Tag Archives: acceptance

great expectations

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I’m really starting to wonder if maybe it’s me. I seem to have fallen out with a friend, two estate agents, our conveyancing attorney, our immigration agent and our local bank manager. Most of them because they just don’t seem to do what they say they’re going to. Maybe it’s my tone? B suggested that whilst he absolutely agrees with the content of my oh so efficiently worded emails, he just wonders if maybe the quite short sentences which clearly signal my irritation, the clipped I would appreciate your response at your earliest convenience and my obvious exclusion of kind regards, is maybe not the way to go. He says it very gently because I know he can feel the menopausal embers just waiting for something to ignite them. Damn. Is it me? The thing is though, despite my slight, ahem, volatility I do struggle with people who don’t do what they say they’re going to do. Maybe my expectations are too high. But then really how can they be when I’m only expecting people to do what they say they’re going to do. And I know life intervenes and often despite our best intentions we can’t do the things we said we would.  But then I just wish people would own that. Would say that. And wouldn’t try to duck and dive. And make excuses. And lay blame. And if they do that I promise I’ll work on my tone. I will. Or am I maybe expecting too much again?

three hundred and seven

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Today has been a beautiful gift, a gentle day, lovely bonding moments with Kate, a delicious catch up nap, an afternoon on the couch with a new book and especially a call from the sellers agent very keen to do what is necessary to resurrect our contract on the house. So not only am I grateful for a perfect day after the night before, but also for a husband who is always right.

roar

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My friends and I have often discussed moms and their kids. Throughout the years.  As in lionesses and their cubs.  And the one thing we have all always recognised is that the one thing that you can never ever do is criticise another child’s behaviour. Even if you believe it’s warranted. And I believe that. I can say my princess is damn cheeky, but if you say it I dare say my lioness hackles will rise. So I get it. And then there’s the behaviour itself and what we find acceptable in our kids. And in others. Or not. And here we all differ. But one thing I find very hard to stand by and not respond to is ganging up, bitchiness, meanness. Unkindness. And I don’t care who is doing it. Two against one. Even if the intention is not to hurt as much as it sadly does. Not in my own home and not out in the world. And I’ve seen my own daughter have a hand in someone’s pain, in our home. And maybe not really knowing exactly how unkind her seemingly innocent disregard of another was. But I made damn sure she understood. As a mother should. Because this lioness protects all cubs not just her own. I simply cannot tolerate unkindness in my midst. Ever. And while I can’t fix the whole world I can speak up when it happens in my little world. And yes, to my cubs. Consequences be damned.

respect

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Yesterday was a good day. A day filled with much laughter, far too many margheritas and good honest fun with lovely and at times delightfully mad friends. But a day that also left me quietly deflated. I saw so many sad women looking for happiness, in what was obvious to all but themselves, the wrong places. Beautiful successful women sadly clearly not realising quite how innately beautiful they are by selling themselves short. Women so desperately and so sadly needing reassurance they’ll take it no matter where it comes from. You all know how much I love women, how much respect I have for our inner strength, how deeply capable I believe we all are. How much I know we all care. But you also know how sad it makes me when women let each other down. And that I believe it’s usually due to fear, fear of not being good enough, fear of being left out, fear of being ignored, fear of being alone, fear of not being loved. But what makes me the saddest of all, is seeing women letting themselves down. I wish every woman could know her worth. And know that it’s not to be found in a bottle or with someone else’s husband or by accepting dismissive or disrespectful treatment by others. I wish all women the respect they so dearly deserve, the only respect that really matters. Their self respect.

two hundred and seventy seven

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18 October. I am spoilt. Most of us are. And I have embraced change. I have. I just don’t do windows. I love saying that. There really is nothing I wouldn’t do but windows. Okay and ironing. So today I’m grateful for crystal clean windows. And not just the concept, but the company. I am grateful for Crystal Clean Windows today because they made my windows crystal clean. I love that. So obvious its perfect. A bit like The Cleana. I digress again. So I am grateful I can see clearly now. So what if it’s only a bi annual thing. I always was far too anal anyway.

