Lightening Online

Image via WikipediaI love that my birthday falls in the middle of the year. Often the beginning of January is a time for reflection and consideration of the year that has past and a focus on the year that is to come. I like to do the same on my birthday (which is today).

The past 12 months has been an absolutely amazing year for me. It’s been a year of really examining my past and understanding how that has affected my growth up until this point in my life. It’s been a year of learning more of who I am and that I don’t have to be a product of my past. That I can take the struggles and the pain and learn and grow from them. But I don’t have to stay in a state of struggle and pain. I have a choice. I have control.

It’s been a year of learning what makes me smile. A year of finding ways to care for myself. A year of learning that I am WORTH taking care of.

Last year I recognised that for the first time in my life, I could honestly say that I am GLAD I was born.

This year I’m celebrating the fact that I’ve lived another year of life. And I can honestly say that Life is Good. It’s not perfect. It has plenty of struggles. But those struggles have a purpose. They bring growth and wisdom. They bring with them great learning opportunities. They bring depth to life and a great appreciation for the good times.

I love that I can look out the window and see the sun peaking through the clouds. I can see a garden in a mixed state of production. The pumpkins are dying back while the cabbage and broccoli are embracing the cold and booming away. Seasons in life bring change. While some of us are in a season of dying back, others are in a season of growth. Without the seasons, we wouldn’t have the great variety that life has to offer. We wouldn’t have changing conditions that embrace various personalities, needs and stages of growth.

I feel like I can look back on the 34 years I’ve lived on this earth with a sense of satisfaction. I have survived much and achieved much.

A couple of weeks ago, my counsellor read out to me my life story from ages 5 to 18. I have always considered myself to be “weak”. To hear read out the things I went through and the way I not only managed to survive but somehow thrive really surprised me and gave me a new perspective. I realised that I am stronger than I ever thought.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have need for support. We all have need for support. To have the love and encouragement of family and friends.

What it does mean though is that I don’t have to be a “product of my environment”. Not only do I have choices but I have the strength to MAKE those choices.

I feel like I have made a transition from a mere grub crawling on the ground, to spending the past couple of years in a caccooned state (hiding and somewhat in need of protection from the world) to finally entering a butterfly state. Finally free to fly and be myself.

Last year my online friends gave me a very precious gift. What I really wanted for my birthday was for my blog counter to click over 1000 visitors. They worked hard to make that happen for me and it meant a lot. These days my counter clicks over 1000 visitors once or twice a week. But I don’t take any of those visitors for granted and each one means a great deal to me.

I wondered what I could “ask” my online friends for this year (insert cheeky grin) and came up empty. Because you give me gifts every day. When you read what I’ve written, comment on what I’ve written, email me or interact with me through groups and forums you give me the most precious gift anyone could ask for - friendship. For that I send you my heartfelt gratitude. You have helped me to feel like I am a worthwhile person. And everyone deserves to feel like they are worthwhile. Yes, I AM talking to you who just had the thought “she doesn’t really mean me”. If you’ve taken the time to read these very words, I want you to know that you mean something to ME. I may never have met you or even heard from you, but you have given me the time to read what I have to say. And I’m saying right now. You. Are. Worthwhile.

Celebrations today will be fairly quiet. The kids gave a very groggy mother some gifts this morning. I was pretty weary after yesterday’s efforts (taking a day out to do something I LOVE was my gift to ME).

I ended up with the best of both worlds in my cash vs gift dilemma. Farmboy bought me a new office chair and gave me $50 to spend. Combined with some money from other family members, I’ll have $140 to spend on myself.

Tonight we’re going out for a meal with friends. Just one other family so nothing too overwhelming. It should be a nice evening.

Once upon a time I hated birthdays. Once upon a time my birthday brought tears. Now I LOVE birthdays. I can handle getting older because it means I get to celebrate being ME once again. And it’s a celebration that I’ll NEVER take for granted.

I’m feeling like I’ve been living in a bubble for the past couple of months and the bubble has just burst. I’ve been caught up in the adrenaline of playing a game I never wanted to stop playing and the hype of those around me giving me heaps of encouragement.

This past week has seen me come face to face with a few home truths that were perhaps “hiding” amongst the gloss and glitter of being “the newbie”.

Last Thursday’s training was an absolute shocker. The fitness session nearly killed me (okay, I’m being dramatic, but you get what I mean, yeah?) and when it came to some of the skills stuff, I couldn’t seem to hold onto the ball. “Butter-fingers”, my childhood coach would have called it.

As soon as I got into our car after training, I burst into tears. In fact, I kept bursting into tears for the rest of that night and getting to sleep wasn’t all that easy because as soon as I shut my eyes, I kept replaying all the things that had gone wrong.

Admittedly I was fighting a cold and so feeling a bit run-down. Which probably explains at least some of my struggle with training and also why I was bursting into tears so easily (I’m a shocker for bursting into tears at the drop of a hat when I’m tired).

So, after all of that AND feeling like a complete alien come Saturday as it was my first game not played at our home grounds, I wasn’t approaching Saturday’s game with a whole lot of confidence in myself.

To the extent that I thought I was going to actually have a panic attack right before the game. My mind went blank and I couldn’t remember how to play. It was not a very nice feeling at all.

Hoping that once the game got started my head would clear and I’d find some kind of rhythm, I did my best to focus on the game.

Only things went from bad to WORSE. Either the Wing Attack I was playing was a pretty good WA or I really had totally lost the plot. I found her almost impossible to keep up with. The opposing team walked all over us for the first quarter. I don’t know what the score was at the end of the first quarter but I know it wasn’t good.

There was a moment of fear during our break that the coach wasn’t going to swap my position and I would have to face another quarter against this girl. I was SO relieved when she swapped me with another girl and I came off the court. My team mate was very keen to oppose this girl. She was ready to get stuck into her.

The second quarter things went a lot better and our team managed to turn the score around and give us a comfortable lead. I found some comfort in watching my more experienced team mate still struggle to stay on top of this WA. Of course, she did a much better job than I did. But I would expect that to be the case.

At this point though, I really did NOT want to go back on the court. I knew I was only playing half a game this week but we have plenty of players so my not playing another quarter wouldn’t have posed a huge problem to the team. My biggest dilemma was that I knew if I tried to tell my coach not to put me back on, I would burst into tears.

When I discovered she was putting me back on in the final quarter, I really wanted to freak out. That meant that my team-mates would have no time whatsoever to make up any short-fall in the score. I don’t DO pressure very well.

It did turn out to be a good thing in the end. During the third quarter I gave myself a stern talking to. Something along the lines of “you can’t just decide you’re not going to play because your opponent is too hard to play against”. It doesn’t work that way. I figured I’d go back on the court, play to the best of my ability, and know that at the very least, playing a challenging opponent should be a good learning experience.

I think I did a lot better in that final quarter than I did in the first quarter. It helped that I’d had a break where my opponent had played all game and was getting tired. But it also helped that I was focusing on what I could do rather than what I couldn’t do. Well, kind of anyway.

I’m not sure what I was expecting really. That since it was my third game, I was no longer a “beginner” and therefore should just be able to play as well as the rest of the team?

Who knows?

We did end up winning. Thankfully. I’m not sure my ego was up to taking a loss. I’ll have to work on that.

After the game one of my team-mates was very encouraging. And I nearly burst into tears. She was very kind and told me that she felt I was still improving (whereas I was feeling like I’d gone backwards) and that she admired what I was doing for even giving it a go.

