THE NEXT PHASE

When I did a vote if you want to hear about the past or future majority ruled with a future post, I started wondering why and Nick happily told me after my recent post on Instagram you would all be thinking I may be pregnant  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about stages of life and this is the one thing I am most defiantly aware and positive of. Im physically, mentally and emotionally ready to enter the new phase of my life. I’m ready to grow and get better.”

But sorry to disappoint, I’m not. Despite my hankering for a baby growing inside of me, I am extremely old fashioned and believe a ring should be on my finger before hand. So before I delve onto exposing the “new phase” of my life I am so desperately searching for. Let me explain the above so you all don’t think I am some granny who looks upon children out of wedlock in disgust (I am a child out of wedlock!)

I like to believe my parents break up didn’t effect me. I always knew one day I would find a love that made the sunsets warm my soul and my head seem not so crazy, I knew that. But I also knew I was difficult, how hard must it be to wake beside the women you love, tears already streaming down her face before 7am, eyes black from no sleep and a echo in her voice that made the dogs dare not enter the room. Then other days wake with a skip in her step and a aura that made the day seem like the warmest of spring days. I knew that could be a possibility. I knew that the depression I once had and the overly emotional soul I contain deserved a entirinity love. So I vowed when I found the man that made my soul go “oh there you are I have been waiting for you”, I would marry him, one, because I needed to know the he knew what he was in for and two, I don’t want my children to grow up in two houses, I don’t want them to have a step father. Because as much as I like to think my parents break up didn’t effect me, the way I will choose to raise my children and my search for truely love clearly proved me wrong.

So there you have it, I simply want to be loved, to the highest of abilities before I love my children to the best of my ability. Makes sense? Of course it does! Everyone deserves love and everyone deserves to celebrate that love. Before or after children, it’s up to you. But for me I need some self confirmation before.

Ok where was I? Argh the next phase or “new phase”, psychology I know there is something coming for me. Maybe it’s personal growth, perhaps one morning I will wake and and light will beam into our room and I will know that overnight I have somehow grown and today I am a different person.

It’s like I am stuck between two people, who I was and who I want to be. I was wild at uni, and when I say wild I truely mean it. I was carefree and oh so happy but I always knew it wasn’t who I was going to be forever. Now I am not sure who I am but it’s not who I am going to be forever. But I will know, like when you fall in love “you know when you know” but for the time being I am emotionally unsettled and in all honestly I am not bubbling a whole heap of happiness. I am in this rutt of no growth.

It’s internal, completely internal. You see we work on ourselves everyday and I have always had this image of who I want that to be. I have this friend I went to uni with, she was the human version of sunshine. She simply made me feel loved and appreciated, never a down day. You need to smile, even on your saddest day. You need to be humble, no matter the success and you need to listen more and talk less. People have different versions of who they want to be, but this is most defiantly mine. I want there to be a light I feel in my chest that makes the days seem shorter and the affect rub off onto the people I pass.

My father has this way of walking into a room and making the energy lift, he smiles and his loud voice fills the loneliness in strangers bones, his laugh echoes in their chest and his friendly chitchat could make even the shyest of men come out of his shell, turn from a turtle to a butterfly for the remainder of his day.

We take bits and pieces from people on our journey, we absorb the bits we want and disregard the bits we don’t. Those qualities are different for everyone, some people love strong willed and loud people so they take those qualities with them.

Maybe my next phase is recognition I can do that, maybe it’s a sign that I am evolving…

But I do know this, I have been stuck in a rutt, I feel like I am running on empty and there is no goodness left inside of me to pick up speed and get to my next goal, and I am just hoping I can smile soon, smile and truely mean it and my tears of sadness are replaced by nothing but a bubble of joy everyday, thankful for the journey I am on and the people I have around me.

But here is some things I know about the future, considering majority of you wanted to know about it, partly because I think you all want to know when I am gonna get knocked up.

