Journey of Perfection

Laying in bed one night I had an epiphany. All of my best thinking seems to be done in bed at night.  Much to my desire to sleep's disgust.  I have taken to writing my thoughts down in a notebook or typing them into the notes section on my Iphone.  It certainly makes for better sleep and I remember my awesome ideas the next morning. 
 

Every night when I go to bed, I have plans to conquer the world the next day.  Suffice to say that I am definitely a night owl and am at my best and horribly worst in the late hours of the night.  I do my best writing and thinking after 10pm.  It's not always positive and it's not always productive.  Which is why I feel the need to write things down.  I need to get them out of my head.
 

The epiphany I had laying in bed one night was about perfection.  Perfection is something I think about a lot.  It's a source of guilt for me, as I am sure it is for a lot of people.  Always striving for that elusive perfection.  Then I got to thinking, when you get to the state of perfection..what then?  What comes when you reach the peak?
 

Then it hit me. We shouldn't be striving for perfection, we should be striving to learn from our journey. Perfection means that we have reached our destination, we stop moving.  Imagine going through life and not learning because well you think you have learnt all there is to learn.  Reaching perfection means that we don't feel the need to strive anymore.  It is kind of an anti climax.  Perfection is never really what we envision it to be. 
 

I hope that I never reach perfection. That I am never to the point where I feel there is nothing new to learn.  I hope that I will always be hungry for new knowledge. I hope that I will always be asking questions, looking for the information to satisfy the desire to learn.  I hope that it is something that we don't lose as each generation passes.  With so much at our fingertips now, I hope that it's not taken for granted. 
 

When are you at your best? Do you feel the hunger to continue to learn?

Sanity Saviour

Depression and other Mental Illnesses can zap you of any energy or motivation you have.  Sometimes the medications used to treat these can have an even worse effect. I have never made it a secret that I don't like housework. So I wanted to share with you what I do to make things easier each day. Things that make things run a little smoothly.
 

1. A lot of people fold their washing as they take it off the line, I take it one step further.  I take the clothes off the line in order of whose clothes they are.  Then when I come inside, all of the clothes are already in piles of whose room they belong in, meaning that I put them away straight away.  It takes a bit longer out at the line...but then again it's quicker than a giant Mt Washmore.
 

2. Devil Spawn has a bath for at least 30 minutes every night. I use this time to talk to Papa Devil on the phone. Also when I'm up to it, I use the time to tidy away Devil Spawns toys and do the washing up. He's happy and I get some quiet time. It's a win/win situation.
 

3. On days that I know are going to be hectic or just plain hard I make dinner in the slow cooker. It means that we get a decent dinner and there is usually left overs that I can freeze for easy dinners later.
 

4. When Devil Spawn goes to daycare, I make his lunch the night before.  I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, this means I have to do as little as possible when my brain is still foggy.
 

5.  After Devil Spawn has a bath at night, I dress him in a shirt for the next day. Then again, in the morning while still in a foggy, not really wanting to be awake daze I can leave the house at a reasonable time. At least on the days when we have to go somewhere.
 

6.  Daycare Days are my days. I do what I want, when I want it.  I don't pressure myself to do anything. I take them as my days to relax and regain myself. 
 

These are my sanity savers. They help me get through the week, the day, the hour.  I don't pretend to have all of the answers...I just do what works for me.
 

What are your sanity savers?
 

Linking up with #IBOT

Pressure to Procreate

As a woman, it's always expected that you will want to procreate.  That your one mission in life, eventually is to be a mother.  I remember in high school my friends talking about the names they had picked out for their eventual babies. I didn't feel the same and while I didn't have a life plan, kids didn't really feature in the image I saw of myself. 
 

You would think that once you are 'with child' that they pressure would stop. That society would think, 'ok she's made her contribution, we'll stop hassling her now', but that couldn't be further from the truth.  The minute you have one child, everyone is wondering when you are going to be giving them a brother or sister. Labeling you as 'cruel' if you tell them that your child will be an only child.  In fact one of the cards I received when Devil Spawn was born had the sentiment 'he's gorgeous, can't wait until you have another one'.  I had pushed this baby out a mere week earlier and the pressure had started.
 

