#1166 Of Course, it’s working

I sit at my laptop, day after day.

Night after night.

I squeeze in moments at work.

I think about it most of my spare time.

I think about it most of my ‘doing stuff’ time.

I lie in bed and count what I need to write.

I sit on the couch, and remind myself of what I am yet to catch up on my blog.

And I am writing even more now with this online course I am doing.

And simply, I am grateful to report, that the online writing course is working.

It is making me think. Reassess EVERYTHING. See things in a structured light, with themes and 3 acts and narrative questions and high stakes…

I love it. But it has made me realise one massive thing…

I have A LOT of work to do!

But it is my passion, therefore I will happily do it. ♥

 

 

#1142 The plan B writing course

Following rejection, it is vital to make yourself another plan.

It keeps you focused. Out of a state of funk. And it helps when it is an online course, therefore there are no maximum quotas of 2 people to fill up the room (not resentful much?!)

Today my online writing course started and I excitedly jumped aboard the introduction ship…

But, what to write?

What I wanted was to just write this:

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Well it was the truth. In a plain and simple nutshell. Scaling it back to basics, keeping it real… that was it. But they wanted to know more. Like where I lived, what I did, what I wanted to get out of this…

I answered some of the default questions…

F&*k it. I’ll post it for you. If you’d like to know my brief writing history background… then happy reading 🙂

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#1137 Something, anything…

What do I write about?

What do I choose to post gratitude about?

Or rather the question should be, what can I post gratitude about?

What good ‘thing’ can I find, in a day where…

I have experienced a long-awaited rejection…

I have felt unnecessary wrath from delusional folk…

I have cried tears I didn’t know were there…

I have discovered my constant emotions, being flat, unwavering and in a state of chronic stress…

I have listened and listened and wondered, when will someone listen to me…

I have become overwhelmed by the complexity of life… it is all too much… there is too much happening… it will never be my turn.

HOW DO I FIND GRATITUDE IN THAT?

Let me at least, try.

I have experienced a long-awaited rejection… failure is the path to success.

I have felt unnecessary wrath from delusional folk… they are delusional and just, let them be mad.

I have cried tears I didn’t know were there… better out than in.

I have discovered my constant emotions, being flat, unwavering and in a state of chronic stress… I am now aware and can act to rectify my physical and emotional state.

I have listened and listened and wondered, when will someone listen to me… I need to make them listen.

I have become overwhelmed by the complexity of life… it is all too much… there is too much happening… it will never be my turn.

Just breathe… it is the end of a long day… don’t over-analyse… tomorrow will be here soon.

Every one gets their turn.

And just like that. Though I’m not completely transformed… I think I just found my somethings…

 

 

#1112 Letting go

Letting go.

People think it’s a sign of weakness. It’s not. It shows strength.

People think it’s a sign you’ve given up. You haven’t. You’ve just decided to put your energies to more useful efforts.

People think it’s a sign you’ve succumbed to pressure. No way. You are just focusing on positivity.

When you don’t forgive, you’re not doing the other party harmyou are inflicting it upon yourself.”

I’ve been thinking of letting go for a long time now. And by some grand design, I’m seeing snippets of it wherever I go.

Im feeling and living it as I go about my day to day.

Letting go doesn’t happen overnight. It requires deliberation, conscious thought, and a genuine willingness to give up what does not serve us.

And whether the letting go today happened in the form of baby girl maturing and letting go of insecure habits… whether it was my letting go of past grudges and hurts… or even if it was me trying to let go of preconceived notions, a controlling complex and the need to have it all my way instead of ‘life’s way’… or all of the above…

I am actually starting to let go.

And the beautiful thing about letting go of the old? It gives you something new to hold.

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Sometimes, it is magic. ✨💫

Photo by Yohann Lc on Unsplash

 

#1089 Rebirth of an orchid

I entered the laundry today.

Within moments – “Oh!”

Shocked. Startled. Amazed beyond belief.

I was moved even.

It was about the Phalaenopsis plant. Rather, to you and me and most Tom, Dick and Nancy’s, the orchid. MY orchid. The plant that had been gifted to us when baby girl was born, the plant I had kept alive… until recently.

Until the move.

I am honestly not sure if it has bloomed since we moved house. Last summer, despite it being next to a window, I don’t recall seeing it blossom once, NOT ONCE… it soon moved to a less prominent position, but still by a window, and still facing the same side of the house as it was before… only it was in a different room. The laundry.

I was hopeful for so long. This plant held ties with baby girl’s arrival. Sure, it’s miraculous to keep these things growing beyond a few years. Plants die, ndoor potted ones more so… I get it.

But this one I COULD NOT LET GO OF.

I watered it. Gave it food. Trimmed some dead leaves and branches from it. With no change and the soil becoming more like sand than dirt, I started to contemplate throwing it away.

Again… I just couldn’t. I left it there in the laundry, facing the window, with dust settling on the leaves… thinking one day, I would do something with it.

I just didn’t know what.

So to walk in today and find this…

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What? My orchid was alive? Reborn from brittle soil when I least expected it, its seed lying dormant for the longest time, waiting, just waiting, for the right combination of circumstances to spring forth…

I honestly, clapped with glee. Got teary. I am so glad I didn’t give up.

You all know what this means. I may not throw out a plant now, NEVER EVER EVER.

Because you never know if a seed of hope is lying around somewhere, just waiting.

Waiting…

#1057 What she said no. 12

Heartache can find you in the most unusual of places.