I have more to give career wise, I am not at the top of the ladder yet. The next phase will hopefully take me to the top.

Mental Health wise, I still have so much I want to change. Telling my story was only the start of something, but I am going to leave the rest quiet and let you take it in as it comes.

I am going to marry Nick, marry the shit out of him. But he will ask me that when he knows the time is right, when his heart tells him to, it could be in 10 years or it could be next week. But for now we are just content in our love bubble.

I am gonna have children, I am going to be that mother that could make her own football team with children. I am going to love them more than I have ever loved anything in this world.  I will than hit a new phase and become a different person. These kids will be the life of me, the essence to my being and the beat that keeps my heart beating.

So there you have it, the future, wrapped into one little blog post.

Bird x

 

RELATIONSHIPS WITH FOOD

I know this kind of blog topic seems off course to what I usually write about, but trust me it’s not. Some people have such a relationship with food that it changes their emotional ability to see themselves in a light of beauty.

When I had depression, my diet altered dramatically. I come from a health conscious family, extremely health conscious. But health conscious in a way that meat and vegetables were dinners most nights, but I could still take a sneaky packet of potato chips to school. I guess I was lucky in the respect that I received my father metabolism and would never truely exceed a weight limit that made me overweight and I never actually craved a body that wasn’t mine, I was always happy in the skin I was in.

So the constant chocolate binge obsessions turned to vegetable chips, black tea turned to herbal. But it wasn’t even during this time of hardship I realised everyone has a relationship with food. It’s now I am strengthening one hell of a relationship with food. When I moved to university I had a friend who I lived with. She would tell me about the nights with her family,  they would share around the table wonderful roasted vegetables they had grown in the garden, she would talk of these nights with such love and passion. So of course she would spend her night cooking our uni house a wonderful roast, of all the goodies she brought back with her from the weekend at home. I was always so jealous of that, I was jealous that her meals tasted equivalent to a mum hug and she didn’t need to look at a recipe book to whip up something wonderful. So I took a mental note, that when the time comes my family and I would sit at our table every night, without fail. No tv couch dinners and if I am lucky enough to spend my days in the vegetable patch, all the food on their plate will be home grown. I took the note and never thought of it again.

Then I moved in with Nick and this journey of making a home together begun and that mental note popped back out to remind me of the goodness I will one day create.

So since then I have been building this strong relationship with food, I chew slowly, I let the smells fill the house and I let Nicks reaction tell me what I need to know. We sit at the table and we talk about our day while fuelling our body with what we need. My university bodyweight chub has gone, the dirt from the garden now imbeds itself under my nails and I shop organic. I now know that ‘meat and veg’ is sure sustainable, but its shithouse compared to other things I can create. Nutritionally and ‘deliciously’.

So why am I writing this post you ask? My sister – my beauiful, talented and bountiful sister. 10 years between us, the gap never seeming real evident, although now it’s like there is no gap at all.

My father is really the only emotionally vulnerable member of my family, the others hold a sense of strength and confidence that my father and I didn’t seem to gain. We received an extra bone so to speak, one that caused us to be hurt by the words that spin from peoples mouths and cause an ache in our chest, we cover it with a smile but hold it dear to our heart. This particular sister, held a fire in her chest we all lacked, a passionate burn that made her confidence known when she walked into the room.

So when she told me she hates her relationship with food and she doesn’t like the way she looks at herself in the mirror my heart ached, one for the narrow minded way I had looked at her, like she wasn’t struggling emotionally like I sometimes do, and two I wished she could see the way I looked at her, through my eyes, in utter ore.

She told me of the calorie counting, the guilt after sugar and the look in the mirror. She told me that she is aware of it, for so long she thought it was normal and I guess she is right. So many people think that is normal, that tracking daily intakes is normal and packaged meals “aren’t all that bad”.