Let's talk about what is cruel shall we, about the reality of being pregnant and unmedicated.  Hormones already do strange things to normally rational women. Add to that a Mental Illness that can't be medicated while pregnant and you have a recipe for disaster. I was, for lack of a better term, bat shit crazy while pregnant.  I would go from crying, to screaming in a matter of minutes.  Poor Devil Papa didn't know what to expect or how to handle it.  I could not bring myself to knowingly put Devil Spawn through that. 
 

I use what little motivation I have most days on Devil Spawn. I don't think that I could spread it over 2 or more children.  Am I still being cruel for being happy to stop at one child? It is cruel to realise my weakness and work with what I have? No it's not. I know my limitations and Devil Spawn will always come first.  I know that if it did happen, I would somehow make it work but I would never knowingly try for another child because society has this notion that it's 'cruel' for a child to grow up alone.
 

I say it's cruel to bring a child into an environment that can't cope with it. It's cruel to have a child not because you want one but because it's the norm. It's cruel to bring another child into a family that is already struggling.  It is not cruel to realise that you have reached your limits and that you know you can give everything you have to one child, but will struggle with two. It is not cruel if having one child means that they will have a better life, will get what little their mama can offer them at this time.  A little spread over 2 is even less. I love Devil Spawn more than I thought it was even possible to love another human being and if I had my time again I'd do it all the same.
 

How many children do you have? Do you still feel the pressure to keep popping those bubbas out?
Are you childless by choice and feel the pressure to procreate?

I kinda suck at being a housewife

I'm linking up again this week with Kirsty for 'I must confess'. This weeks prompt is 'What household chores do you hate most'. I'm really glad that Kirsty said chores because I think I would struggled to just come up with one. 
 

Washing up: Most of the time it's just Devil Spawn and I so I have to do the cooking AND the cleaning. I would be happy to cook dinner if it meant that I never ever had to wash up again.  Sadly at 3.5, Devil Spawn is a little too young to start washing up.  He loves playing in the sink but I don't think I would have any plates left afterwards!
 

Clothes washing: It really is the chore that seems never ending. There is the putting it on, hanging it out, taking it off the line and then the folding and putting away. It really should be outlawed.  Although if you have my shitty washing machine, then there is an extra step of repositioning the clothes every spin.
 

Cleaning the toilet: I actually didn't mind this up until recently. When it was generally only me using the toilet and because I remain seated for the whole experience I don't piss all over the floor.  Now that Devil Spawn is toilet trained (well as well as any male can be) the toilet is cesspool of piss and skid marks.
 

Mopping: I live in government housing.  In someone's 'wisdom' the house I life in has cream tiles and lino.  I live on a road that leads to the industrial area of town. So that means that there is fuck tonne of trucks going past at all hours of the day. That also means that my nice cream floors are a nice grey most of the time. Even 30 minutes after I mop. 
Ironing: I don't do it. Ever. I have an iron that I was given as a birthday present. Thanks Granny.  I think my Mum has used it more often than I have.  My desire to use it is so low that I don't even have an ironing board lest it be easier to use.
 

Taking the bin out: I always forget (writing this post at 11pm actually reminded me) so have to do a mad dash at ridiculous o'clock to make sure it's on the gutter reading to be emptied.  It always stinks. I usually do the mad dash while holding my breath. Did I also mention that I am scared of the dark. 
 

What are your most hated household chores?  Head on over to My Home Truths and check out everyone's confessions!

Generalisations Can be Harmful to Stigma: Psychiatric Hosptials

After BB posted the link to the article of a person's account of their friends stay in a psychiatric hospital, it got me thinking. If you would like to read the article then it can be found here.
 

