Wednesday, September 20, 2017

The Sands of Time

I am a creature of habit. Change has become a foreign concept. I like to know where I stand, where I am going and I resist turning in difficult directions. 

Yet this year as I watch the seasons come and go, change has been etched on the horizon. It is edging ever closer to me and I am finally allowing it a place in my home. 




The beach is my favourite place. Mornings I walk along the passage watching the changes evolve. Man-made changes as dozers reposition the sand and push it this way and that. Natural changes as the tidal ebb and flow push that sand back in the opposite direction.  

Each Friday we take a stroll up the beach, watching as tide and time press and mould the sand. Nothing remains stagnant for long.  

Change is inevitable. 



These past few years have seen major changes in the flow of our lives. Most changes were for the better and while I may have resisted initially - like the landscape of a beach, the changes occurred anyway.

Time is a fickle thing. Time is a relentless march forward. There is no stopping. Or turning back. There is only onward.

So much time has passed since I connected with this space, I considered whining about it. Or closing it down for good. Yet a spark niggled, a nagging voice in my head grew louder and I wondered if it was possible to adjust my sails and begin a new voyage.

The beauty of change is possibility.

Anything is possible if you allow yourself to be open to it.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

The truth of an underwhelmed would be writer

The past few years I have written so many words. Between my personal journals and my creative writing pursuits I have probably logged in excess of 100K, 200K words. Serious!

Back in 2014 I WON NaNoWriMo. I may have already mentioned this fact several times. I won't lie I was super proud of this achievement.

As for the story - well I spent 28 days writing a fairly (in my opinion: mediocre) mystery type fantasy. It began strongly, I fell in love with my lead characters as they played out a mini secondary love story on the sidelines. Then. STOP! The story came to a screaming halt. Brakes squealing, burnt rubber drifting across the air. 50,000 words later, I wrote myself to the middle section and found I was out of my depth.

A change of scenery - heck I changed the laws of the universe, there were a whole cast of NEW characters who were neither human nor beast. I floundered. I kept making notations, return to this section and add this, this and this! Go there and add that. "what were you THINKING"

My neat little mystery became a horror film.

{the horror mainly the RED pen that I used to correct my many meanderings of words}

While I did have the very best intentions to actually plan the story and draft it, the sheer volume of words buried me. I then began to question every single word I hand wrote and wondered if I simply wasted the entire month?

 What was I thinking trying to write a fantasy when I don't even particularly like reading fantasy!

So I filed it. One day I will see if I can de-frankenstein it &/or restructure it to a small series.

What I realised is I set out to do what I planned to do - I wrote 50,000 words in 30 28 days. I reached NaNo stardom. The winners circle was heady!

During October 2016... the whispers NaNo, NaNo, NaNo niggled at me. I dreamt of pens scrawling across blank pages. I envisaged holding the trophy high at the end "I would like to thank.."
I went out and purchased new notebooks and new pens. Internally I groaned at myself. Writing like a crazy woman was just plain... crazy.

I then planned. Sat. Twiddled my thumbs and twirled my pen. Wracked my brain.

Until I came to the conclusion I had ZERO clue what I would write about.

November 1st arrived... 27 days later (YES 27!) I finished a story. 50,000 words. Not including THE END. Which I also wrote. You see this time I actually wrote the beginning, the middle and the end. Then realised I have a skeleton with no muscles. Or blood. Or flesh. Eh. That is another entry for another day in the future!

Why am I musing about these past goals today? Well CampNaNo begins on April 1st. Of course I signed up immediately. Count me in. Take my money already.

Hold up. What will I write?

And that folks - is the end of this little tale. Now you may have a small iota of how I have been feeling since my ill-fated win of 2014. It is frustrating. Yet it would appear not so frustrating that I am willing to begin writing ANOTHER story. Perhaps one day I will actually look at what I have written and look at some kind of publishing. Or perhaps they will languish until some long lost relative discovers them on some weird little USB stick and finds an ancient Mac Computer and begins reading my crazy pipe dreams.  

