Remembering New Year.  

This time three years ago was my last New Years out on the town. A teeny size eight I slipped on my favourite dress and sky scraper heels. My eyes were smoky and my hair was done with a swoosh of product through the funky style I was rocking at the time. Looking at photos I can honestly say I don’t recognise myself. I looked a million dollars, and a million miles from the way I look today. 


I remember that night so clearly. I remember people complimenting me. Women liked my dress, my hair, my heels. Men buoyed with drink liked the way my dress sat just below the crease of my ass, showing off the only pair of tights I had on hand at short notice of a night out. You know the type? They look like stockings… I remember the smiles, the selfies and the shots. Kissing a stranger at midnight. Singing along to the music. 


Fast forward to tonight and my New Year was spent very differently. Tonight I had a take out for my tea. I showered and then I watched a film in bed. Sounds boring right?? Wrong. For me, it was absolutely perfect. 

To understand why, you might need to look a little deeper into my New Year three years ago. My night out was last minute because a friend convinced me to leave my doldrums and head to town. She was worried about me being alone. When I say alone, I don’t just mean for New Year. I mean totally and utterly. I was estranged from my entire biological family. The person who had been stringing me along for the entire year had also chosen this time to cut me loose. My daughter was staying at her dads and I had little in the way of close friendships. Well, except for one. One who convinced me to get out and feel better. My body was a size eight because the intense stress I was under had caused a flare up of a condition which makes my body completely unable to process food. Weight was dropping off me at an alarming rate. My funky hair? I had that done after a close family member passed away. I don’t know why. I just needed to do something, and chopping all my hair off was it. 

So I went. I slapped on the makeup, painted on my smile and toddled off up to town. 

I remember that night so clearly because I was in a place I’d been frequenting for over ten years. Surrounded by faces I recognised and many I knew well. I was smiling and singing and playing along. But I had never ever felt more alone and miserable in my life. Never.

Just after midnight I had a lift pick me up and fetch me home. I took one last ‘happy’ picture before bed, then I cried myself to sleep. My makeup staining the pillow with a blurry reminder of my pathetic (to me) existence. 


The next day, as I languished in bed watching the hours tick by, I decided I had to make some changes. 2013, and the years leading up to it, had seriously brought me to my knees. Now was time to get back up. 

I decided to start putting myself first, and saying no to people. If they only wanted me around because of what I could do for them then why did I want them in my life? The same went for men. No more men who thought they were doing me a favour by spending time with me. No more men who treat me badly. No more being used. I would rather be single and happy than in love with the wrong person. 

For the first time ever, I stuck to my New Years resolutions. I fought hard for myself. I put myself first. I ‘found’ myself, and my smile, again. Not long after I found my husband. The man who had been right under my nose all along. I always knew he’d treat me well, and that we had a connection; but I pushed him away. I see now that it was because I was afraid. Afraid of falling too hard and getting hurt. Afraid that he’d realise he deserved better. Afraid of losing him before we even tried. 

But try we did, in late February of 2014 we started dating. At Easter we were engaged. Our wedding was September first. Some thought it was too fast, but we knew it was right. I knew it was right. Why wait? 

So here I am. In my bed. Writing this blog. On one of the biggest party nights of the year. Gone is the size eight body and funky hairdo. Gone are the sky high heels and skimpy dresses. The makeup very rarely adorns my face. But what I have instead is so much better. 

I have peace, in my life and in myself. I have a daughter with a step daddy who adores her. A step son whom I feel lucky to have in my life every single day.  My sweet baby boy, who lights up the room with his smile. I have my husband, my partner, my best friend and my soulmate all rolled into one. We get on each other’s nerves, we argue and we grump. But we tell each other we love each other more times than I can count in a day. We are there for each other through thick and thin. We love each other. I have a love in my life. The love of my life. I have made and kept a select few real friends who treat me well and I endeavour to do the same for them. Finally, possibly most surprising of all to the me of 2013, I have worked hard on rebuilding a relationship with someone very important to me. They have worked hard too and we seem to be doing great. That too makes me happy. 

So you can keep your parties, your nights out, your drink and dance. That’s not what matters. It might entertain a person, but ultimately happiness isn’t what you find in a bar. Happiness is being content in your own skin. Happiness is love. Be it for yourself, or for others. Happiness always starts with love. 

So, if you have one New Years resolution that you plan on keeping, let it be to love yourself. Because if you love yourself, others really will follow. The right ones will remain even during the times that love for yourself is a little bit lost, and they’ll love you that little bit extra. 
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! 

A jealous person is a horrible person, right?! 

A jealous person is a horrible person, right?! 