I love to hear her talk now when she calls, I love to hear her relationship with food strengthen and her confidence shine a new light we haven’t seen before. With the confidence came an emotional trigger that has softened her persona in a way that makes me think the sun might shine out her bum. I love the smell that fills her home when I walk in and I love the photos of her kids eating dinner around the table. She reads books from influential people, she has kinesiology appointments, podcasts fill her ears and wholesome goodness fills her stomach. So I took another mental note.

When I have children, especially a daughter. I won’t talk about her weight, I won’t talk about body appearance and we will dare not look upon anyone else under judgement. I will tell her she’s beautiful every day, we will cook in the kitchen while Sam Smith plays in the back ground. We will eat at the table with the rest of our family, I will tell her about pesticides and the importance of pink salt over white. We will eat big, rich chocolate cakes for her birthday and we will relish in all the wonderful memories that are made over food, not once will you hear a “you shouldn’t eat that”, no food guilt will pass through our home.

To my sister – there is nothing I value more than our relationship, I hope one day it clicks and you see the way I see you, as the caring, empathetic and emotionally worthy person you are. I hope the guilt leaves the room and never comes back, I hope you wear what you want and the confidence oozes from your body in the most contagious way.

To everyone who struggles with body image and food guilt remember this – that body you are given can withstand the utmost of pain, the least you can do is help it out in all the ways you can. But first, make the mind beautiful, the rest will follow.

Bird x

THE ENRICHMENT

Psychologically there is something missing from my life, there always has been. It took me so long to work it out, I always knew there was something missing. I guess a part of that filled when I met Nick but the one thing every muscle in my body aches for is a family.

I know it sounds weird to talk about at 21, well weird for you maybe but for me I have been busting to have a family for as long as I can remember. Under no merit would I ever abide by that until I had the right man and of course was in a situation that was fitting for a family.

But I want to talk to you about it..

You see I know this girl, she was in year 12 when I started year 7, I remember her smile making a school corridor not so gloomy, her party nature stopping when she met a boy soon after school. She was married at 20 and had her first child at 21, living on a farm on the country side and soaking every little bit of life in with her three beautiful children. You wouldn’t think she is 24 when you look at her, her maturity lingers in the air and her happiness wraps around you when you come across her in the street. Perfection bubbles from her body, via social media and face to face. What a women, what an absolute women. She created a life she wanted and in turn her little family will become strong.

The reasoning to why I am telling you about her is this – she didn’t travel, she didn’t want to. She didn’t live wild and free, she didn’t want to. She lost friends, simply because they were on a different path. She gained friends, ones who were heading in the same direction. She has a tough past, but made it a point not to bring it into the future.

She had that ache, she knew what she wanted and she did it. Disregarded the ones around her who didn’t think she was capable and did it.

You see not everyone wants what you want (hard to imagine I know right?!). So in no right to you have the authority to give you opinion onto how someone choses to live, unless they ask. So take that as a little life tip, listen and don’t give feedback unless you are asked.

I can’t remember much before the age of 15, I don’t know why, maybe it was my brains way of blocking out things I didn’t want to remember, some type of defence mechanism. Maybe I just went to sleep and washed my brain clear, woke up the next morning a new version of Bridie. But I do remember how it felt to be loved by family, I remember sisters poking and prodding me and brothers blaming everything on me. I remember little things, I remember how god damn good it felt. But I remember some bad things to, like craving a sibling of the same age and hopping from dads to mums and vice-versa.

Now maybe it’s my body aching for that feeling of a full home back in my life, maybe that’s why I have want a family. Maybe I want something to call my own, or maybe I just want create decent humans who are told they are loved everyday and can spread that into the world.

I remember having a conversation with my grandad one morning, not long ago. The sun was beaming in the sun room and made the area seem cosy and warm. Grandad told me of a time his friend said “it’s nice when the kids visit, but isn’t it good when they go,” and this was my grandads response.

“What a cruel thing that is to think, I hate when my kids leave, no one should want that, let alone say that.”

