#1284 Lucky 7

As I drove into work on the dreaded Monash this morning, the car slowed, painfully so… for the longest time.

There was an accident. I shook my head. I was going to be late.

As I walked into work the drizzle intensified, cascading down over my face. I couldn’t help my amused smile. Thanks for the lovely send off Docklands.

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And then as I started up my computer, two programs weren’t working… I had to call IT.

Face palm.

All on my very last day of work.

It was finally HERE.

It was the weirdest sensation. I felt anxious and intensely nervous through most of the day. Things were emphasised to me at every turn… when I went up a lift “this will be my last time travelling to level 3.” When I scraped my bowl of its weetbix residue… “this will be my last dish from this kitchen.”

When I locked my locker for the last time.

When I logged off my computer for the last time.

Even going upstairs for a break with my colleagues got me over-sentimental. I in fact stopped going up for tea years ago, back when I started my morning coffee walks instead, and then there was the whole writing-at-the-desk-during-any-break thing…

I had to force myself to breathe. Pause. Reflect.

Many things made me feel better.

Firstly, this was not I, and I alone leaving. It was all of us. Our entire department and so many more. I was the second last of our team to leave, and so many had already walked my steps, felt my dis-ease, the discomfort and the bittersweet emotions at leaving.

It had happened to ALL my colleagues. My friends.

Secondly.… well change. It is inevitable. If this hadn’t happened now, we would have all been content in just going through the motions, the routine of work that we know like the back of our hand, becoming complacent in our roles and not expanding our mind and life journey with new learnings, adventures and places to see, people to meet.

There is so much to see. So many people to meet.

Memories flooded back to me as I looked around. The people I had seen come, and go. The places where secrets were shared. The darting looks and cheeky glances. The meltdowns. The showdowns. The ups, and downs.

Almost 12 years of my life.

I got my last coffee with a colleague… and today it was necessary to get dessert. Sure I had leftover cake from the weekend at home…

But it was my LAST DAY EVER. Screw that.

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It was sublime.

As I sent off a billion emails to my personal email, going through folders and deleting files here, there and everywhere, the feeling of anxiety grew.

I was deleting, and removing any remnants of me, from my locker… my desk… my entire email account. 1000s upon 1000s made their way into the graphic rubbish can on screen.

And my anxiety grew.

I was forgetting something. I met with HR. Got my papers. Went through more emails. Checked my lists… again. Went through my empty locker… again.

I had done everything I had to… and yet there was the strongest urge that I had forgotten something.

And just like that, at the acknowledgment of my lost feeling, I realised.

I felt like I was forgetting something, because a piece of me was going to remain there, even after I walked out the doors.

You can’t just flick a switch. Walk out without turning back. Expect to not have a memory lingering. Some laughter floating through the halls.

You can’t do it. Not after so long. Not after having created some of the best memories with the best people you could ask for.

You couldn’t, just, forget.

With that in mind, knowing I was going to have to leave a piece of me behind…. I walked out.

And instead of the grey morning and drizzle I had walking in with, now there was sunshine.

There was a new adventure waiting for me.

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And it’s a bit hard for me to believe now, so early… but I think it will be even better than this one.

And that’s because of my lucky number. Numbers. Because I have lots. And it’s not just 7.

😉

 

 

 

#1283 My new furry friend

I haven’t written too much about the feline addition to our family. To be honest, I am a bit hard on Mister F.

I know I am being totally unfair. At the beginning I would constantly reference him to my childhood cat… let’s call her ‘Incredible.’ Incredible was a beautiful tabby. She was smart and friendly, with a touch of cheekiness and strong foundations in dependability, and was so obedient. Oh my. She never misbehaved or did anything wrong, and easily became the favourite cat of my parents too.

She was, quite simply, Incredible. 

She wouldn’t even meow when she wanted to be let out. You would just notice her gone, and then find her by the back door waiting for someone to come along and see her.

Incredible had a strong sixth sense too. I remember a few times in my late teens when I came home, and she was sitting on the front porch step, waiting for me to walk up even though I had been in Hubbie’s (then boyfriend) car for 10 minutes, having some kind of argument.

She sat and waited patiently.

I remember another time in my early teens, when I came outside to the back step and started to cry. Something had made me very sad. And she just stayed there with me. She didn’t meow for food. She didn’t do anything to suggest she wasn’t aware of my state of being… rather the way she went silent, sitting by my side and just being there, showed to me that she knew.