I think it was at that point that it really hit me how hard what I’ve undertaken is. People have been saying that from the start - how amazing what I’m doing is. I’ve tended to shrug is off as nothing because all I find amazing is that my team even let me play.

Now that the “gloss” and “newness” and “excitement” have started to wear off, I’m seeing what others are seeing.

Learning a skill like this and putting myself out there in public each week is going to take guts and determination.

I still love it and am amazed it’s even happening.

But not every week is going to be “fairy tale” week.

Sometimes I’m just going to have to keep on keeping on, no matter how hard it seems.

Yeah, we spell “colour” with a “u” here in Australia. I’ve had this post rattling around in the back of my mind for a number of months now. I thought it would one day just spit itself out of my brain. But perhaps the time has come where I just sit and write and see what happens. Otherwise I’ll be 97 and it’ll still be spinning around in the back of my brain making my brain cells all dizzy and the like.

It would seem that a rumor is making it’s way around the blogworld that “Lightening Likes Pink”. Funny that. A rumor that is actually TRUE!!!! In face, one of my blog-friends has taken to calling me “The Pink One”. Which I kinda like - a lot.

I’ve always liked the colour pink. I haven’t always had a lot of pink stuff but I’ve always liked the colour.

BUT, my passion for the colour pink has a LOT more meaning than it simply being a colour I like.

Many of you know that I have been working with a counsellor to try and deal with stuff from my past that I shoved deep down inside of me and tried to pretend didn’t exist. One of the tools she has been using to assist me with this process is using my non dominant hand to write with.

For some reason, writing and drawing with your non dominant hand can help to trigger thoughts and memories from your childhood. Lucia Capacchione has written a fabulous book called “Recovery of Your Inner Child”. It details this process and how you can use it as a tool for understanding yourself and moving toward healing and liberating your “inner self”.

I have been quite staggered with the stuff that has come up as a result. Thoughts and feelings dwelling inside of me that I had no conscious recollection of.

One of these relates to the colour pink. My inner child talks about herself as being “pink”. From what I can gather it is a replacement word for “girl”.

Some of the phrases that have come out as part of this process include:

“I am pink”

“I like pink. I like LOTS of pink”

“My mum doesn’t like pink”

“She doesn’t like pink. I wish she likes pink. Like me. I’m pink”

“They want him to be the big one (referring to my younger brother). Not a girl. Girls are little. He is better cos he is a boy”

For reasons not fully clear to me, the tiny vulnerable child inside of me has the idea that my parents didn’t like me because I am a girl. That somehow being female makes me unacceptable and somehow inferior.

All of this to explain that my love of the colour pink is synonymous with my learning to love myself. To embrace the fact that I am pink.

When I first began my blogger blog, I experimented a lot with various templates and colours. I wanted a pink blog but it was hard to find something I was happy with. Eventually I found the header with the soft pink tulips and that worked well for me. It was symbolic of the gently emerging young girl who was embracing her femininity in a subtle yet positive manner.

When Snoskred began to build this blog for me, I doubt she was aware of the symbolism she created as she did so. I gave her a spectrum of pink colours to work with and she chose to experiment with the bolder colours. As soon as I saw them, I knew the timing was perfect. The “inner me” was slowly growing in confidence and ready to splash out in a bolder, more courageous way. The deeper, bolder pink was symbolic of the inner-strength growing within me. Ready to say to the world “here I am and I’m PINK and PROUD of it”. No longer a timid, soft pink but something bolder and louder.

Originally she shifted my soft pink tulip header over to this blog. It didn’t fit. I kept looking at it and not really feeling like things looked quite right. It was like I was ready for something new. The old “me” didn’t really fit in the new skin. So she sent me in search of a new header graphic. Eventually a google search led me to Balko photo where I found the header image I’m currently using.

You’ll notice though that we have still kept a part of the “old me”. As we learn and grow, who we “used” to be is still a part of ourselves. The good, the bad AND the ugly all form a part of WHO we are. I love that my blog still has a small part of the old header image in the “about” section of this page. It reminds me of where I have come from and the journey I am on.

What I want you to understand when you visit the “pink one” is that I haven’t always embraced my “pinkness”. I have spent a large portion of my life to date wanting to be invisible. Desperately wishing that I could disappear or somehow reinvent myself as a male. Not because I wanted to BE male. But because I thought I would be more loved and accepted if I WAS male.

Now I am learning to embrace my own femininity and proclaim to the world “I. AM. PINK” without feeling any shame or regret about that fact.

The phrase “Lightening Loves Pink” could really be reworded to say “Lightening Loves That SHE is Pink”. Or at least, she’s slowly learning to.

Image via WikipediaI have just finished a most exciting and AWESOME coaching session. I can’t believe how perfect the timing has been on this for me. It’s like the people I’ve needed to help me through my journey have appeared in my life at EXACTLY the right time.

I guess I’ve always thought of coaching as being someone who will PUSH you. But this process is so much more gentle than I expected. It’s more like a gentle pulling of the stuff that’s already inside - you just haven’t really brought it into focus enough to recognise it.

In the past week I’ve been looking at values and vision.

You know, I’ve lost count of the number of times Farmboy has asked me things like “what do you want out of life” and “what would you like to do that would make you happy”. And I shrug. Cos I dunno.

But now I’m getting the feeling that I DO know. I just didn’t know it yet.

This week I get to PLAY!!!!

I’m making myself a VISION board. I’ve always wanted to make one of those but never quite found the “roundtoit” required.

Ooh, cutting and sticking and pasting. What FUN!!!!

And I get to do some virtual clothes shopping as well. Yippeee!!!!!

Life Coaching Homework is much BETTER than any other kind of homework I’ve ever had to do. Well, so far anyway. Definitely an improvement on MATHS homework, that’s for sure.

Alrighty, I’m off to see if I can find myself some PINK cardboard for my vision board.

Thank you so much for all your well-wishes and encouragement on me taking the plunge on the netball court yesterday.

It turned out to be quite a day of “firsts” for our family.

Singstar Princess’s FIRST Netball “Game”

Yes, it was a scratch match. But it was played and umpired as a “real” match. At first she was a little unsure but by the time Saturday morning rolled around, she was ready to give it a go. There is SO much to learn when it comes to playing netball and she didn’t really well.

Trailer Boy’s “First” Football “Game”

At half time of the A-grade match, we often have a “mini-mini’s” game which is basically a chance for all the “little” kids to run around chasing after the football and try to kick through some smaller goal posts. It’s so cute to watch. Trailer Boy (who is 4) decided he’d like to give it a go on Saturday. I didn’t actually get to see him but FarmBoy was there and said he had a grin from ear to ear.

Our FIRST Time Staying At the Club For Tea

We’ve always planned that one day we’d stay for tea at the club after sport. Last year we never did get around to it. So last night we decided to stay. For $25 we both had Rump Steak, Chips and Salad and the kids each had nuggets & chips. Talk about a BARGAIN!!! The steak was soooo good too!

Farmboys FIRST Speech

I had no idea that the club had a sort of presentation type thing at the end of a home game. Just a few minutes of speeches sharing results and other bits and pieces of news. Farmboy is Assistant Coach for our Juniors and gave the speech in place of the coach (who wasn’t there). It’s only about a minute or so but he did SUCH a good job (particularly given it was off the cuff AND he was the first of the football coaches to speak so he had no idea what was normally said).