I still think about it everyday, those children who feel like it’s a chore to visit their parents, dinner time conversation not delving deeper than the weather. My heart aches for them…

Despite the fact grandad tells me I was born to be a mother, it baffles me that people can not like their own children, it is under my understanding that you create those people so who they are and who they become reflects your parenting. People take what they like and don’t like from people, based upon judgement. Remember that…

But here is what I know, parents complaining about parenthood in front of their children angers me. A hollow pit in my stomach is left behind after my niece/nephew hug me. People who aren’t ready to have children, discouraging others who are simply for the sake of what they missed out on. Women trying everything they can to get back to their pre baby body, while other women would die for those stretch marks and nutrious post baby ‘podge’.

Now now….

Before I finish this blog and all you mothers are reading this with a “Bridie she hasn’t had a child how would she know” let me tell you this – I have 9 siblings and 24 nieces and nephews, I have a niece who is one year older than me. There is 10 years between me and the sibling above me, I spent so long of my life being the only child at home. I have spent my 21 years of life building for my future family, arguing every person who tells me to dream bigger. My body has forced tears, every time I hold a new born. Once I have children and the bags around my eyes are darker than yours and my tummy won’t let me tie my shoes than you can say “I told you so”.

I will wait until the time is right, but don’t for a second think I will listen to this ”too young” nonsense.

Children do not ruin anything, they enrich everything.

STEP BY STEP

 

When I was growing up I never understood how people wanted to stay at home on the weekend and not indulge in fun filled antics with friends and most probably a few too many goon and juices. I understood some people enjoyed their own space, however, I always thought it was sheltering to do so and they were never truely experience ‘life’ to the fullest.

I understand it now and I feel guilty for ever feeling that way and displaying that in my manner, eyes and words. I wish I knew what I do now, people just reach different stages of their life at different times.

Visually, this is how I see it – we are all put infront of a ladder at birth and as life continues we reach for a different step up, we talk, then walk and so forth, with these actions and mental growth we climb another step, years from that moment we reach our final step, at the top of the ladder.

People meet their soul mates at different times, people crave the antics of parties at different stages and people fall into a different pathway, it’s healthy and it’s just part of how the world goes round.

I am at a different stage than I was this time last year and I dare say this time next year I will have gone up another step and the year after another step.

Until eventually all the steps are done and I sit at the top, wrinkly and wise and ready to depart this world knowing I took every step with grace, didn’t look at the step behind me and didn’t await the step in front.

So this is my message to you –

People change, thank god they do! People grow on the inside as much as they do the outside. It doesn’t mean they forget who they were, and the friends and family who got them there. They just grow, as simple as that. Like a sunflower, watered daily and awaiting to display yellow goodness to the world.

This is how I see it – Look at your mum now, imagine if she was still out every weekend, doing shots upside down in some random bar, working in the general store and drove a holden astra. A phone full of emojis and group chats talking about everything from boys to beers.

You can’t picture it right? Because you wouldn’t be here if that was the case. You wouldn’t even be a thought at that stage, if she didn’t meet your dad, take that job and settle the wild in her soul than who knows.

My mum still catches up with friends, they drink over dinner, maybe not 15 beers but two glasses of wine (that’s enough, trust me). Her friends are on the same stage of life as her – kids have moved out, grandchildren fill their hearts with laughter and they bathe in the moment and the beauty of all they have been given, they relish in the past but bathe in the present.

I have friends who are steps above me and friends who are are still in the midst of adolescence and they intend to be on that step for as long as they can and that is completely perfect. Because one day a soul mate will walk in and the idea of a life together seems more appealing then that of a jelly shot, or maybe a job will pop up and weekend all nighters can not continue as that report is due on Monday. Or Maybe they just damn well wanted different!