I really struggled with the gross over generalisations that were made in this article.  Things that could easily be seem as scare mongering.  Imagine being a person whose psychiatrist has suggested you have some time in a psychiatric ward and you read this article. It's likely to make you shy away from even thinking of the prospect.  Being inside a psychiatric facility isn't easy, it's far from it but that is because you are working on issues that are plaguing your mind, stripping yourself bare and starting again. A psychiatric facility is sometimes the only safe place that you can do that.
 

I get the impression from the article that the writer's friend was in a private facility. Something that I have no experience with.  There were somethings in the article that did ring true for a public hospital but they were still gross generalisations.  I have seen patients who looked like walking zombies.  These patients were violent when not medicated. I have also seen these patients months down the track, once the medication is settled and they are a completely different person. They have gone from a person with delusions, suicidal behaviour, someone who couldn't function in society, to someone who you could sit down and have a conversation with. They are someone who can string words together. They are the good outcome of the psychiatric facility. 
 

Comparing the modern day facilities to One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is just the tip of the iceberg.  While some nurses and doctors really shouldn't be in the profession anymore as their passion is gone, this is no reflection on the end result that a stay in a psychiatric ward strives for.  The author saw a glimpse in a persons journey.  She had no idea how far they had come or how far they had to go. 
 

The comments of the writer about her friend being 'normal' except for needing to be in a psychiatric facility are extremely harmful for the fight of stigma removal. Everyone is 'normal' until they suffer from life event that renders them helpless.  There is no shame in needing to be hospitalised. 
 

‘Everybody hates being here. People talk about killing themselves, not because they want to die but because they want to get out of the hospital’, said my friend Julie.
 

I have no idea on the amount of times that I have been admitted but I would say it would be over 20 times.  Some of these stays have been for a month at a time.  Not once have I seen a patient express these words.  I do wonder if they have been twisted. It was a common thread amongst depressed patients that they just wanted to get 'so that they could kill themselves' and so the hospital kept them in. It was not the hospital itself causing these thoughts, but the depression. They were already suicidal before coming into hospital and saw the people who were trying to help them as one more road block to their desire to be gone from this world.
 

The author of this article has no medical training, and yet commented on the medications that her friend was allowed to take.  The Drs and Nurses in a psychiatric facility want things to run as smoothly as possible.  They are not there to make your life difficult (even though it may seem like it when you are being admitted) but to keep you and the other patients safe.  They will give you the medication that will fit your medical needs. Just because one med worked for another, does not mean that it will work for you. 
 

This whole article just did not sit right with me, especially being from the friend of a friend in a psychiatric facility's perspective.  She was an outsider looking in.  She had no idea the issues that the other women were facing, or why they looked scared and unsure.  It can be pretty daunting to go into a strange place, even without suffering a mental illness. Add to the mix anxiety and you are bound to get a few people who look like a deer caught in headlights.  It may have come across more realistic if the friend had written it.  Seeing a glimpse of a ward, during visiting hours is not the same as staying in the ward.
 

The article has really done nothing to help the stigma that people feel about the 'looney bin'.  It saddens me that in 2013, we are still facing such close minded views. Views of those people who are looking from the outside, and get to go home to their cookie cutter life at the end of the day, not realising the damage that their words have done. 

You can keep your bandwagon

The trouble with being on social media is that you see every single bandwagon there is to be jumped on.  I admit to jumping on a few, when they interest me or are something that I feel strongly about. What I don't like is being persecuted because I don't want in on the joy ride.  I chose what I want to be outraged about, I don't need your opinion forced on me.
 

The latest outrage, if my twitter feed is anything to go by, seems to be the word Cunt. Apparently as women we need to start reclaiming this word.  In simple terms the word cunt is used as a derogatory term for the female anatomy. So a feminist movement has started, saying that we need to reclaim this word from the men.  What if we never lost it in the first place?
 

It's a word, a word has as much power as you give it.  It may seem simple, but it's true.  If I call you a cunt, chances are that I kinda like you.  If I want to insult you I'm usually a little more inventive.  It's not really a socially acceptable word, so if I feel comfortable enough around you to use it, then chances are I count you as one of inner posse.
 

