional, yet amazingly supportive and fun to work with. I am enjoying being back at work as it's the most adult time I get for the week and boy, with a Miss 9 Months with Attitude to Boot and Master Shy 5 Guy on my case, do I need it!

The patients I work with are so grateful and appreciative for the care they receive. I'm getting such positive feedback on my communication, my passion and my character, I really believe my parents would be proud.

I think about how much I relied on my Mum throughout my life to help me in making decisions, in giving me advice, in supporting my choices and the best lesson she taught me is to just listen to myself. I have a voice inside that guides me that I can now hear. I don't question it's guidance. My answers to questions and decisions are no longer grey, they are black or white. The voice is loud and clear inside me. I no longer question my thoughts or my decisions. I am trying my best not to live in the past or with regret.

I am still having many upsetting moments which come at the most strange times in my day. Seeing Mum's favourite prawn and soba soup set me off into a flood of tears this afternoon. I have learnt to stay calm and not feel overwhelmed. I have learnt to accept that the ride I am on is a roller coaster and I'm the only passenger. Not everyone knows how this ride feels when they are standing watching me from the sidelines, but they can see it will be a mix of ups and downs for me. I don't expect it to end any time soon. All I expect from myself is to let it play out as it needs to.

I let the tears flow now. I can think to my emotional state in the first two or three months without Mum and I really tried to not show my feelings in front of anyone. I didn't want to cry, most likely because I didn't want to feel pain. I had 18 months to get used to the idea of having to let my Dad go when the time came. As Mum's passing was sudden, my system has been totally shocked into trying to accepting just not having her here. I was angry months ago. I am learning how to live in peace and accept the world and what is thrown at me as it is. 

I've lost my greatest friend and my greatest support but that doesn't mean I'm alone. It just means I need to live with happiness and love in my heart and that it's okay for me to fall apart sometimes. You can't lose those you love the most and not be affected in major ways. They have changed your life forever and their loss changes every part of you. I am no longer a daughter, which is very difficult for me to swallow as it was one I took the most pride in. 

This has been the most challenging 6 months of my life. There isn't much more that life can throw at me that will throw me off my game. Bring it on.

LEJ- Flying Solo