Lightening’s First Netball Game (well, in a LONG time - and a first with this club)

While I had my moments, I didn’t end up getting quite as nervous as I was expecting. I DID get nervous but I suspect I will always get nervous before a game. My MAJOR moments were:

• Not being able to stay hiding in the change rooms once I put my uniform on. You don’t feel like you’re wearing very much in those dresses.
• Facing up to the team when I wasn’t sure how they would react to me playing.
• Just before the game started when I realised it was all really happening and I was there, uniform and all.
• Putting on my “patches” just before I went on (and all the hub-ub going on around me).
• Walking on to the court and standing next to the GIANT I was opposing (I’m sure she was TWICE my height!!!!)

The support and encouragement I was given by my team-mates and others in the club was UNBELIEVABLE. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. I’m not even sure I’m ready to put it into words yet. It was all a rather emotional experience.

And how did I go? Okay. I could probably tell you almost every single mistake I made. Actually, I could probably tell you about half the mistakes I made. LOL. The others are in areas I’ve yet to learn.

But I feel like I did okay. Which is HUGELY significant because I am very hard on myself. And while I know there’s lots more for me to learn. I feel like I’ve made a good start.

And it was AWESOME!!!!!

Really, really AWESOME!

And the score?

I forgot to look.

I was watching it from the sidelines when I was off-court.

I was watching it from on the court.

And at the end of the game, I forgot to check.

ROFLOL.

But I did find out after the game that we lost by 1 point.

That’s okay. We’ll beat them next time.

My FIRST Netball Award

The end of the game is a bit of a blur for me. My team-mates were very encouraging about how I’d gone for my first time. There was some encouragement from people who had come to watch. And of course, the coach.

As the team congregated with the coach she said something along the lines of me doing well and she was awarding me the something or other. LOL. Like I said, there was a LOT going on.

I think each game the coach gives like an incentive or encouragement award to one of the players. At the presentations, there was one player from each team which was given something.

Who knew you could get presents by playing netball???? I didn’t!!!!

So I was given a towel with the name of the club embroidered on it.

Funnily enough, I saw one of these towels a couple of weeks ago. The Netball President was showing one to someone else and I just happened to be there. And I thought they looked fantastic.

I’m figuring maybe they’re used for awards and stuff because in her speech, the president made some comment about how some people had been playing for the club for years, really wanting one. And here I was at my first game, getting one.

Interesting symbolism I thought. I can’t help but look at that towel and think “wow, I belong. I really belong”.

I had to fight back tears a couple of times during the day. But they were the good kind. The “oh my goodness, people are being so NICE to me” tears.

I wonder how I’ll go next week when I’m “last week’s news”.

As I guess you can tell from this post, it was a really GOOD day.  Today I’m very tired.  Which is to be expected.  But it’s a really “happy, satisfied” kind of tired.  I kinda like it.

This is one of those times when you take a leap into something that terrifies you.  But in the end you’re REALLY glad you did. 

I’ve been thinking about the concept of coaching lately. As children our parents are often our coach. Teaching us, encouraging us to learn and do better. We go to school and our teachers coach us. Teaching us, encouraging us to learn and do better. If we learn an instrument, take dancing lessons and/or play sport, we have teachers/coaches that do the same thing.

What happens when we reach adulthood? Perhaps we do some tertiary study for a while and that extends us. We might have a job which offers a certain amount of training. If we’re lucky, perhaps we have a boss that encourages us to “better ourselves” (although good bosses can be few and far between). If we continue with sport, we might have a coach that teaches us and encourages us to do better.

But for the most part, as adults, we have a lot less training and encouragement than we may have had as children.

I guess this is a topic that has been on my mind a little in recent times. My personal trainer is basically a fitness coach. Each week she teaches me new exercises and ways that I can extend the ability of my body. Her encouragement inspires me to go that bit further than I would on my own.

My netball coach has been doing the same. Teaching me new skills. Giving encouragement and inspiring me to do better.

And I like it.

I feel that there is something within us as humans that really WANTS to do better. WANTS more.

But on our own, do we really strive the same as we might if we had a coach? Someone to talk things through with, flesh things out. Someone who might have the right questions to steer us in the direction we really want to go? Someone to encourage us and keep us accountable.

Now I’d never really heard of lifestyle coaching until recently when an article on Australian Women Online caught my eye. I’m not sure now what part of the idea appealed to me.

Weight Loss Coaching?

I could do with some of that.

Perhaps it was the first line that stood out to me:

ShapeShifters supports and guides you to achieve your ideal weight, health and lifestyle goals.

Perhaps it was the word “FREE” in the title (cos who doesn’t like to get something for FREE???)

Or this paragraph:

With their help you will create life balance, define your vision, set challenging and desirable goals and design an action plan for success. You will formulate strategies to overcome obstacles and have all the support you need to maintain your focus for the long term.

Perhaps something inside of me felt that this could be a good next step in my journey of self discovery. Of finding out who I am and who I want to be?

Whatever the reason, I shot off an email to danielle@healthyandhappy.com.au . The first question I asked proves I didn’t quite read all of the article correctly. Because I asked if she could accomodate people that live in the middle of nowhere like I do. Which she kindly responded “yes” to rather than saying “didn’t you read this line of the article?”

ShapeShifters coach worldwide.

Doh! (I only just realised that when I reread the article to write this post).

We set up a time for the first appointment and Danielle sent me some material to read through. I got cold feet (for a couple of reasons) and cancelled the appointment. Actually, I forgot to cancel the appointment.

Danielle was lovely about it and offered to talk through my concerns if I wanted to.

One of those concerns was that I really lack direction in my life. So much so that I wasn’t sure I was even capable of meeting the expectations of life coaching.

Well, today I went through with the first introductory session. This is a great opportunity to find out more about the coaching process and get a feel for whether it’s something you’d like to continue with.

To be perfectly honest, I gained quite a LOT before the phone call even started. I was sent a couple of worksheets to work my way through and the questions on those highlighted some interesting things about myself.

You know how you have stuff floating around the subconscious but you never really sit down and examine it? It was sort of like that. A way of bringing that stuff to the front of your brain and being able to examine it and see a little of what it may mean for you (particularly in relation to life balance - something which is so important and yet seems difficult to achieve).

When I began our phone call session today, I really felt I was struggling to know what I wanted out of life. While I still have a way to go in this area, throughout the course of the coaching session, we discovered I have more direction (or ideas on direction) than I thought I had. That was actually quite an exciting discovery.

One of my fears was that a lifestyle coach might be a little pushy and bossy. Danielle wasn’t like this at all. She was great to talk to and asked some really good questions. I finished the session feeling positive and enthused.

Part of the process is setting some smallish goals to complete before the next session. One set of goals are completed over the first 1-2 days and the other set over the period of a week.

I’ve decided to commit myself to the next 4 weeks and see what happens. It should be lots of fun and quite interesting. Given I like to talk about what is going on in my life, you’re sure to hear more as I continue this process.

In the meantime, you might be interested in checking out Danielle’s coaching options. The offer of a FREE first session is available to everyone so feel free to consider that option if you’d like to try this kind of coaching to find out what it’s like. Danielle is very approachable so feel free to email her if you have any questions.

* image from www.tara.qld.gov.au/

It is 21 years since I played Netball.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

We were a team that hardly ever won. Maybe even NEVER?

Most of us hadn’t been playing netball very long. Maybe a year or two.

Then along came Mrs Thompson.

She was the kind of lady that scared little kids. Well, probably big kids too. I was 11 so I guess I probably considered myself to be a “big kid”.

She was TOUGH. She worked us hard. She took no nonsense.