fuck yeah

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I woke up with a feeling of anticipation today. And I know why. Because today feels like the day I finally start to take my power back. I had my last Zoladex implant today. I have had one every three months for the last nearly five years. This keeps me in menopause, which is essential for the aromatase inhibitor, Femara I take every night and have for nearly five years. My cancer was oestrogen receptive, so all production needs to be suppressed and blocked. I have three more months of Femara and then nothing. Nothing. Then I will become me again. A different me, but a me free of anything but what should be. I can’t wait. I am in awe of my doctors and of the courage I have gained through the efforts of others. I was just too fearful to go it alone. I together with my doctors and my family chose a course of action. A course of action me and my family needed me to take. To do everything I could to make sure I was here January 2013. The ultimate goal. Being here 5 years after chemo. Then we hit the down curve in the bell curve of efficacy of treatment. So no more. I am excited. Especially to discover what the medication has masked. Because I am different. Everything changed the day I was diagnosed and will never be the same again. In many ways it is better, way better, but in other ways not. I feel I’ve also let my cancer control me the last five years. I have been in varying stages of disease, surgery, treatment and recovery. But I know it’s also been a process of acceptance. And growth. Only now can I start to feel a frisson of a personal victory. I am seeing that whilst it occupied a lot of me, and changed me, it hasn’t defined me. I willingly handed me over for a bit. Now I’m ready to reclaim me. But I am proud of how I fought for my life. And I’ll do it again if I have to. So for now, all I can say is yay me.

vanity

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I am trying not to be self absorbed. Surrounded by all the beauty here we all do pale by comparison. But I have become obsessed with my face. The bugger with beautiful photography is you can’t escape yourself. The reality of you. And especially with B. Always with a camera, a lingering loving camera. Not so much. I look, and try as I might to focus on the entire shot, my gaze finally settles on me and how I look.  Everyone does it, and lies if they say they don’t. And then invariably never mind how gorgeous the view is if we look crap, the shot is deleted. I see it with my girls too. A gorgeous pic of Queenstown, but the first thing they look at is themselves. Okay, I admit, it is more a girl thing but still. I so wish I could lead by example but oh my word, my face has suddenly collapsed. It feels like it happened the past month. I have become completely obsessed by it. By the lines and furrows down the side of my mouth. Those ones that make you look like a puppet. I’m suddenly a little bit less dismissive of major intervention. Growing old gracefully, accepting the beauty of age and wisdom and experience etched in deep grooves on your face? Sounds wonderful and noble and true and no doubt I will get there because ultimately I do believe it. But right now there is nothing beautiful about seeing my granny’s mouth on my face. Especially when I feel twenty nine. Max. Shit. So, whilst surrounded by heaven, I have become a little obsessed by my face. Damn photography. I was loving the illusion. Less so Kate and Jem tickling my wattle. Very funny girls. Leave mom alone, she’s having a moment.

lost

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I sobbed this morning. Poor B, sitting in Sydney, could hardly hear the words between the gulps. And I have no real idea why. I’m feeling anxious. Not sleeping well. A little out of control and not in a good way. Very emotional. Very demotivated. And to be honest a little lost. I sat on my bench, regrouped a bit, got a little perspective and carried on. And that’s just life. Its not always a bed of roses, even when it is. I know how much I have, how much I’ve learnt and gained, and I am so filled with gratitude for everything and everyone in my life, but today I got lost in all I’ve lost. It frightened me how easy it is to do. But I had to write my grateful for yesterday. I had read about how a gratitude practice can open your heart and rewire your brain. It does. It really does.

two hundred and thirty nine

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I am grateful for that moment today after I had emptied my bag three times to find my car keys, retraced my steps mentally trying to figure where I’d left them, planned how best to physically do it, lost my breath as the reality hit home that I had really lost my keys somewhere, that I remembered my car was at the car wash and they had my keys. And that was why I was having a coffee because I was too early to fetch the car. I am hopeless. The up side is the wonderful feeling I get when I do finally remember. That moment for which I am so very grateful. It’s like playing a secret game with myself. But I know one day it will elude me. So today I really am grateful for those aha moments. How wonderful they are.