I very rarely use the word Cunt as a derogatory term.  When I do, I'm usually talking about a bloke and I'm not calling him a giant vagina.  My meaning is that well, he's really not a person that is worth my time. Just like reclaiming this word.  I've never lost it.  I just don't give it the power that other women do.  Cunt is certainly not the worst thing I have been called, far from it.  Maybe though that is because well I just don't see the badness of it anymore.
When I was a teenager I hated the word, thought it was vile.  Now? I just use it as an extra swearing describing word.  It kind of makes conversations seem a little more exciting. To me anyway.  The sentence 'The person was a little bit naughty so he needs to go over there, away from me', just doesn't sound the same without all of the describing words.
 

 So I won't be reclaiming the word in the name of feminism or any other cause because well I don't give the word the power that others do.  To me it's just another word.
 

What are your thoughts on the word cunt? Hate it, love it, or really couldn't care less?

Tina's Pet Peeves.

Today I have a great rant guest post from Tina of TinaGray{dot}me fame. She has a list of the things that drive her up the wall.  Make her welcome and also go check out her site for more great posts! 

A peeve or few

I remembered why it has been such a long time since my last guest post. It's a lot of pressure! Not only do I need to impress my own readers who will (hopefully) come over to read my post, but I also have the readers of Tegan's blog to impress.

If you've read just a couple posts on TGDM, you'll know that I don't tend to write ~ahem~ deep, thoughtful posts. I like to think of my blog posts as fluffy. The type that you read and click away smiling, thinking “awww” or “SO glad it's her and not me”.

So I spent valuable shower time -because it's the only place I can lock people out and have some alone time AND it's usually the place my best ideas come to me – thinking about what I was going to share with you.

And after doing some research (read: trawling through Tegan's archives) I noticed that Tegan doesn't mind a bit of a rant, so I figured I'd just word vomit a bit for your pleasure. Even though it still might seem fluffy to some. Heh.

There are a few things that have been pissing me off lately....

One... am I the only one who can't see the Coles sign on the roof of my house?... We've had neighbours (or their kids) come knocking on our door asking for toilet paper, sugar, cups of milk, money(!), and fly spray. Now don't get me wrong. I don't think there's anything wrong with borrowing a cup of sugar from the neighbour occasionally but when it's almost every week, and the same neighbours, it gets a bit tiresome. I shop for MY family, not for the neighborhood.

Two...  empty beer bottles on the chest freezer... the recycle bin Is. Right. Next. To. The. Fucking. Freezer. Literally. Move your arm like 5cm to the left, lift the lid of the bin and place your empties in there.

Three... trying to disguise sponsored posts as guest posts – don't email me and ask if you can “guest post” on my blog and be sneaky by inserting links into the post for the company you are working for. Your post is not a guest post. It is a sponsored post. If YOU get paid for every post you manage to get posted, then YOU can pay  for putting it on my blog.

Four... teenage attitude.... Good God, I could write an entire post on this right now. One of my children is about to hit thirteen and the attitude is starting to show. And the death stares. And the chatting back. I usually ignore it with a passing comment that I have three children older than her and I have already been there, done that. Oh and I was a teenager once too. I know all the tricks.

Five... back stabbing “friends”... The problem with having “online friends” is that you don't REALLY know them. Unless of course your relationship has gone beyond the interwebz and you hang out with those friends often. I try to be nice to everyone and if anyone asks for help, I will. If I can. But to be taken advantage of is really sucky. And there really are no secrets on the interwebz. Excuse me if I am not so generous with my time and knowledge any more.

Six... my Sharpies going missing... yes, it is enough for me to go psycho on you. Sure, you can borrow my things but if I need to go looking for my own things, you will be in trouble.

So there you have it. A bit of a snapshot of what goes on in my head.

Now excuse me while I tend to the kid at my door asking for a hole punch.

Bio: When she's not blogging at Tina Gray {dot} Me, she's being mum and wife, trying to create a bit of organisation in Chez Gray, playing tourist in her own town, taking lots of photos, eating sushi and playing music loud enough for her teenagers to tell her to turn it down.

