Tag Archives: lianne cawood

thin

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11

Just when I’m sitting back smugly looking at how far I think I have come, and not only geographically, I come down to earth with a bump. What is it with the fact that no matter how much I feel I have achieved, how much wiser I am, it all goes out the window momentarily over something so trivial. This morning I fought with everyone. Jem because I felt she hadn’t told me everything about when some schoolwork was due, Kate because I had to tell her three times to clean her bathroom, and B, because I felt he undermined me while I was so justifiably going off at the girls for such unforgivable acts. The truth is it wasn’t about any of that at all, it was about the fact that I gained 1kg. To put it in context I am consistently 7kg heavier than I was comfortable being previously due to a cocktail of menopause, femara, zoladex and lexapro. And I have made peace with that. And with the fact that all the damn exercise in the world I do, just keeps the creep at bay.  Or so I thought. What a brat I became today. Why does it matter so much. I used to say I was happiest when I was thin and hungry. And I was. And unhealthy. Then I grew up. Yeah. Now I’m neither. But I am happy. And healthy. So, how can 1kg matter so much? How can it derail me like that? And I know, as do we all, that how you feel inside is what matters, that I am healthy, that I am fit, that my current problems are golden, that it’s not about how you look but how you behave. I have so much to be grateful for. Am I really that shallow. Honestly, and I really shouldn’t admit this, given everything, if you want to make my day, tell me I look like I’ve lost weight, don’t tell me how fit or heathy or happy I am looking. But I have moved on a little, because even though I felt grumpy and frustrated this morning, I’m still having heaps of butter and peanut butter on my toast today. Because it makes me happy. And I know deep down, being happy matters more to me than being thin. Deep deep down.

forty six

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I am grateful for Mimie today. Mimie is my french teacher. How she puts up with me is beyond me. I miss more lessons than I go to as life seems to always intervene. And when I do go it’s like I’ve never been before. I just can’t seem to retain anything. I blame my meds, I mean it couldn’t possibly be my age. The reason I am grateful for Mimie, is not that she is such a gracious teacher but because she is just the most wonderful person to spend an hour with. I am so grateful we met. Her view on life and the world is frank, refreshing and honest. And we laugh, boy do we laugh.

my dad

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I love my dad. He is genuinely the world’s best dad. Growing up he guided us with so much love and tolerance, now that I have my own kids I am in awe of his patience. He was kind, he was firm and he was fair. He never shouted at us, but we knew when he was displeased. He treated us with utmost respect and care, so much so that we grew up in a solid, safe and kind world. He made us believe that we mattered. He always had time for us. No time, no matter how much pressure he was under, was a bad time.He loved and loves my mom, which is probably the best gift any father can give his kids. To love and respect their mother. And yes vice versa. He made us believe we were good enough to do anything we set our minds to. He never made me feel I had disappointed him. Ever. He always told me when things got too much, not to panic, because panic or not, the outcome will be the same. I was blessed to grow up in a world with my dad as my father. I still am. He’s still making me believe I can do anything. That my attitude, my will is everything. Well Dad, right back at you.

forty five

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Before we came to Noosa, I had never heard of a Pandanus Palm. I love them. The sight of a Pandanus Palm hanging off the cliff over the ocean is a sight to behold. I am grateful today that I got to walk amongst them and talk and talk and talk. I am grateful for the beauty that surrounded us. And for the fact that my friend and I can talk nonstop and still have so much to say.

sad

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B came home at 4.30am last night. I am grateful that he and I met in advertising so our lives together are punctuated by both of us keeping ridiculous hours to meet ridiculous deadlines. I am grateful because I get it. I know many of my friends never did. I think they thought I was either the most trusting or the most stupid of partners. But mostly I am grateful because he came home. I was feeling a tad miffed to be honest and then I heard about a very dear friend’s brother. Who isn’t coming home. All my love and strength goes out to his wife and two very young children and my friend for what lies ahead. Sadly, but realistically, it takes such fundamentally sad events to make me realise once again how much I have to be thankful for. And to remind me how impermanent things are. That’s not frightening, it just is. So I am grateful B is here. For now. And will continue to celebrate every single moment we have together, even when I hate him, because it will end. And because right now I am the lucky one.

forty four

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I love the movies. I especially love the movies on a weekday morning. It feels so indulgent because it was just never ever something I would do. So, today I am grateful I could go to a midweek matinee movie and not take it for granted. And feel naughty and indulged but not guilty. I am grateful for the treat. And for the momentary pause.

forty three

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I love coffee. I love the taste, I love the aroma, I love the feel of the takeaway cup in my hand, I love love the coffee moment. I love coffee. And I am so grateful that I do because it makes a blah day better. So much better.

bad day

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It’s a funny thing. And Susie, you’ll laugh at this. It’s a funny thing but the checkout girls and guys at Woolies don’t ask me how my day is anymore. Or what I’ve been doing. Or what I’ll be doing for the rest of the day. I only realised that today. Just to backtrack a bit, I had a little not big picture stuff rant a while ago, and not at the employees, but the management, who make these often very young checkout kids ask me about my day, what I did and what I’m going to do. I know it’s their job, but they don’t really care. And why should they. It’s just a job with an auto prompt.  I do believe just a smile and a how are you would do it on both parties side, unless we choose to engage further. It’s not really necessary otherwise to initiate this false banter. I feel for them and I really feel for me. We could all do without the potentially awkward moment. Today I realised they hadn’t asked me for a while. I thought yay, management have realised what a crock of shit it is. But then I noticed the lady at the checkout counter behind me was being asked. So it was just me. It’s just been me a few times then. I do engage, and smile sweetly and kindly because I do know it’s not their fault but clearly they can see it in my eyes. Don’t ask me how my day has been because I just might tell you.

forty two

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Today I am very grateful for school concerts and amateur school videos. It was fabulous to be reminded of those wonderful moments and to see Jem’s smile at the memories. There is nothing like home movie afternoons. And she really was a very cute hippo.

home

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At dinner last night a friend asked me where home was now. After nearly four years here. For all of us, here or there. I always hate those questions. I have since the day we arrived here. Are you happy. Do you miss home. The reason I hate them is because it is so hard to answer them. To be honest. To even know how you really feel, because there is so much stuff that clouds your honest assessment. How can I be happy here, even if I think I might be. Doesn’t that negate the relationships, the people I’ve left behind. How can I be happy here when they aren’t here. And if I say I’m not, what about the opportunity we’ve been given. How can we not put our best foot forward and embrace the adventure. What about all the fabulous friends who have rallied around us and supported us to find our feet here. And how can I not be happy providing a possibly firmer future for my kids. What am I teaching them if I’m always looking backwards. Where do the girls feel more at home? I answered that home for them, in fact for all of us, is where we are. And as I said it last night I realised I meant it. We are where we are meant to be. So, I guess that right now thats here. So, does that mean this is home now? Africa is in my blood and in my heart. It is the country of my birth. It is with me wherever I am. My family is in my heart and in my blood. They are with me wherever I am. I now know I don’t have be anywhere to be home. But I wondered if I had answered correctly for the girls. So I asked them. Jem said, well I was born in South Africa, but I don’t really have a home. Just as my heart cracked, she went on to say, home is where my family is. You, daddy and Kate. Kate didn’t want to answer, then said here. Here?, I said. Australia? She said, well, it’s where we live. So simple. Home truly is wherever we are. And I believe that can be anywhere now.