Do I stop being friends with people on a different step? Obviously not, but here is what I will do and here is what I wish I did before. I will hear about their life at the moment and I will enjoy their step with them over a coffee and as soon as my ute door shuts and I return home I will go back to my step and let excitement fill my body with the possibility that this life has something installed for me, maybe I could go down a step and maybe I could go up a step come morning. Right now I will relish in my  wonderful, exciting and loved up step.

You dance on that step you are on, you moonwalk in the rain, you kiss that soul mate, you hand in that report and you damn well enjoy that step, because who knows when you have to take the next step up, it could be tomorrow or next week.

You choose wether you go up or down and you focus on your step, don’t dare let anyone else get in the way.

PAINT ME HAPPINESS

You colour me with a ball point pen, colour my skin and touch my soul.

Colour me in and say you love me over again, over and over again.

You colour me, my soul and paint me yellow in places once filled with grey.

Make me dream of things I never did once before, dream outside of this speed trap town.

The doctor said I wouldn’t make it a year, but the holidays are over and I am still here.

Ball point pen over itching scars, yellow where was once grey.

You know he will come around here and paint me with the ball point pen.

Years of waiting for yellow, waiting for the pain to disappear.

I would be lying if I said this life didn’t take from you.

At nights I spend painting my soul grey for in the morning I am I await yellow.

 

Love Bird x

 

 

 

 

 

DEAR MR BULLY

Today I found a letter I wrote to a bully when I was 16, rummaging through moving boxes for a pair of headphones lay the wrinkled envelope, old tears causing the paper to be tough and coffee coloured. An old biro engraved lined paper with a shaky hand, the licked side no longer clung to its paper partner and begged for me to open it’s painful past. Part of me wishes I didn’t get its reminder, but part of me felt like it rang the doorbell, an unexpected visitor but a welcomed guest.

Before you read below I need you to know this – I want it to stop, bullying is cruel and nasty. Read my words, remember them next time words leave your mouth, remember them constantly. You see I told people eventually, but far too late. I wish I told someone sooner. I wish I faced them, head on. I never think about them like I thought I would, back then I thought maybe the pain was too much and that it would cling to my heart like a leach forever, scarring any possible chance I had at happiness. But I was wrong, I don’t think of them, ever. If you are going through something similar, tell someone! Please oh please just tell someone. It gets better, maybe I found this letter today to help one of you by sharing it. I hope it does…

Dear Mr Bully, 

No one knows yet, I pop the notes you write in my pocket. 

I haven’t told my friends you follow me to class, that the bruises that cover my body are not from rocks out of the school garden. 

I keep my phone close to my chest and a four number password seals your nasty secrets. 

I won’t tell them, I will continue to lug this secret around like a heavy bag draped over my sad shoulders, maybe then you will stop. 

But you need to know this, in your battle to bring me down for the ego of oneself you have made my mum cry, you’ve twisted the thoughts of my father, the goodness that use to run through my veins is now black, a black sludge that rumbles in my stomach and spills its contents on the grass after dinner. 

If you ever come across this letter, if you have heard the whispers around the school ground that I took my own life in the dead of the night, you contributed to that. 

You see while you sent me nasty letters and cut my hair, I was battling something of my own. That just because you are hurting enough on the inside to take it out on me, I am doing the same, although taking it out on myself. Double the pain, double the suffering. 

So when you go home at night to your family and that guilt of the pain you bestowed to me frees your soul for the evening. It clings to my insides and drags me deeper down, till the tears stain my pillowcase and darkness lay heavy upon my tired body, leaking its essence into my being, I lay here in my room wondering if tomorrow I will wake up, wondering what your reaction would be if I don’t, but I will not give you that satisfaction. 

I wish your words hurt like a toy gun, a bang bang of scare and than nothing left. But they don’t, they hit full force. They linger in the air, they arrive in my dreams at night and they echo in my head. 

One day I will be ok, and you will be nothing but a mere memory. The scars on my skin a constant reminder of you, my shudder at peoples words another scar left behind. I hope one day the pain of you is gone and my life resembles somewhat of a metaphor for success and yours metaphor for karma. 