She was there for me.

It was a very hard day when I realised she wasn’t eating. I immediately knew something was up. A vet visit discovered a tumour, and it had spread inside of her. She was subsequently put to sleep.

My childhood best friend of 11 and a half years was gone.

I can then be forgiven for taking so long to get another cat. 16 years in fact.

I didn’t realise how much of Incredible was still in me. How much of her I still mourned when we got Mister F.

Mister F would jump up on the island bench… repeatedly – “Mister F! How dare you! Incredible never did that!”

Mister F started scratching our couch – “Mister F! Stop it! You’re so stubborn! Incredible always listened to us!”

Mister F would not eat, shock horror, cooked chicken – “If Incredible was here, she would smash your meal! You don’t appreciate good food, pft.”

Chicken was Incredible’s favourite.

But I’ve realised I have to lay off Mister F. I have to give him space to be his own cat.

I have to give him space to be his own kind of Incredible.

Today he showed me something that twigged something deep inside of me. I had come home upset about something, and sat on the couch quite despondent… he reached his paws up to the couch, before jumping up next to me.

He didn’t just stay there though. He went further, placing his paws on my legs, as if to say “hey, I’m here.”

I pet him. Sure this cat wanted attention. But again and again he came back, resting his paws on my leg, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘there’s something here.’

Just like that day on the back step with Incredible, now I could see Mister F’s sixth sense… there was something incredible happening.

Mister F was there for me. And he got in quite close, leaning against me as I sat there, thinking.

We can’t all be Incredible. But in Mister F’s case, I think he is on his way to becoming Mister Fantastic.

#1261 Letting it all out

When was the last time you cried?

Let it ALL out?

I don’t mean a pathetic weeping. I am talking a full-fledged, soul-shaking, whole body performance that tremors with the waves of emotions like sea water crashing across the shore.

It’s obviously best done with someone you trust. Someone you love.

Even better perhaps, when you are on the phone.

You can ugly cry all you want. Screw up your eyes and let your snots hang dangerously low, let the teardrops make splatters on your pants, stain your top.

And although the beginning of such a sob session may start off as solemn, downcast, and awfully depressing… something wonderful does come out of it.

Nothing may have changed. Nothing major anyway. Buy you not only gain a different perspective from hearing someone else repeat your words, but you feel somewhat lighter too.

The load has been dispersed. Instead of one huge boulder on your back, the expression of your deepest sadness may have allowed some of that boulder to chip away, and leave instead, large stones.

And the more that you walk along, and on with life, the more likely it is that some of those large stones may slowly start to roll off…

And so on.

Nothing changes overnight… But it is the knowledge of someone lending an ear, while you also let loose, allowing the internal waterfall to pour out, that actually makes all the difference.

#1223 A different love

What am I meant to do when no one else is home except for my furry friend Mister F, and I will be spending the next hour or so whipping up a lasagna?

Why, put on music of course. LOUD music.

It’s the only way to really listen to any kind of music, especially when you are alone… whether it is upbeat and rocking, or mellow and wispy.

It is the latter type of category that had me turning up the stereo several times today. I had Queen’s “Night at the Opera” on, and decided to finally give a whirl to that special bonus cd, you know the ones all record companies love to flog when they re-release a classic album?

Well I put it on. 6 songs, most of them portions of songs from their Opera album, acapella… then one I had never heard, and 2 live versions…

The very last live song, was their 1979 live South American recording of Love of My Life.

Oh wow. Just, WOW. I felt like they were singing in my very own backyard, crowd included, so close up and personal it felt and sounded as Queens adoring fans sang the words back to them.

It is a heart-breakingly beautiful song. Devastating, yet stunning.

And during that listen, as I sang along to Freddie while stirring my béchamel sauce, I fell in love with it all over again.

I had never fallen out of love though. ♥

Have a listen (poor video but that doesn’t affect the audio)… it needs to be LOUD. Enjoy 🙂

#1214 The cycle of work and life

In this last month or so at work, we wait with nervous anticipation at the sole mercy and direction of management, as to when it will be our last day.

EVER.

Our job responsibilities have started migrating interstate – people will be starting to do our job, over there, in a number of days.

The countdown is on.