If you didn’t make it to training on time - you’d better have a VERY good reason.

If you didn’t make it to training at all - look out!!!

If she didn’t think you were putting your full effort in - you’d know about it.

Every. single. one. of us…….LOVED her!!!

She taught us what it meant to be a team.

She taught us that every. single. person has value.

I didn’t come across many adults like her throughout my childhood. When I was around her I felt like I MATTERED. Not by anything she SAID but by her very attitude and actions.

I grew up feeling like a nobody. I didn’t feel like I was GOOD at anything.

Netball was different.

I mattered.

I belonged.

I contributed.

People said I had a chance to be an “A grader”.

No-one had ever made me feel like that before.

Like I could reach for the stars. And maybe, just maybe, hold one in my hand.

I was used to playing around in the dirt.

The dirty. The dusty. The invisible. The forgotten.

In the space of a few weeks we went from a team that had NEVER won a game - to almost unbeatable.

I wasn’t the best player on the team.

But I never ONCE felt like that mattered.

Because EVERYONE mattered.

Mrs Thompson made sure of that.

We only lost 1 game that season. Our second game of the season.

But it wasn’t winning or losing that mattered. It was the effort we put in. If we lost, we trained hard. If we won, we trained hard.

I remember Mrs Thompson talking about how much training we would have to do when we reached A grade. We were being groomed for the future.

A bunch of “losers” being transformed by the love and care of one lady.

At the end of the season, as we celebrated our Grand Final win, Mrs Thompson talked about us being a team. A team that sticks together. She was adamant that every single one of us move into a C-grade team together.

I cried.

I knew we were moving.

Moving a long way away.

To another state.

A city.

A foreign place.

I was losing my team.

I was losing my sense of place in the world.

I cried on that day.

I cried on and off for a time as I settled into a totally foreign land.

Then one day I packed away my tears and tucked them deep inside of me.

I never got to play netball again.

I’m not sure why.

I went back to that child in the dust. Lonely. Unlovable. Invisible. Useless.

Last Saturday the tears came again.

I wandered around the sporting grounds feeling like I didn’t belong.

All the emotion of those childhood days, flooding back to the surface.

Grief over what might have been. Over what I wanted to be.

A part of a team. A person that mattered.

It came out of nowhere. But the tears would be stemmed no more.

I sat in the car. Alone. Alone in a place FILLED with people. Alone and in pain.

And the tears came.

All I wanted was to work on my fitness.

To take the time I was at training and make use of it.

To enjoy some company and fellowship while I trained with the other netballers.

I didn’t know all of this lay hidden. Carefully tucked away in my heart. In a dark corner where no-one would ever find it.

I didn’t know that getting back on the court would bring with it a fresh wave of grief over what I lost. The sights. The sounds. The smells. The feeling of the ball hitting my hand. The sound of pounding feet on the hard surface.

The child within me cried out.

Longing to be wanted.

To be a part of a team.

To matter.

I’m quite a fan of Motivational Speaker Craig Harper. In fact, I subscribe to his blog so that I can get regular doses of his wisdom and inspiration. I’m actually kind of surprised that someone that is such a popular speaker and writer would give of themselves so freely by way of a blog that anyone can read and participate in. I think it shows a lot about his HEART.

This morning I read his post Mind of a Teacher, Heart of a Student and something within that post really spoke to me. He talks about a man he met at a conference he was speaking at named Bobby Cappucchio.

Here’s an excerpt from the post that really stood out to me:

It’s so incredible what we can do when we find a way, rather than find an excuse. There were so many reasons for Bobby to be anything but amazing and nobody would have blamed him. But he chose to live an amazing existence and to be the most he could, with what he has. And he has done it incredibly well.

I hope you do too.

At that moment it hit me right between the eyes that I really DO want more from my life. Those around me that have heard my story are quick to say that I haven’t had the easiest of lives. People haven’t always treated me well and I’ve allowed them to continue doing so into my adult life because I didn’t feel that I deserved anything better.

For a long time I felt that because there were people out there who’d had worse childhood’s than mine, any hardship I may have experienced didn’t count. It wasn’t the worst therefore it had to have been okay. I guess through counselling and having the support of professionals around me, I’m realising that there were things that weren’t OKAY and trying to say they were okay is actually hindering my recovery process.

It’s not easy because I’m very quick to blame myself for things that happen. Even now I have moments of doubt where I think that all of my struggles are in my head and a result of me misunderstanding my whole childhood.

I guess the fact remains that whatever intent my parents had, it didn’t change the fact that I FELT unwanted, unloved, insecure and worthless. It has taken a long time for my counsellor to get through to me that my feelings are VALID irrespective of how anyone else might view the situation.

I grew up feeling that my feelings were invalid. That I was too emotional and basically my emotions were WRONG. For those who don’t read my “For I Know the Plans I Have For You” blog, I wrote about one such experience from my childhood in this blogpost.

So, where am I heading with all of this? Some of you in your comments over the past couple of days have reminded me of the power of adversity to make us stronger. I feel like I’m ready for the adversity to be over so I can get on with the “being stronger” part of my life.

But we don’t always have that choice do we? Some people seem to go through life with knock after knock and how they keep getting back on their feet is beyond me. Lately I’ve been feeling like the wind has been knocked out of me and I’m not confident I have the strength to keep getting up after each knock-down.

Perhaps this is where my fear stems from in terms of weaning off my current medication. I’m ready to give in and accept a kind of “half life” rather than go through yet another round of knock downs and struggle.

But the human spirit is amazingly powerful.

Here’s another excerpt from Craig’s post:

What too many people don’t realise is that it’s the challenges and the discomfort that cause us to grow if, and when, we step up to the plate. As I’ve said before, pain is our greatest teacher if we choose to learn.

I’m not disputing the fact that we all face real adversity, real pain, real tragedy and real hardship even in our privileged lives (if you’re not starving, you’re privileged), what I am saying is that we can choose to be exceptional despite our situation, despite our circumstance and despite whatever challenges life throws at us.

I want to choose to be exceptional.

I want to CHOOSE to be exceptional.

I don’t say this lightly. I’m still afraid of what the future holds. I’m still working through issues and events that have hurt me and made me consider myself to be a worthless human being.

I don’t believe for a second that the road ahead of me is going to be easy. But I choose to believe that it is going to be worth it.

So, where to from here?

Farmboy and I have pretty much decided that I will “detox” from the medication I’m currently on, do a stint on nothing and then make a decision about whether to try another medication. I’m not against using medication to help with my condition. I AM against taking a medication that doesn’t help. Maybe what I’m taking now is helping more than we realise. Or maybe not. There is only one way to find out.

The plan - such that it is

I have another 2 and a half weeks until I begin working with my personal trainer. In this time I want to continue working on my fitness and strength so that when we do begin, I’m ready to hit the ground running.

Last night I actually managed to jog the full 3km that I’ve been working back up to. It’s frustrating to think that this time last year I could jog 5km and enjoy it rather than it being a chore. It’s hard not to lament my loss of fitness but I’m trying to focus on the future rather than the past. I’ve done it before so I KNOW I can do it again.

I will then have 4 weeks of training with my personal trainer before I next see the Psychiatrist and we begin the gradual process of weaning off the drugs. The poor girl has no idea what she’s getting herself into. I hope she doesn’t bale on me when I explain what’s happening. I think I *need* her now more than ever.

I am *hoping* to be able to maintain as much exercise as possible during the weaning process as it will help.

The future?

Right now, what the future holds is anybody’s guess. Not that any of us REALLY know what the future holds for us.