On a sunny day. In a crowded room. In the afternoon.

Within the waning throngs of people in a shopping centre food court.

I sat beside the fountain spurting up water beside me, with baby girl, who had insisted we sit right next to it, watching it fascinated.

Bites of sushi rolls sat before us. A plate of half-eaten rice. She was suddenly staring into my eyes, telling me she liked my eyebrows.

I couldn’t help but smile.

But then she said it again… this time though she touched her eyelashes. I corrected her, and as we sat there silently looking at each other, she leaned forward intently with her wide-eyed gaze, mouth upturned, and I suddenly had to mirror back her face.

“Mama! I can see myself in your eyes!”

The room was well-lit with hopes, dreams, never-giving-up and the post-midday sun that shone through the glass ceiling. I looked into her eyes, and reflective shiny things happily bounced off it.

“And honey, I can see myself in yours.” ♥♥♥♥

#923 The holiday bath

There is something that I haven’t yet indulged about our time away in Hobart over the last few days.

At one stage or another, we have ALL been sick.

Hubbie was the first. Or should I say, his nasally symptoms and hoarse throat, followed him interstate and over-seas.

Baby girl was second. On the day we were planning to go to the MONA museum, she began showing symptoms of an unwell state. Not eating. Lying down. Looking sleepy.

All of this right after waking up. This was not normal for her.

And though she was determined to jump onto the ferry, her symptoms overwhelmed her, and after falling asleep on a lounge at a MONA café after we walked all over the place, she then crashed even harder on the couch back at our accommodation.

I copped it today.

Or should I say, I progressed today. Because I have had the same annoying cough, incessantly beating its way up into my throat passages and forcing itself up, scratching my insides and thudding my lungs in the process, for about 3 weeks now.

I woke feeling weak, my throat was worse, and I felt absolutely wrecked and emotional.

It’s no surprise that we have all been sick, or been more worse off at one time or another, during this holiday out of all times.

We haven’t stopped. You know that phrase, you need a holiday from your holiday? That is totally US. Because we’re just go-go-go. We’re taking it all in, trying to sight-see and experience and involve ourselves in as much as Hobart and its surrounds has to offer.

All at the expense of our health. Because we have not had a chance to breathe.

Today we still went out and did things… but there was a distinct period in the late afternoon where we were just hanging out at our rental abode. We had deliberately cleared the schedule for this time, because it was needed, as much as the sight-seeing and walking and tours and driving and scenic lookouts were needed.

And then, after I cleared it with the boss –

I decided, I needed a bath.

The boss being, baby girl of course. I had to let her know where I was disappearing off to, because God help me if she didn’t know, she would walk around the place yelling “Mama!” and any serene water spell would be immediately disturbed and broken.

I put on my pouty lips and sad face when she first joked with me that I was not allowed to go. She wanted me, all to herself. I play-pretend cried, and suddenly my wish was granted.

I headed into the bathroom, filling up the water in the bathtub, at 4:30pm.

When I sat in the bath, I was just about submerged. I relaxed as the water enveloped me, tried to settle my mind, my thoughts, and my weary spirit, and breathed…

Hold on. It wasn’t at the perfect optimum temperature. I turned only the hot faucet on, watching the water trickle out slowly for a few more minutes.

I lay there all content and steamed up afterwards. Ahh, that’s better. Submerged in the extra heat of the water, I felt my skin tingling and blistering from the temperature, knowing that small clusters of red were forming all over my skin, creating the large framework of lobster that I endeavoured to look like every time I exited out of any shower/bath.

Because if I ain’t hot, well the shower/bath ain’t worth it.

Finally I was able to relax more. The bubbles which had been so in abundance when I first set in, dispersed into puddles of flat foam, swimming easily around the bath.

I closed my mind.

Drip drip drip.

The tap wasn’t turned off all the way, and the dropping of water interrupted my thoughts for only a moment.

My mind went to the past day, to where we were eating that night, to the next day, to our bird back at home… things I had to do, whether or not baby girl should go back to kinder on Monday… but at some point these rational thoughts ceased, replaced instead by things I had heard and seen in the last few days, street names and places, with characters I did not know, and it was all flowing together in swift disconnected cohesion, though none of it was actual reality.

My body, stilled.

I was starting to very lightly dream.

Drip drip drip.

The dripping of the tap brought me back to the present. I was here in this foreign bathtub, in another person’s bathroom, with sounds of Hubbie and baby girl floating on through from the rooms above me, while I lay there in the heat of the water, drifting away, in both physical and mental form.

I allowed my eyes to rest a few more times, but as the water began to cool, my eyes began to open more frequently. My body was now hot, the kind of hot that makes you all hazy and sleepy and cloudy in the head. I lay for ages, thinking how well they were doing without bothering me, until I heard Hubbie’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Then there was a knock on the door.

Since I had no time on me, I had asked him to tell me when 30 minutes was up. In fact, it was 5:20 – he had let me go way over.

I knew I had married him for a reason.

I was grateful for the time spent just being this afternoon. I was grateful that Hubbie had been kept busy with his extensive folk music collection online, and I was grateful that baby girl had been busy watching dolls on youtube.

Both of their ‘busy’s had allowed me to do NOTHING AT ALL. And it was exactly what the holiday ordered.

But the weird thing was, I could have done the exact same thing at home… and yet I had to fly 720 kilometres, just to be reminded of that fact.

Now I hope, I have reminded you too 🙂

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Photo by Holger Link on Unsplash