I do not wish to hurt you, but I hope a piece of me is carried with you everyday and you remember the girl you took from her family and friends and that the next time that wave of pain seeps into your mind and the big bad bully hisses to come out, you think of me and the bully returns to it’s unwanted place of residence, that is not made up in your heart.

Dear Mr Bully, one day it will be ok for me, but that day is not today. 

Yours captive now but not forever, 

Bridie… 

 

THE HANKERING

 

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I can’t wait to have kids, as long as I can remember all I’ve wanted was to be a wife and mum.

There’s something about the idea of giving life, about a being relying so much on your breath to continue each day.

I want a big family, were laughter lifts the roof at dinner time and the countryside doesn’t seem so big with their presence.

The late nights just me and my baby rocking back and forth on a chair, a ‘shhh’ coming from my lips and tiny hand placing itself on my cheek. The little dimpely hand that will entwine in mine, the “muuuuuuuum’ that echoes from the hallway and the little feet that clamber into our room at 2am to cuddle in beside my warm sleepy body.

I want their binding love to make a house, our home.

I’ll tell them stories and listen to theirs, imagination feeling their head with beautiful wonder.

I want them to run, barefoot around the yard, water cooling the summer sun from their skin, I want the light to radiate through their smile.

We’ll build tree houses and swings, we’ll chase chickens and hold puppies, we’ll ride horses and milk cows, we’ll be so complete.

Apples will rippen in the orchid, the smell of home cooked bread will linger with the scent of another candle in the living room, floor covered with toys.

I can’t wait for my heart to be so full, I can’t wait for one little smile to fix a bad day.

But until then, I will continue to write about the stories I will one day whisper into little ears when sleep is still so far away and the rain falls on this farmhouse roof.

 

Bird x

THE EMOTIONAL THRESHOLD

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about my emotional sense and how I share what I feel too often, and that maybe, just perhaps if someone reads this they will understand just why I like to confess every little thing that twirls in my mind.

I remember when I was in the pit of depression, the only light I saw was from the words of my pal –  “the best is yet to come.” I remember running those words through my head as the bubble of pain arose in class or washed like a tide of heavy sheets at night. I remember his love. You see we had been best friends for as long as I could remember but when he knew of my battles this side of him opened up, a side I had never seen before. The constant pats on the back, the constant care and affection that flowed from his body whenever I was around, kept me going when things got bad. I decided to do the same, on a permanent basis, I yelled when I was mad, I cried when I was sad and I smiled when I was happy but I always told people how I felt.

People deserve love, not on a part time basis. My father has always been a giver, a sharer (a little too much at times) and I guess when I was born that part of him I inherited and I became the crave for honestly, as raw as the day day I was born and the power to give it was evident, well I made it evident.

So I told my mum I loved her more, I told my sisters their friendship sits deep within my chest and continues to make my heart beat beautiful blood through my veins, I told my friends they looked nice today, I hugged when I hadn’t seen someone in a while and I shared every little part of my emotional sense with the people around me, for they deserved to feel better than I was at the time.

You see the poisonous pain that oozed my veins seemed diluted when I could share that with someone, it seemed so physical. Getting wrapped in my fathers arms at night felt like a majestic painting of energies colliding and creating an orb of understanding.

I told my mum to tell me she loves me before she hangs up the phone, every time. I told her that my head needs to hear it so it can tell my heart to keep beating.

I told my sisters to answer the phone at all hours of the night, I told them the sound of their voice made my ears tell my feet to keep moving.

I told my dad a kiss on the head at night was vital, that it told my body I will wake in the morning.

I told my friends treat me like a ball of cotton-wool, just until I can shed the wool myself- like a Dorper heading into the summer months, wool wound around fence wire disgust lingering in lanolin.