In terms of this blog, it will be “business as usual” as much as is possible. I will keep you posted as we go (need my cheer squad and support team with me on this one).

I still have fear and doubt. But I feel somewhat comfortable with the decision we’ve made. There are still some logistical details to put into place. But we have time.

I am thankful that I have a wonderful husband, a wonderful counsellor and all of you to support me through this. Never doubt that you are a valued member of my blog community. Each and every one of you.

{{{HUGS}}} to all.

Lightening

I’m a Perfectionist. There! I’ve said it!

You know, for a long time I thought there was NO WAY I was a Perfectionist. After all, I never did ANYTHING perfectly. So how could I be a perfectionist? I guess I kind of missed the point there for a while.

Recently a few of you pointed out this tendency toward perfection when I moaned about the disaster my tea cosy turned out to be. And you were right. I wanted it to be perfect. I missed the point. If my swap partner wanted a “perfect” tea cosy they could have simply gone looking for something mass produced in the shops.

After all, we can find all kinds of perfect items in stores can’t we? Racks of jumpers all cut in the exact same shape. Mass produced tablecloths and prints for the wall, right down to almost identical looking pieces of fruit and vegetables.

I guess somewhere in our striving for perfection, we lost something.

Uniqueness.

Well, Cate now has herself a totally unique tea cosy and one with it’s very own history even before it’s first use (as one of you kindly pointed out to me).

Up until now, my craft of choice has been counted cross-stitch. Over time I’ve had a number of comments as to how I can be bothered. I didn’t really understand why people thought is was hard to do.

In my mind, it was the perfect craft for someone like me who is unable to stitch 2 stitches the same. It certainly satisfies the perfectionist within as every single stitch is a nice even identical size.

I’d been contemplated giving some hand-stitching a go. Seeing Rhonda Jeans creations was certainly putting a yearning in my heart to be able to do something like that. In fact, I’ve been wanting to stitch this pattern for some time now:

It’s exactly the type of thing I’d like to hang on a wall in my home. But of course, I procrastinated on that. Partly because I wasn’t sure where to start with it but mostly because I didn’t think I could stitch “good enough” to satisfy myself.

So it was interesting when Marita sent me this:

I felt excited and challenged all at once. In my hands I had all that I needed to actually give this type of stitching a go. I could no longer procrastinate on the grounds that I didn’t know *how* to do a stitchery. It came with instructions. In fact, it came with EVERYTHING I needed to get started.

So I pulled it all out and began.

My stitches were uneven.

My lines wobbly.

I looked at what I had done.

It looked just right.

It kind of hit me that it was MEANT to look uneven and a little wobbly. ANY machine can make a perfectly stitched picture.

What a machine can’t do is instil thoughts and emotions into a creation. A hand-stitched item will always be unique. You’ll never find 2 the same. Just as you’ll never find 2 finger prints the same.

As I stitched, the colour of my threads made the bleak and empty looking sketch come to life. It hit me that stitching could be the adult equivalent to colouring in!!!! Remember how cool it was to colour in as a kid??? Okay, remember last week when you were colouring in? It’s like that only way cooler!!!!

Into each stitch went the kindness of human touch, the caring of a human heart and the joy of seeing a creation emerge.

Much more than simply stitching, I felt myself grow and learn as I spent time with this creation. I began to really understand how essential colour is when it comes to beauty. How life without colour is rather lifeless. And how life that is uniform and perfect can be rather dull and boring and well, lacking in humanity.

I guess that’s what I mean when I say there is beauty in imperfection. It’s a truer reflection of our own humanity. The fact that our failings bring colour to our life just as much as our successes.

Well, I’m still a perfectionist. But I am TRYING to see the beauty in imperfection.

Oh, and the finished stitchery I promised you I’d show you…..

Oh yes, the perfectionist in me noticed that I should have ironed it before I took the photo!

Now I just need to decide how I want to finish this. I’d like to hang it in my kitchen as part of my Christmas decorating so need to work out whether to frame it or what would be best.

Any suggestions would be most welcome.

I was thinking some more about the issue of helping others that we were discussing yesterday. One thing I wondered was whether there is another factor at play here besides our busy lives that prevents us from offering a word of encouragement or some help to others. Our own self worth.

If we perceive another person as “having it all together” or at least doing better than us, does that make us reluctant to encourage them? Do we assume that they don’t need any encouragement? Or do we assume that encouragement from little óle us wouldn’t be worth anything to them?

One thing I have been learning recently is that how I perceive things is not always how they are. I guess this should be rather obvious to me given that not everyone views me the same way that I view myself.

Which makes me pause for a moment and consider the fact that other people may be the same. Perhaps I perceive them as “having it all together” when in reality they’re just as unsure about themselves as I am. If I would really appreciate some encouragement, the occasional helping hand or note just to say “hey, just wanted to make you smile today”, perhaps others would as well.

Then of course there is the fear of rejection or humiliation. If the other person laughs at me or rejects my offer in some way, is that only going to confirm my initial assessment of myself? Can my fragile self esteem handle an adverse reaction of any kind?

I wonder then if I have done that to others. In my striving to appear to “have it all together”, have I pushed other people away (unintentionally of course)? There is a large amount of humility required to admit you need help and then accept help.

Do we sometimes deny people the opportunity to give? There is a great blessing in giving. Whether it be the gift of time, goods, services, a smile, encouragement…..and the list goes on. When we refuse to accept those tentative offers, are we denying that person the blessing that comes through giving?

I think I have a lot more questions than I have answers right now but this topic is certainly challenging me to think.

Does anyone else have anything else to add to the discussion on giving and receiving? It does seem appropriate at this time of year. What kinds of fears or other obstacles stand in the way of you either giving OR receiving?

There were some wonderful comments made in response to my post yesterday and I plan on answering them once this post is completed. I would however, like to highlight one particular comment for those of you who perhaps missed it.

Beth said:

We have had some similar struggles and have taken a long time to recover. Life as we knew it to be became scary and unpredictable. For us it was about 2 years for life to reflect ‘normal’. We have grown from this experience and look for joy consciously each day (we list 4 things each that were a source of pleasure for us). We also list 4 things each that we did to bring joy to someone else (a concept from ‘Eat Mangoes Naked’ by SARK). Our kids love this and it helps us to actively look for them. I actually make a practice to write mine down (they make me smile again later when I re-read my list).

You can read her 4 things in each category at the time of her comment by visiting the comments section of HELP. What greater gift can we really offer to one another than to make another person smile? I think by far it’s my favourite because it doesn’t cost anything, doesn’t *have* to take a lot of time and is VERY contagious.

What a wonderful thing they are teaching their children. To actively seek joy in each day AND actively promote joy in other peoples lives. I LOVE this suggestion. Thank you so much for sharing it Beth. I’m going to start this with my own children.

What are you going to do today to bring a smile to another persons face? Perhaps you’d like to add your suggestions to the comments section so we can all share our ideas.

….the newest addition to our family. And my new “best friend” (well, almost “best” - after all, he can’t quite replace my DH now can he?).

This is Rufus (I think that’s what I’m going to call him). Everyone wave and say “hello Rufus”. LOL. My DH bought him for me. After being together 13+ years this is the first teddy bear he’s ever bought me.

Now before you go “awwww….your DH is so sweet” (which he is by the way) I should tell you that he bought me this teddy because I asked him to. LOL.