And today a work colleague observed something. She commented how our workload was reducing slowly, and in no time it would be the very small workload we used to have back in the day, when we first walked through those doors, many years ago.

A small workload, minuscule, compared to our job today. Weirdly, we observed that as we are nearing the end of our work days, we are coming full circle.

It isn’t just the workload though. I realised that not only were we going back in time with how much (or should I say, how little) we were meant to be doing… but we were also going back about a decade, to the same group of people.

Because those who had come after me, were already gone. Going. They had taken early leave… found another job… or left conveniently right when all of this craziness began.

Leaving me, and the original crew.
Those who were there when I arrived. Those who came shortly after. Those who were in other departments, but ended up joining ours over time.

It was going back, to the good ol’ days.

And although I share some special friendships with those who have already left… there is something nostalgic about walking out of those doors for the last time, alongside those you walked in with.

I know, it will be hard.

I say that I can’t wait to turn my back on the Docklands Winter and never have to work within its windy grasp again… but on that last shift, I will pause, and look at the water shimmering amidst boats in the morning dawn, and reflect.

I know I can’t wait to never have to set my alarm again for the insane hour of 5am… but come Wednesdays, and I’ll be wondering where all my colleagues are.

And I know I can’t wait to move on, and go onto bigger and better things… because I know they are waiting for me…

But it’ll be terribly bittersweet. I have been there for over 11 years. About a third of my life. And the friendships I’ve made, the drunk stories from Christmas parties I can tell, the gossip I’ve been privy to, the big news items I broke, the laughter, emails, in-jokes, work lingo, industry speak, insider knowledge, hour long d&ms, and the 45,721 coffee runs I’ve walked…

I know I will cry. People might put on a show and act like they don’t care.
But I do. The people and the memories will be with me always.

And so, it makes sense that at the end of the production line, we are slowly heading back, to day 1.

And with all that said… I don’t mind if they drag this out, just a little longer.

I will stay. I will wait.

#1183 My Thank You on Mother’s Day

The day started with baby girl and I in bed.

It ended with baby girl and I in bed.

The beds were different.

And much of the in-between, was frustrating and crap.

Yes. I know it was Mother’s Day.

I have one. I am one. I have the best ones, around me.

But things have just been too hard lately.

Too frustrating. Too sad. I got mad/frustrated/sad umpteen billion times today. I cried about the same amount, and said “you are f&%king kidding me” another 57 times.

There was definitely good in the day. I had really great moments, with my whole family, and tried to pay the most amount of gratitude and appreciation to my own Mum, with all she has done for me and my family in my life…

While still having, this really crappy day.

The morning started off with baby girl coming upstairs to where I was sleeping. Hubbie had already gotten up. I had instructed her clearly yesterday, several times, “do not wake me up early tomorrow, I am sleeping in… it is Mother’s day.”

She came up, and coming over to my side of the bed, tapped my shoulder (I was pretending to still be asleep) and whispered “Mama… I just wanted to wish you a Happy Mother’s Day…” before placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

She climbed into bed with me, and it was now 8:50am. I told her to sleep. Of course we didn’t sleep.

We found ourselves soon sitting up in bed and chatting. And that was my lovely start to the day. ♥♥

Because this is a gratitude journal, I will just say –

<INSERT CRAPPY PARTS OF THE DAY HERE>

And come back to the end of the day. This time, her bed. We had literally just had an argument within the last half hour. She knew, that I was pissed. I sat on the bed as she snuggled inside the covers, but sat up when she saw my face.

I was just staring at her.

“Mama… what you wanna say?”

I sighed.

“I want to say… that no matter what happened today, Mummy has a very big thing to tell you.”

“What?”

Tears started welling up, and she was probably thinking I was going to lose it for the 1001th time that day.

“I want to thank you soooo much, for making me a Mummy.”

We hugged, and suddenly, she was crying too. She was crying because I was crying. We were both there crying and I was telling her it’s okay, and then Hubbie heard us and wanted to join the party, entering and giving us a big bear hug as we sat there, enveloped in a hug and crying into each other’s arms, but of course he was not crying, he was LAUGHING.

Typical Dad.

And that is it. If only life were as simple as the good moments, right?

But life cannot be simply reduced to just the best and happiest moments of our day.

But as I try again and again here, they can be something we try our best to focus on, the most. ♥♥♥♥

#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…