I’m a jealous wife. I’m a jealous friend. I’m jealous of the stranger on the street, the put together mums on the school run, and the frantic ones too. Im jealous of stay at home mums, I’m jealous of working mums. I’m jealous of my hairdresser, the lady in the fish and chip shop and the garbage man. In all honesty I’m jealous of pretty much anyone, well no, not anyone. I’m jealous of the healthy. I’m jealous of the able. I’m jealous of those seemingly better equipped to cope with chronic illness or disability than me. 

To admit to being jealous is a scary thing for me to do. People assume that if you’re jealous of someone you automatically harbour resentment for them. You wish them to fail, be ‘brought down a peg or two’, for them to be miserable. A jealous person is a horrible person, right?  For me I hope, that is not the case. That’s not how I roll. 

Just because I’m jealous of you doesn’t mean I wish bad things upon you. Honestly I am the biggest cheerleader when my friends and family achieve something, I’m always incredibly proud. I just wish I was able to live like ‘normal people’ do. 

It’s hard not to hate yourself when you have a trickle of jealousy running through every adult relationship you hold. Particularly on days that trickle becomes a raging torrent, sweeping away your sensibilities and spewing forth over whomever unwittingly triggered it. Usually this happens on a hard day, a day full of pain and exhaustion, but that’s no excuse. 

I think I find dealing with the jealousy I hold towards my husband the hardest to deal with. My husband is my carer. He does so much for me, and our children. To the point he’s given up work to keep me safe and as well as possible, losing his social life somewhere along the way too. So what do I have to be jealous of? Well, I will tell you…

I’m jealous of the fact he is the main carer now, not just of the kids but of me too. I’m jealous that he can get up on a morning and function, he can do the school run and shopping and anything else needed. I’m jealous that he can run around with our children and make them squeal with sheer delight. I’m jealous that I’m often stuck in my bed and missing the children growing up whilst he’s in the thick of it. I could go on, but you get the idea. What makes things worse is on top of the jealousy, there’s the thought that to be jealous of someone who does so much for you, you MUST be a bad person. 

So I’m letting it go. Not the jealousy, I know from years of experience (and counselling) that whilst ever I’m this ill jealousy will factor in my life. I’m giving up feeling bad about it. 

My jealousy is my own. It’s my cross to bare. I’ve come to realise I’m not jealous so much of what you can do, more because of what I can’t. If I have to choose, I would rather deal with feelings of jealousy than feelings of self loathing. I’ve been there, it’s no fun. So I’ve accepted my jealousy and I’m not going to feel bad over it. As long as it remains a trickle most of the time, and I can still live and be happy for those around me, then I can live with that. On those bad days, well I’ll do my best and I’m not above apologising if I’m in the wrong. As for my husband, he knows me well enough to realise how much I truly love and appreciate him. 

Besides, whilst ever I’m jealous I have the extra impetus to keep trying. Pushing forward. Moving on. Living MY life to the best of my ability. 

The Disappointing Truth. 

Are you feeling better today?

I get asked this nearly every day of my life. Or something similar. The answer? Well, that depends on who you are. An acquaintance gets Yeah, much better today. Thanks! Family, they usually are told I’m doing ok. 

But there are a tiny few who get the truth. Some are told how, one issue may have improved, but another is ten times worse. How, the virus everyone else has got over is still crippling me a month on. How, everything hurts. Some are even let in on the fact that I’m down. That, though I love my husband and children, I miss being me. I’m lonely stuck in my bed day in day out. I wish with all my heart I could be the tiniest bit spontaneous or fun. Even fewer are let in on the feelings of jealousy, that I hate myself for. Longing for the life others have. The life without pain and illness. 

But why only a few? Why do so many get the lie? I’ll tell you why. Because the truth disappoints people. 

Every time someone asks how I am, I know the answer they want. Everyone wants to hear you’re better. But for someone like me, better doesn’t really come. Even my good days are most people’s bad. Yes, I could still tell the truth. But then I’d have to have the awkward moment where people don’t really know where to go with the conversation. Or I’d have to be upbeat and laugh it off, be tough. I don’t always have the energy to be tough. 

I tried it for a while. I put it all out there. No holds barred. Someone asked me, I told them the truth. It didn’t last long before friends disappeared. I was told I was wallowing in my health problems, becoming a ‘martyr’ to them. A so called friend even told me how I always brought her down, and I should think more about how it impacts others to hear such depressing things. She then kindly extricated herself from my life. The thing was, she wasn’t the only one who told me how much of a burden I was. 

So I learned my lesson. I built my walls. I put on a smile and tell the world I’m fine! Thanks for asking xx