When we met I owned about 65 soft toys. I imagine he thought I didn’t need anymore. Well, in a way he’d have been right. Throughout my teenage years, my soft toy collection seemed to grow exponentially. Some were gifts from friends and family. Many were from those soft toy machines (have you seen them? With that claw thing you have to grab them with?). I had a boyfriend who was very adept at getting things out of those machines. I even had one that had been won in a sideshow at the Royal Melbourne Show (by a different guy). That was in the days before they fell apart in the first 24 hours.

Now a couple of HUGE garbage bags of soft toys isn’t so bad when you’re on your own. It even isn’t too bad when you have a husband to share a house with. As the kids arrived and started being given their own soft toys, I decided it was time to part with some of my own. I had to do it as a gradual process as they really were true friends to me and parting with them wasn’t easy.

I also wondered how healthy it was for my marriage to have so many soft toys given to me by other males so it seemed fitting that I gradually let go of those. The fond memories remain of course. But it was time to allow those memories to be a part of my past and not my present.

A number of weeks ago it suddenly occured to me that my DH had never bought me a soft toy of any description. I turned to him and said “you’ve never bought me a teddy”. I think he wondered where that had come from. I continued the conversation with “I want you to buy me a teddy”.

One thing I’ve learnt about males in my almost 12 years of marriage is that if you don’t tell them what you want (in a nice way of course), they have no idea. It’s not that they don’t care or they’re not thoughtful. They just don’t seem to *know*. Well, that’s what my DH is like anyway.

So, did he rush out and buy me a soft toy? No. He promptly forgot all about the conversation. LOLOL. So the other day I said to him “you haven’t bought me a teddy yet” and he admitted that he had forgotten. One thing my mental health issues have taught me is to have more compassion for people who forget things. I’ve always had a good memory and have found DH’s lack of memory at times quite frustrating. Of course, I’ve also found my own lack of memory in recent times quite frustrating. But at least now I understand that he doesn’t mean to forget.

Well, the other day he remembered. I hadn’t given it another thought since our conversation (during which I also told him a great place to go would be the Post Office) so when he turned up with this teddy, I was still surprised in spite of the fact that it was all my idea in the first place. LOL. This teddy is quite a bit bigger than what I had in mind. But he is incredibly soft and oh so cuddly. Just what I need when DH isn’t available to give me a *real* hug.

Another thing that has really helped my communication and relationship with my DH has been understanding a little about the five love languages. My primary love language is the giving and receiving of gifts. For a long time I struggled with the fact that I was so “materialistic” when in fact, it was simply that “gifts” is my primary love language. A flower picked from the garden can have as much meaning to me as an expensive diamond ring when it comes to the expression of love that I feel upon receiving it.

If you’ve never heard of the 5 Love Languages, I would encourage you to click on that link and have a read. It can really make a massive difference to your relationship. To give you a quick overview, the 5 love languages are said to be:

* Words of Affirmation

* Quality Time

* Receiving Gifts

* Acts of Service

* Physical Touch

My DH’s primary love language is words of affirmation. As this rates fairly low on my own list, I wasn’t giving him the words that he needed. It’s not easy to express love in a love language that isn’t your own. It takes quite a lot of effort and retraining the way you think. But it is so worth it if you want to take your relationship to a whole new level of understanding and depth.

The love languages are also so important when it comes to our children. If we don’t speak love to them in their own language - they’re not going to hear the message “I love you”. So far each of our children has had a different love language - different from each other and also different from us. In fact, if our youngest child, whose love language is difficult to determine yet, turns out to have the love language “Acts of Service” then we’ll have all 5 love languages within our family.

It’s not always easy to determine what you or your loved ones love language is. For instance, my top 2 are very close. The second one for me is “acts of service” and it took a while for me to even decide whether is in fact was “gifts” or “service” that was my primary love language they were so close. Over time, I’ve come to the conclusion that “gifts” is actually a stronger love language for me than “service”.

The easiest way to determine your primary love language is to pay attention to the way that you most automatically express love. I enjoy doing things for people. But I LOVE to give gifts. Big gifts, little gifts, whatever. I just get a LOT of satisfaction from giving things to people. My DH likes to tell me how much he loves me. If I give him gifts and he tells me he loves me, we’re both speaking our OWN language but what it means to the other may not be the same as what it would mean to us. Of course, now that we understand each others primary love language, it is also easier to understand the love that we’re trying to speak to one another (even if it isn’t our own preferred method of receiving love).

When I talk about a primary love language, it doesn’t mean that the rest of the languages don’t exist for us. In fact, we all give and receive love in all 5 of those ways at different times. And it is important that we do receive love in all of those ways. It’s simply that 1 or 2 of those “languages” will speak to us more loudly than the others.

The website www.fivelovelanguages.com is a great resource with lots of information to read. Dr Gary Chapman has written a number of books on the topic but you’ll find quite a lot on his website as well.

Now back to the teddy. It took me a long time to get to the point where I was comfortable with telling my DH what I wanted. I always thought that if he loved me enough, he would just *know* what it was I wanted. It just doesn’t work like that. His not knowing is not a reflection on how much he cares about me. It’s just who he is.

So if your DH is the kind that never buys you the right present (or any present), consider coming right out and telling him what you would like. If you like surprises for Christmas - don’t be surprised if your surprise is no present. Instead, why not ask him if he’d like you to write a list of ideas for him. After a number of years my DH has worked out that “stationery” is always on my list. So he’ll now tend to get me stationery if he needs a gift idea. But he didn’t come to that conclusion on his own. He had to have it written down in black and white in front of him for a long time before it etched itself into his brain.

Unless your DH or any other male in your life is an exceptional being, he aint gonna figure it out by hints and whining. In fact, I think males might have one of those tune out sensors when it comes to the whine. LOL. Just use a pleasant voice and come out and tell him what you would like. And you may have to do it more than once - if he’s anything like my DH, he will forget. LOL.

Well, out of all the teddy bears and soft toys that I have owned in my life, Rufus is by far the most special. It hasn’t mattered one little bit that I had to prompt my DH to buy him for me. All that matters is that he’s been hand chosen by the most important person in the world to me. And I won’t be decluttering either of them!

Some of you might be thinking the dreaded “P” word is “perfection”. Especially if you’re a good little flybaby (um…I was going to say like me but it’s actually “unlike” me lol - I’m not a *good* flybaby). Nope, not this time. This time the dreaded “P” word is PAST!

Hmmm…..well, like or not, we all have one (a past that is). I’m 33 (and a bit) years old so I have 33 (and a bit) years of a past. Actually, according to some schools of thought, I have more than 33 (and a bit) years of past - if you include my time in utero. I guess it doesn’t matter how many years of it there are, the fact of the matter is that we all have a PAST.

Well, this has been quite an interesting week for me in more ways than one. I brought some of my past crashing into my present. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, in one instance, it’s been quite a fun thing - sharing memories and prompting one another’s memories. I won’t give too much away about that one just yet…. but stay tuned.

Some other parts of my past that have cropped up in my life have brought up some very painful memories. Things that I *thought* had been sufficiently dealt with and left behind. WRONG! They had simply been stuffed deep inside of me, deep enough that I could pretend they didn’t exist. Not deep enough that they weren’t still affecting my life in some way (albeit subconsciously).

Somewhere along the line of my childhood, I became rather good at burying my feelings deep inside of me. It was a surprise for me to learn that about myself. You see, I always thought I was a fairly open person. What I didn’t realise was that that was a facade. A facade that even had me fooled for many years. And under that carefully placed facade was a miriad of pain buried so deeply that I thought I’d successfully made it go away. I was wrong. All I had succeeded in doing was putting off the inevitable for another day.