The truth is better than any story

I've shared with you all before that I have been in jail before.  I was there for 2 months. Two long months.  Two months is certainly long enough to know what the routines are, what is expected and to miss the things that you take for granted in the 'outside world'.  It's this experience that makes me pissed off when I see people make flippant remarks about how 'easy' criminals have it in jail.  It's certainly easier for a lot of people than being out on the streets, but it's certainly no walk in the park.
 

I won't go into what I did to end up in jail in this post because it's all in the post I have made before.  For ease of conversation however I will say that my crime is categorised by the law as a violent crime. Even though I had no intention of hurting anyone but myself, the law likes to put everything in nice, neat little boxes.  I was refused bail and spent three days in a watch house.  I went to court once in that time.  So it is with great interest that I watch news programs talk about the 'injustice' that celebrities (if you could even call them that) receive when they are taken into custody.
 

Stripping from head to toe in front of two officers is horrible, you feel disgusting but it's a necessary part of the custody process. While some officers may take their role a little too seriously, this act is not done with the sole purpose of humiliation, despite what the sensationalised media will tell you.  It's necessary to protect both yourself and the people you will be sharing a cell with. Yes there is a high chance that you will have to share.
 

What are they looking for? Contraband.  Once again if you listen to the media then this only stretches to drugs. It's not. It's anything that can be used as a weapon, both on yourself or someone else.  It includes things like belts, shoelaces, drawstrings, any belongings on your person as well as the more obvious things such as drugs, alcohol and tobacco.  These things are not taken off you to make your life more difficult on purpose, they are there to protect you.  Everyone goes into the cell with the same thing, stand over tactics are reduced this way.
 

Another aspect that makes me roll my eyes is the idea that prisoners get 3 hot meals a day.  The meals might be hot when they leave the kitchen..an hour before they are served to the prisoners but they are definitely not hot when they are consumed.  Ever eaten pasta when it's stone cold? It's like eating glue.  Far from the five star treatment that the media would like to lead the public to believe.  If you live in the residential area, you must get a job so that you can pay for your own food and cook it.  Before you get scared about the prisoners being out amongst the public, these jobs are things like mowing the prison grounds, working in the kitchen, jobs within the jail. 
 

For a few of the prisoners that I shared a section with, them being in jail is better than their life outside.  They have somewhere to sleep, food is definitely coming and they don't have to deal with abusive family members.  It's easy to be grateful for little when you are used to nothing.  

Linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT

I must confess: I'm fucking scared of all this shit

I'm linking up with My Home Truths for I must confess this week.  I love that she gives a prompt each week or you can just go all gun-ho and confess your darkest secrets. Whatever tickles your fancy.  I'm fresh out of deep dark secrets so I decided to play along with this weeks prompt:  Fears and Phobias.
 

Emus: The damn giant flightless birds send a shiver up my spine.  When the zoo here first opened, the Australian animals were in an open enclosure that you walked through.  The kangaroo's and wallabies all laying around are cute.  The Emu, was not so much.  One trip, one followed me from one gate to the other.  I was around 3 at the time.  I've been petrified of them ever since.  The enclosure at the zoo has since been changed so that we are on one side and the emus on the other. I still walk through the place pretty damn fast though.
 

Cockroaches: They are slimy and even killing them grosses me out because they make that horrible crunching sound. 
 

Dentists: It took me 2 months of daily pain before I got the courage up to go get my tooth ripped out. Then she told me to come back the next day for more...yeh that wasn't going to happen.  It's not the pain, its the sounds. The drill freaks me out, especially when you can feel it grinding away your tooth. *shudders*
 

Needles: I don't faint at the sight of them or anything like that but I can't look at them. When I was 12 a nurse told me that if I didn't see the size of the needle then it wouldn't hurt as much. I've stuck to that rule ever since and refuse to look at the needle.  Ever. I will even close my eyes if it means I don't have to see the needle.  Yes the irony isn't lost on me.
 