Saturday, January 28, 2017

The one where she returns


A goal, a friendly challenge and a desire to re-connect has me once again opening the draft page of this blog and attempting to write a welcome back post. 

I am back. 

Hi! Did you miss me? 

How do I fill in a SIX month absence. 

This post is attempt number 226 (well not really, that number is a slight over-exaggeration) However many drafts do lie discarded, never to see the light of day even though the words make my heart sing they are not the words I need to record forever. 

So where do you start when you have allowed your favourite corner of the internets languish, broken, lost and abandoned. Heck you can practically see the dust bunnies if you peer close enough (nope... turns out that is just my dusty computer screen!)  

Perhaps I SHOULD NOT start with the word SO. I apologise that word is following me at the moment. I am conscious of it's overuse in my journal writing and online nattering but still it pops up... So... 

I would love to say it has been a glorious six month break. It was and it was not. 

Instead it was a time for reflection. 

I feel I have emerged from this cocoon. Change is all around me, yet as a creature of habit I resist it. I try to hide from it and then I come here to try putting it all into words and I am left deleting more than I write. Which isn't like me dammit!  

Ironically I am lost for words yet I sit here and wrote out a list of 10 potential posts. Go figure. 


Friday, July 29, 2016

Walk with Me

Last year I found myself pulled toward water. As my body slowly healed, my soul was nourished with weekly walks along the waterfront. 

Sadly 2016 kicked our butts, and changes to our weekly schedule has seen us prioritising other stuff. Our slow meanders along the waterfront stopped altogether. 

This term I decided enough was enough! No matter how exhausted we were by weeks' end, we needed a moment to let the wind mess our hair, to feel the sun on our faces and the squishy sand between our toes. On Friday's you can usually find me stuffing ice-cream into my face then taking a wandering stroll up the beach (which is actually down because technically we are walking south!) 











There are few people up this end of the Island and as we wander I can usually capture nature photos with only my child photo bombing. 

The squishy-ness of the crab balls delight us and the small one tries to jump on as many as she can, or pick up a handful without breaking them. 



I delight (and never tire) taking photos. The small pockets of water that remain long after the tide runs out. The mank smell of the stagnant water, the way the shadows fall across the small stretch. 

And of course I am photo bombed by my own shadow (who somehow thinks it might be batman!) 



My tired feet push on, leaving a gentle footprint or five hundred through the cloud of crab balls. They crumble softly beneath my feet as we walk. 


We search for shells, broken glass worn smooth by the wash of the water and collect seed pods or strange looking crab like flowers. 

The small child runs and cartwheels. She writes words with a stick and even buries treasure complete with an X marks the spot. Her face is smeared with ice-cream and she squeals with wild abandon (having been locked in class the entire day) 

Some days I wish we lived in one of the houses backing onto this stretch of water, alas we are not millionaires and I wonder if we would appreciate if it was at our doorstep. I yearn for a sea change, and then I return home and I look around me and I realise that I have everything I need and more right here. It is grand to dream a little though! 

Monday, July 25, 2016

Something changed...

April 1st was my one year anniversary of my Hysterectomy. Lets call it my hysterversary. I have struggled to find the words about how I feel about it. Some days I wonder if I should move on from it and place the entire fiasco firmly in my past & forget about, but it is also one that I want to honour because it played such a huge part in my journey.

One year on; physically there is no stopping me.

I can walk 4klms return in less than an hour without breaking a sweat (okay so I do tend to breathe a little harder on the return journey - totally blaming my sinus issues on that! And maybe my thigh muscles do begin to scream at me)

It doesn't sound like much huh?

Before my operation I could never plan on weekly exercise because the pain was too bad. The bleeding was too heavy. The fatigue enforced full days of couch rest.

Now I have a weekly walking date with a friend and the only things stopping us are:

1) really windy days where you can't feel your face

2) wussy dogs who when faced with the above mentioned wind, lie down in the grass and expect you to carry all 15kgs of them.

3) magpie season.