I’ve mentioned before the fact that I had a nervous breakdown in May 2006. Physically it was the result of struggling with post natal depression for a couple of years. I was emotionally bankrupt. What was unexpected about this was I no longer had the emotional strength to keep all that stuff buried deep inside of me. Who knew that all these years I have been wasting valuable emotional energy holding all of this rubbish deep down inside me and trying to pretend it didn’t exist?

In actual fact, this whole year has been a journey of me attempting to deal with those buried emotions and hurts. And it’s been sheer hard slog. Not a lot of fun at all. Most of the time I desperately wish I could wave a magic wand and it would simply disappear. That my past wouldn’t even exist.

Not only does it NOT work like that, it’s important that it DOESN’T work like that. We can’t erase the past anymore than we can pretend it doesn’t exist. Whether we like it or not, it has played a part in *who* we are today.

BUT, we do have a choice about how our past affects who we are. Hard times suck. Hurts are hurtful. Let’s face it, human beings have a great capacity to hurt one another. There is only 1 person I know who ever walked this earth that will never let you down and that is Jesus Christ. He was perfect then and he’s perfect now. Every other member of the human race faces a huge struggle with imperfection. And as a result of that imperfection we are going to hurt one another and let each other down from time to time.

I have 2 internal struggles with this being a fact. The first is that I have very high expectations on myself. I am a perfectionist. I would very much love to be perfect (oooh, there’s the other “p” word). And I tend to be very hard on myself when I don’t live up to my own expectations. I’m particularly hard on myself if I let someone else down or cause them hurt. I find forgiving myself extremely hard to do.

The second internal struggle is that I have very high expectations of others. I rely on them not to let me down or hurt me. And when that happens, I find it very difficult to deal with. BUT, I don’t tend to blame it on that person. I blame it on myself - that there is some part of me lacking that has caused that person to hurt me. Neither of these options are great. The fact of the matter is that most times when this happens, it’s just a part of the imperfections of life. People change, people move on, people make mistakes….. Like it or not, it happens.

I have discovered something about myself this week as I’ve been reflecting on things. I am the kind of person who doesn’t let go very easily. When something or someone means a lot to me, they mean a lot to me for LIFE. I’m not sure that all personalities are the same with this. I think some people move on from their past much more easily than others. Or perhaps some people have a greater tendency to simply forget things than others. A good memory is not always a blessing.

You know what? I’m not really all that sure where I’m heading with this post. LOL. I guess I want to point out the fact that like it or not, we all have a past and we can run all we like, but the past runs with us. Because it is inside of us and it is a part of us. But even if parts of our past (big or small) are bad, it doesn’t mean that the bad has to stay with us.

You know the saying “that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”? It’s so true. I’m not saying I plan on putting myself out there to get deliberately hurt. But if we can make our way through hard times and hurts, we can use those experiences to grow in wisdom and understanding of our own humanity. I do want to point out that there is a difference between strength and bitterness. Strength brings with it an ability to see things from a new perspective. Bitterness will eat you up from the inside out and leave you with a hollow shell of a person.

I do think there is a balance that needs to be found. To some extent we need to move forward from our past. It isn’t healthy to continue to live in a time that is now gone. It’s also not healthy to deny the things that have happened in our past. If you feel like there are hurts in your past that need to be dealt with, I would encourage to find someone to walk this path with you. I have a wonderful counsellor who is helping me work through issues. I think without her I would be in danger of drowning in my own grief and pain some days.

Interestingly enough, I have heard the term depression to be described as being deeply repressed emotion. Since I have been diagnosed with having clinical depression, I have been amazed at the number of people out there who struggle with a similar condition. While I’m not for a second trying to play down the physical causes of depression, I can’t help but wonder how many of those who struggle with it have a past that has been shoved so far down inside of them they can hardly acknowledge it existed.

I think I need to finish this post by pointing out the fact that I am in no way an expert when it comes to all things emotional and psychological. Our minds and emotions are very complex things. And each one of us is different. My hope in sharing some of my own journey is that it might encourage others out there who are struggling, to work on coming to terms with their own past and their own imperfections. Out of this acceptance I believe comes true love. Love of ourselves which in turn gives us freedom to love others more completely.

Sending you all ((((HUGS)))) just cos I feel like it.

Jodi

I had a bit of a sad moment on Friday night. We took the kids to see a motorbike stunts demonstration with live band etc in a large shed. It was rather loud and I’m not up to being out amongst people too much yet. After about an hour, I went out to the car to give myself a break from the noise, the smoke and the people.

I sat in the car and worked on my knitting. I’m so pleased I’ve taken it up as a hobby. It really is quite soothing. However, I must admit to feeling somewhat alarmed that I was sitting there knitting instead of being inside in amongst the action. I guess I associate knitting with the grandmother generation. I had a slight moment of panic and a few tears at what I was afraid I had become (ie old). After all, if wasn’t that long ago that DH and I were in the midst of organising such events as these. I think I was about 7.5 months pregnant with DS3 for the last event we were overseeing (not exactly the same as this one but similar). DH found it quite interesting as people kept asking him questions about it in the lead up to the event and on the night as they assumed he was involved.

As I sat there knitting and pondering the turns that life has taken, a peace came over me. I returned to the thinking about seasons that I began back when I wrote my post One size does NOT fit all . I think right now I’m in a season of rest and reflection. Sometimes I want to fight against this season and move into a more “interesting”season. It doesn’t work like that though. I think one of the many benefits of a simpler life, is accepting that life has ebbs and flows and to a point, flows better if we relax and move with those ebbs and flows.

Let’s consider the seasons for a moment. We think of seasons as being weather related. Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring. But they are more than simply a change in weather. They reflect seasons in life. Times of life and birth, happiness and heartache, death, dormancy, rest, hope, reflection, colour, vibrancy…. all of these words and many more may spring to mind.

You could relate these seasons to a day. During our “winter” season of the day we sleep then in the early morning (or not so early for some people lol) comes the spring. The hope of all that a new day brings. As the day progresses and the sun reaches it’s peak, we have the warmest part of the day or the “summer”. Then in those twilight hours (often accompanied by beautiful colours) we have the “autumn” and the winding down in preparation for another night of rest (winter).

I used to think that life was a nice straight line. You were born at one end of the line and when you died the line stopped. Now I’m wondering if life is more of a spiral. We move round and round through the seasons many times in our life. Perhaps not always in the same order and often varying in length. After all, the seasons in nature are constantly changing and bringing with them an element of surprise.

Being in a “winter” doesn’t mean that the end is near. It’s simply a time to rest and reflect. A time to recharge the batteries, to learn and to grow and be ready for the spring-time when it comes.

We need to be careful when we compare ourselves to others. Perhaps we aren’t in the same “season” as them right now. What’s right for one person won’t necessarily be right for another. Perhaps it will be at another time. Perhaps it never will be.

Whatever season you’re in right now. Take the time to enjoy all that that season brings to your life. There is richness and beauty and meaning in every season of life that we experience - if only we take the time to notice.

Last night I made my own Tortillas for the second time. Do you remember me saying I wasn’t sure if I would make them again or not? This time I decided to apply the baby step principle. Made the dough and left it to rest. Came back and divided it up into balls and placed them in a sealed bowl. Came back a little while later and rolled out 4 of the balls into Tortillas and placed them on a dinner plate, covered in plastic to stop them drying out (used cut up bread bags between them so they didn’t stick together). It took just another 2 stints of rolling out 4 Tortillas to complete the task. Come tea time I was nowhere near as worn out as I had been last time (when I rolled all 12 just before tea).

