Tag Archives: lianne cawood

dare

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I dare you. If you knew me when I was younger you would know that was all it took to make me do things I probably shouldn’t have. That’s the reason I hold the dubious honour of doing a bungee jump at the Rand Easter Show. Not at some fabulous waterfall, or bridge or river …. over a slab of concrete. At a tacky annual agricultural and exhibition show. And I really shouldn’t mention the car my friends and I borrowed and crashed at 15. The car belonging to my friend’s father. That I drove into a restaurant wall. And only because the boys in class said we’d never dare. I realised today that those three words still do it for me.  Sneaky B took this of me this am. And no I’m not meditating Jo. Some of you won’t get the humour, but those who shared a boardroom table with me, you will. And those of you who like me, until I came to Australia, have never ever cleaned your own kitchen floor on your hands and knees, you will. Those of you who know I value honesty above most things, but still seem to need to keep up appearances, you will.  B never thought I’d share this. Not exactly a good look. The I dare you was implied. Damn I am a sucker.  But, you should see my floor.

twenty four

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What an unexpected treat. A cuddle from a tiny bub. I am grateful that it was me little Yumi chose to fall asleep on. I am grateful I had a moment to spare. The feeling of that little body relaxing, getting heavier and heavier. Pure bliss. For me. It reminded me of when Kate and Jem were little bubs. I am grateful I was blessed to be a mom. To be their mom. Or mum.

liar

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I lied to my sister in law and best friend yesterday. Or actually maybe I lied to myself. If letting others yourself included believe you’ve got it sorted is a lie, that is. I lied that I was okay with not working.  I lied that being available to my girls made up for my loss of self, of self worth and independence. I lied by making it sound like when Jem told me how much it meant to her to have me just there, that was all I needed. I lied, because that isn’t all I need. I wish it was. I need more. But I need more to feed that place inside me that for some reason feels not quite good enough. Not for mental stimulation. I am stimulated, by my reading, my learnings, my friends, my lessons, by B and through B, by my daughters, by my teachers. It’s that damn need for acknowledgement. For validation. And is much more than just financial. I thought I was over the woman at the dinner party who writes you off on hearing you no longer work. Who turns to someone else, who she believes has more to offer.  Even though she has no idea of who you are, who you were and where you’ve been. I no longer introduce myself as I used to be yadda yadda. So, there is progress. I am ok with who I am. But, I can’t lie anymore. I can’t pretend it doesn’t still make my toes curl. The disdain that is.  I realised today thinking about my conversation with Lynn that I have been lying to myself.  I remembered how I felt  a couple of nights ago, when a well meaning working acquaintance, or at least I think she was well meaning, asked that question. That bloody question. So, what have you been doing with yourself? Fuck. I felt myself panic. Shit, what have I been doing. So much but nothing at all. Nothing that anyone values. (But actually the only ones that matter do) Fuck fuck fuck. Who am I, what am I, what is this all about, what was it all about, is this all that there is, is it all over for me. It all came back. Then, I breathed. Truly. And smiled and said. I’ve been existing. I did. She was happy with that answer. Lynn, soon I will be too. But I lied, I’m not there yet.

twenty three

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Today I am grateful for a smile. From Sandy. The beautiful calm presence that makes my coffee most mornings. No matter how grumpy I am, she always lifts me with her smile. And no matter how grumpy she might be, she always has time for a smile. And she always greets me by my name. And she makes my coffee exactly how I like it. Without me having to say a word.

twenty two

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I was so grateful for our lovely cool light white open apartment today. The crisp cool gently air-conditioned interior was such a relief every time I entered, leaving behind the hot heavy hot humid hot hot air. So spoilt, but truly grateful.

honest

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This was my card from B. The small print says…But I really love you all of the time. Happy Birthday. Me. X. I won’t pretend it didn’t piss me off at first. It did. But actually, it was the perfect card. We have both been pissing each other off the last couple of days, just normal couple crap. And it is normal. To have crap I mean. This is the world we live in. Not in the other world that many only share. The world that makes you look at your normal relationship filled with good and crap and wonder what’s wrong with you. Why can’t you be so in love and nauseatingly happy all the time too. Nothing is wrong with you. As long as you are honest. So, if any of you have felt envious of B and I because we have the most fabulous of relationships. Don’t. We don’t and I honestly don’t believe they exist. Not if you are truly honest with yourselves and the real world. But, if you want to envy our honesty. You can. Because of that I am proud. It is what it is. Life is what it is. I wish people would just stop pretending. So, I love my card. It is honest.  A schmaltzy we are so fabulous aren’t we and you are the best person on the planet card, would not have been.  I don’t like B some of the time either, but I do love him, yes, all of the time.

twenty one

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I am overwhelmed today. By B, by Kate and Jem, by my wonderful family near and far, by my friends, by the absolutely exquisite day today, simply by it all. I am so grateful that today I turned 46 yet I felt like a kid in a candy store. Overwhelmed by the beauty that surrounds me. (And yes that does include my new MacBook Air).

twenty

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I am grateful today for lazy saturday mornings. My bed, a cup of coffee and vanity fair. Bliss. I love the fact that we all love pj days … in fact Jem and I had lunch in our pj’s today. I am grateful that we can just stop. Even if just for a morning.

time

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A friend of mine who has only just started the journey we have been on for the past three years and eight months (I’ve finally stopped counting the days, hours, minutes and seconds) is struggling. She knows why it is right to be here away from family, friends and the familiar. So many of the same fucked up reasons we all share. I tried to reassure her that it does get better, that change is essential for growth, that her girls will love her for the resilience she is instilling in them without even realising it, that people who matter will always be there, and those that don’t will disappear, which will make it even easier to be here. And not there. But to be honest, the only thing that makes it get better, is the only thing she doesn’t have yet. Time. Time brings new shared experiences. Time enables you to find the friends who get you. Time makes you realise you don’t have to be polite anymore to be accepted. Those that matter will get you, even if like me, you have a potty mouth (the best birthday card ever, Susie, reminded me of the card the advertising agency I worked for did for me when I was going on maternity leave to have Katie … the headline was “Fuck, my mother’s in advertising!” Yip, I’ve always had a potty mouth). Time makes you realise things might not be the same here as at home, but often they can be better. You can be better. So, my friend, hang in, keep your heart open, but your eyes too, take one step at a time, don’t look back and you too will find friends that get you, here. The new you, ready for the adventure of the unknown.

nineteen

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Today I am so grateful for tradition. The tradition of breakfast with friends for my birthday. I am grateful for it because tradition implies history. And shared history makes me feel part of this new life. But I am especially grateful because finally after nearly four years, I realised I am no longer holding my breath.