I am the healthiest I have EVER been and now nearly 16 months later I have zero regrets and honestly wish I did the operation sooner.

Emotionally I am cruising, I still feel as though part of me is missing (well duh) but I am no longer groping for the missing pieces. It is as though an acceptance has floated over me and I am co-exisiting with an empty room. (I can no longer use the term "empty womb" because there is no uterus)

It would appear I can joke about my situation without all the tears too.

Mentally is a little harder to get my head balanced. I still have a lot of grievances, anger at the injustice and residual pain from those long years of infertility. It has been a real struggle to move from that never ending spiral that defined the old ME to the new ME.

Over the past few months since my Hysterversary; something changed within me. I have shed all the tears I am able to cry. I feel nothing when seeing pregnancy announcements, big beautiful pregnant tummies, newborn photos. I have accepted that our path to single child parenting was as it was meant to be; I am not happy about the way shit fell, but I am no longer grief stricken. I have stepped into the Acceptance phase of my journey of grief and that is okay. I know within I do have a longer journey ahead of healing fully, but I am grateful to be exactly where I am in this journey for today.

Tomorrow may well be a different story.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Obscure Nothings

It has been sometime since I graced this blog with my presence. Nearly two months and no words to be found. If I am completely honest with myself I considered not returning.

I am plodding through life. Slow and steady, yet I jump from project to project with wild abandon - I feel as though all those months last year when I strived to find "me" amongst the health crap are now in overdrive - I am everywhere but nowhere.

Each month I list my intentions and then plonk down on my bum watching the distant settling dust from the bandwagon that banished me from its side. Of course my banishment comes from a shiny *NEW* project that just needs my attention. Who said I shouldn't have 15 current journals on the go (sadly... this is the truth!)

And then I was still. Nestled between each new shiny thread of new projects was a sense of being. Of living in the moment and allowing myself to flow with each new endeavour.

Today I am sick. Last week I told my hubby that since my op I have never felt so darn well. He agreed and said the past year has been the best I've ever been.  We jinxed it. I succumbed to man flu. I've been sick since Friday! Of course I am milking it.

I have attempted reading the Artists Way and trialled the all important Morning Pages. I have realised a very important thing about myself - I am not a Morning Person. Therefore my morning PAGE (singular - none of this plural 3x A4 size pages first thing every morning) is usually a mishmash of nothings (a little like this blog post) somewhere between a brain dump and five minutes of Free Writing. While it helps to siphon the excess off my head, I just cannot get my brain or hand working before coffee and as a fallout I've averaging 4 mornings in a row before missing 5 days. It is really most frustrating and I am contemplating dropping it as a bad joke.

Of course I am not too disheartened because today's bright idea was to commence a 365 creative writing exercise.... because my track record at attempting anything of a daily nature seems to fail after 3 - 4 days was not enough to deter me... I'm sticking to pocket Moleskine Cashiers since I just happened to have several lying around. I can do this right? Totally.

I'm sure I will awaken from my man-flu sometime in the next week and will wonder what on earth possessed me to think I could manage a 365. Time will tell 'eh?


Thursday, March 17, 2016

The Gentle Eddying

Life continues to flow around me. At the start of this week as I opened my eyes to a new week and saw all that I still needed to do. I felt stuck. Stagnant.

Then I pulled up my big girls panties and reached for coffee number three of the morning (bad, bad habit of mine, but I have zero other vices) and I started writing.

I have currently abandoned all pretence of looking like I have my shit together. I don't.

Instead I am letting the tide carry me and I am going with the flow because I am tired of swimming against it.

Some good has come of surviving the past week. We have a backyard that is now dirt with teeny tiny grass shoots. I have replanted my ugly hibiscus that throws out the most glorious flowers. I have a NEW dishwasher. AND a new OVEN!

After an entire day decluttering, I can see the floor of my daughters toy room again (FIVE bags + 2 boxes to the op shop, 3 overflowing bins! YAY ME!) and for the first time in a very long while, my five minutes of free writing is free of whining about how I need to do and be everything.

Now to get through the final week of school.