Well they were once again a HUGE hit with the family so I’m glad I’ve come up with a method of making them which seems less of a chore and more of a pleasure. I can see they’re going to become a regular on our menu plan.

It got me thinking about the whole concept of baby steps and how much of a wonderful concept this has been for me. I know it’s not a new concept. I first heard of it from www.flylady.net . I’ll admit I don’t follow her “system” completely - but I do like a lot of her concepts and have found them quite helpful.

I’m the kind of person who gets easily overwhelmed. If it feels like a task is going to take me a long time, I can’t seem to even think about starting it. Breaking it down into smaller steps seems to work really well and takes away some of that overwhelmed, panicked type feeling I get. I think my DD might be similar. I’ve noticed when it comes to tidying up her room, she will dissolve into tears of desperation very quickly. But if I ask her to pick up 10 things or pick up her clothes off the floor - she can manage that quite cheerfully. It’s just about breaking it down into babysteps.

I guess another aspect of my personality that lets me down is my impatience. I like things to be achieved “yesterday”. I’m sure that’s something many of you will find familiar. We live in a fast paced society where everyone is in a huge hurry - even if they have no idea why. Like the saying “Rome wasn’t built in a day”, I can’t help but feel that most things that are worth doing aren’t going to just happen in an instance. If I can be content to take babysteps toward my goals, I can enjoy the journey as well as the final destination.

There are so many parts of life where the concept of babysteps can be applied. From learning a new piece on the piano (or learning any new skill really) to recoverying from a major illness.

I’m having to be content with babysteps in my new garden. And we’re taking babysteps in turning our house into a home. Even our journey toward simple living has had to be done in a long series of teeny tiny baby steps. Of course, the concept of baby steps itself fits in very well with the ethos of simple living.

Well, I’d best be off and apply these baby step principles to the lasagne I need to make for tea. I’ve been procrastinating as I can’t really be bothered. The meat sauce is already made so all I really need to do is make the white sauce and assemble. I guess there’s an area of baby steps I haven’t mentioned - they only work if you take a step. LOL. This lasagne won’t make itself while I sit here.

What ways have you found the concept of babysteps helpful in your life?

I wouldn’t describe myself as someone who likes to be *different*. Especially if being different in some way might make me stand out against the crowd. I did manage to solve the whole “peer pressure” issue at school mostly by surrounding myself with friends who had similar interests to myself.

What I wasn’t really prepared for is that the issues of “fitting in” and “not wanting to be different” don’t really end when you leave school. There are the *in* groups of mothers at school and kindy, the *in* places to hang out and the *in* people to have as friends. It kind of annoys me that some people seem to have struggled to mature past the adolescent stage of life but in general it doesn’t really affect my quality of life. The *in* people are still a select few and the majority of the population are more *average* like myself. (I don’t mean average in a derogatory way either).

However, there are still a certain amount of standards or expectations that are generally held within our society. The kind of car you drive says something about you. The size of your home (with the general consensus that “bigger is better”) makes a statement to the rest of the community. Many people size you up by the type of clothes you wear - or more importantly what you dress your CHILDREN in. It’s unreal the price of label brand children’s wear isn’t it. Do you work or do you stay at home. Do you have enough money to buy lunch AND tea at the football club or do you bring your own. How many family holidays do you take and WHERE do you go (or even HOW you get there - not even DH or I have ever been on a large plane, let alone our children).

The kind of job your dad (or husband) has and the kind of salary and kudos that accompany that job. Does your mum work? Do you have the latest gadget toys (before they drop in price of course)? What about a shack or a boat? Are you busy enough that you have to book in to see friends at least a month in advance? How stressed is your life (with more stress adding to your importance in society somehow)? And the list goes on.

I was relaxing in the bath last night and reading the Wellbeing Good Health Guide that I bought from the newsagent the other day. It’s not a cheap magazine and I certainly don’t agree with all the things they print but a lot of the articles really make me stop and think about my life. I love reading stuff that encourages me to think and challenges my thoughts and ideas. If you’ve not heard of it before they have a website at www.wellbeing.com.au .

The article was titled “Desperately Seeking…Me” and written by Melissa Rimac. She begins by talking about the horrible word “should”. You know the one…. “I should be a good mum and allow my kids to play sport, take music lessons and ferry them here there and everywhere so they’ll grow up to be well rounded adults”. “I should be able to manage it all…work, home, family, volunteering….” and the list goes on. I’m sure we could all come up with hundreds of sentences or thoughts that begin with the words “I should….”.

Here’s where I REALLY struggle with the whole peer pressure thing. It’s so much more subtle than the old “c’mon, 1 drink isn’t going to hurt anyone” type pressure that happens at school. It’s ingrained in us as we grow up in society. It’s all around us. Everyone else is doing it so how can it be bad for me?

What’s that saying? Something about if you’re calm while everyone else around you is panicking then you obviously don’t understand the situation. That’s how I feel when I make choices in life that are different from those who are around me. I love my friends - they’re wonderful people. But at times I feel like the direction I’m heading in life is so different to where they are heading and that scares me. It scares me that somehow I’ve got it wrong.

I don’t want to be a leader. I don’t want to be different. I want to follow the crowd. And yes, if the mob of sheep I was following all jumped off the edge of the cliff - I would probably feel quite nervous not to do the same thing myself. LOL.

Problem is, what the majority of society seem to be doing and where they are heading just isn’t ME! I guess I’m on a bit of a journey at the moment to discover who the real me is. All my life I’ve tried so hard to please everyone else. Somehow the only way I could feel positive about myself was through the approval of others. And we all know how impossible it is to keep everyone happy. It’s a very self destructive way to live.

Here’s a quote from the article I mentioned that really hit me between the eyes.

“…the hollow approval of others is much like a sugar hit. Sure, it may give you a quick surge, but it hardly provides much sustenance or nourishment. Rather, it leaves you depleted and almost frantically seeking out something more wholesome.”

Hmmm… how true is that. I think it leaves me seeking out the next sugar rush - and then I end up just plain tired and flat when the “blood sugar levels” of my emotions *crash*.

Here’s another section that really spoke to me:

“Like the contrast between a lovingly prepared homecooked meal and reheated muck that’s been in the bain-marie for a couple of hourss, choosing the mass produced option is like starving yourself of essential nourishment; your instinctive, unique and intrinsic thoughts, feelings and heartfelt desires.”

I’m not trying to say that friendships aren’t important or that how other people view me doesn’t have it’s place. I guess where I’m trying to head with my own understanding of myself is that it can’t be ONLY about that. And that even if there is no-one else on earth who thinks the same way I do, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I am *wrong*.

My head is a whirl of questions, thoughts and ideas. It’s an exciting time in my life as I try to understand who I am and how I do or don’t fit in this world. I still feel quite nervous about the direction my life seems to be taking. But I’ve decided that’s not an excuse to abandon the journey.

One thing I do know - I never want to stop learning, growing and changing. So it’s okay to follow this path and see where it leads. And if down the track, it no longer suits me, I can follow another path. If that leads me back to where I am now. So be it. That doesn’t mean the journey hasn’t been meaningful and an opportunity to learn and grow.

And if you’re reading this and thinking “she’s totally flipped a lid” - well that’s okay too. We’re all unique with a unique path to follow in life. It’s time for us all to dare to be who we were designed to be.