If I left the world, I wanted people to know exactly how I felt about them. I wanted to be remembered as the one who made their presence lighter, who oozed love and bleached it on the skin of the ones I held so dear. Like the last dreg of pub squash I would suck at their pain and leave them ready for another, fresh serving.

The thing that baffles me is I was in control of that, whether I die or live. I chose to live and share that love I chose to live. As affection and feel good emotions that flowed from me every so often were from people who were willing to show it.

I don’t want to wake up one day and find a loved one gone and regret the love I didn’t give.

Yesterday on the way home from work a motorbike accident happened, as I ran towards the accident, phone in hand dialing 000, my heart ached for the ones he loved so dearly, but had no idea just how he felt or maybe he was a sharer and told them daily, maybe his phone was filled with “I love you xx”.

Fortunately everyone was okay and the fear of death stunted a reaction of emotional in his body to tell his family he loves them, it stunned my body to do the same – hence why I write this.

Don’t be that person, share love, share so much love, make love as essential as breathing. I am a living, breathing reason why it is so important to ones head. For that breath in my body is from affection and love, now my life is so full of it it makes my heart swell and cheeks flame red.

Make your feelings evident, even if they don’t want to be heard, you will regret it if you don’t.

I had a friend in school, every time she would invite me over to her home I would jump at the opportunity for I got to watch her parents hold hands, her sister stare at her with admiration and laughter lift the roof at dinner.

I will create that, I hope my children’s friends jump at the opportunity to visit our home, warmth flooded from the front door upon their feet as they turn the handle, Nick’s kiss on the top of my head after a hard day and they leave with a belly full of yummy goods and a sense of ” the best is yet to come” and they return to their homes to kiss their mother on the cheek and “how was your day?” to their father.

Poor Nick has to lie in bed at night and listen to how much I love him, dad has to listen to “I love you promise to be careful and I will promise to be good”, mum has 15 phone calls a day and my siblings have a “coffee?” message waiting whenever I can. While sometimes the love isn’t in my words or theirs, perhaps it’s in the hug, or maybe the arm around the shoulder.

In no way and I saying tell everyone the last time you had a bowl movement, I am just telling you to tell them you love them. That maybe that tiny flicker of love you feel is a sign that you should confess, you never know how badly someone needs to hear something. Your friend’s hair looks nice? Tell them. A stranger has a nice shirt? Tell them.

Tell your brother your listening to his dreams, tell your sister she is all you need, tell your mother she is the only one and your father has made you all you have become.

There is still so much love I want to give, there is still so much I am working on, in my head and in my body. But for the moment my words are all I can give, and I will continue to give them as just as much as it helps the ones I tell I love, their smile when hearing it fixes my insides.

To dear Brad – “The best is yet to come” and hangs from my neck on the days I need reminding, today it sit’s with pride as those words are the most truthful yet.

To you all – You are enough, your doing great and you have got this. nick.jpg

Love Bird x

The richest of them all

Today one of my friends from primary school got engaged, watching the happiness bubble from her being got me thinking about what it is to truely be rich in life, to feel like you have got your ‘I made it moment’.

You see before Nick, I fumbled around in search of the one thing that was missing from my heart, I didn’t know what that thing was that was, for a while I thought it was a career, at times I thought maybe it was routine. All I really knew was contentment wouldn’t settle upon my chest until I found it.

No job, no town seemed to fill that missing hole, until I met Nick. Like a knight in shining armour, walking through the door with a big smile. Every part of me rushed to fill that hole in one quick ‘arghhhh that’s what’s missing’. To tell you the truth, even on the days Nick isn’t around I can feel that whole beat with fullness, a reminder that his waiting for me, the exact same part of him beating louder and louder as the minutes tick on.

For a while there, I didn’t think that wild in my life would settle.. I thought maybe gaining love from friendships and climbing into bed alone at night was okay, I wasn’t looking for anyone.

I guess thats when it happens, not when you want but when the time is right, have faith in the way things will turn out.

So who really is the richest of them all? The man who drives home at night in his Mustang, leather seats with a cigar straining his lungs, given up the spare of his time to dedicate to making money.

Perhaps, its the man who returns from work to the home of his life, love bursting through the door as it opens, spilling its goodness upon the once bad day turned good.

For me it’s the man who returns home in a Land Cruiser to an excited Dachound and most nights a girl running from the front door to meet his open arms.

Nick Sheather you are the richest of them all, for I promise that sheepskin of a cruiser feels better than that of a leather mustang and your arms feel safer than that of money.

To my dearest friend Ashley, when we were 8, dressing in bed sheets and picking flowers from mums garden to walk down our makeshift isle, we knew it would happen one day. Today was your day, you found the missing piece and you more than anyone deserves that piece to stay. To Josh,  the richest man of them all, that love is all you need.

To love, laughter and happily ever after.

2018 and me

Okay, well as 2018 looms in less then 8 hours I can’t help but feel excited for the year thats ahead and unlike a fresh 18 year old’s Instagram post 2018 will not mean ‘a new year and a new me.”

2017 gave me a new home, new job(s), the love of my life and of course the best little dog in the world. Although, on an emotional basis it has given me relief, stability and for the first time in a long time a happiness that oozes from my body.

Before I go on to tell you about what my plans are for 2018 I feel like you need to know this – New Years resolutions aren’t the be all and end all, don’t set an expectation for a year, expectation killed the cat and it will kill your hope. Just ride the year out, acknowledge the way you are feeling and brace yourself for what lies ahead, whatever it may be.

2018 and me (and you) –

Be resilient – the worlds people say will not affect my sparkle anymore, nor should it dim yours. Take it to the chin, laugh and nod.

Do you – don’t waste time on people who aren’t willing to give it to you, don’t follow in friendships that drain the energy from your body. Do you, for you!  I mean this in the most unselfish, least arrogant way. You don’t want to go to the party? Don’t. You don’t want to take that new job? Don’t. You don’t feel like working late at night? Don’t. Focus on you, feed that body beautiful goods but most of all feed that mind beautiful thoughts.

Don’t expect happiness – We didn’t not evolve to be continually happy, what a strange and beautiful world it would be if that was a case. Remember that, remember it after a long day and your bones ache with tired movement and you just want to sleep, remember that when the tears seep from your eyes and make the heart bubble with pain. Remember this is life, learn the best ways to deal with it, but don’t expect constant happiness.

The apple falls far from the tree (I know I promised a blog post on this one, I am working on it!) – You see I am either being told I look like mum and dad, that the words that dribble from m mouth are sometimes too closely similar to that of my parents. While it has never bothered me and it shouldn’t bother you, it has dawned on me lately that I will be me and I can take the good bits from my parents, although I will not become clones of their being. Nick and I have been talking a lot lately about the way we grew up, all the good stuff! But it got me thinking, traditions start when you want them to, you can create the people you want to see in this world. So when my time comes and we are creating a family and they little personalities are absorbing everything I will remember this – Take the good and leave the bad.

Last but not least! This is the one I am going to be taking with me, I am gonna grip it with both hands and live by it.

 

2018 is a new year – remember everything that happened in the past happen

 

ed, you can’t change it but you can learn from it. Take 2018 as your ‘get out of 2017 jail free card’, anyone who holds you to it is cruel and if you let it play on your mind, your just as guilty of cruel behaviour.

There ya have it! What me and you can do in the New Year.

2017, thank you for being so kind to me, thank you for the lessons and the laughs. While it’s time to say goodbye you should know this, in the years to come I will be telling my children of 2017, the year I was a rural journalist, communications officer, project officer, the year I told the world about my battles, the year I met their father and the year Peggy fumbled into my home. The year their mum learnt that the beat in her chest was for so many reasons than to survive.25550287_342837876191039_7483234301488946965_n