Heights:  In grade 11 we had a leadership camp. It involved rock climbing and high ropes aka my own personal idea of hell.  I ripped open my hands helping people to climb the high ropes, just so I didn't have to do it.  I hate standing on a chair and usually get Devil Papa to change light bulbs for me. 
 

What are you scared of?

Selfishness and Parties

 A conversation on twitter yesterday got me thinking about my 21st.  In Australia the big parties seem to be the 18th, 21st and then the decades there after.  My 18th was pretty non event so I was holding out for my 21st.  The universe however had other ideas. I was 6 months pregnant with Devil Spawn for my 21st so my birthday was a no alcohol for me event.  I wanted to just go to the local pool and laze around in my giant pregnant state but apparently that was unfair to all of my other able to drink guests. Whatevs
 

Just to throw another spanner in the works Devil Papa also got shingles in the week before the party so he was too tired to stay much longer than a couple of hours.  It did make the night relatively cheaper though as two of the biggest drinkers were out of action!
 

My family traveled down for it (7 hours so was a bit of a hike for them) and we had dinner at a local pub. I had a few friends come along and it started off as a nice night.  Until one annoying friend, who is no longer my friend, started to complain.  Some part of her brain malfunctioned and she thought that the night was about her. Her brain malfunctioning is all that I can think of because surely no one is as selfish as she acted that night.
 

The party started at 630pm (I think, the memory is a bit fuzzy) and after half an hour she was complaining that she was bored and wanted to know when we planned on going clubbing.  As I already mentioned, my family had traveled 7 hours to be here, they sure as hell deserved more than 30 minutes of my time.  Also no one in their right mind goes clubbing at 7pm, there is no one out and you look like a dick.
 

My party was also a sit down dinner...no one had eaten.  If you have ever been pregnant or been around someone who is pregnant, then you know that nothing stands between a pregnant woman and her food.  Especially at the particular pub we were at. They are known for their giant meals.  Devil Papa and I go there regularly and often take left overs home as there is enough for another meal.
I tried to ignore said friend to no avail. She was adamant that we must leave as soon as possible for the clubs.  She even made a point of walking out in a huff (aka adult sized tantrum) after I had said for what felt like the 1000th time that no we were not going anywhere yet. I hadn't made plans to go clubbing at all but if the opportunity arose I'd take it. 8pm was not the opportunity that I saw.
 

The party came to a close and a few of us decided to go to a large hotel that was in the vicinity of the clubs but not completely full of douche bags.  As I mentioned, I was six months pregnant at the time and just wanted to dance without someone grinding their groin on me.  As the hotel was mainly filled with middle aged women at the time, instead of getting my arse grabbed there was lots of belly rubbing to feel like Devil Spawn kick.  He obliged by doing his usual Mexican wave across my stomach. 
 

This 'club' was obviously not to the standard of which my 'friend' was hoping for.  She once again still forgot that it was in fact my party and we were going where I damn well said we were. Yes I was an only child for 11 years...how did you guess?  She complained and huffed about how we weren't doing what she wanted to do. 

After my parents left, I told her to go do what she wanted because I was sick to death of her attitude.  I was pretty reserved and had to tell another friend who was there at the time to leave it, because I was very close to telling her to go fuck herself.
While this friend didn't ruin my night, it made the night very unpleasant.  Her selfish actions left a sour taste in my mouth and it wasn't too much longer after that, that I cut her out of my life completely.
 

Have you had a party ruined by someone else's attitude?

Hiding in the quiet

Do you know what it's like to have too much noise in your head? When the world is too noisy and there is nothing you can do to quieten it?  You listen to music to try to block it all out, but it just makes you feel worse.  You feel agitated and messy. Nothing is right.  Everything is annoying.  You can't quite put your finger on what it is that is wrong.
 

The world is too hard, too harsh. It is easier to lock yourself away, to pretend it doesn't exist. You crave contact, but it's too much. You feel constantly on edge because you have concocted in your head a story that is more fantasy than fiction.  You imagine what everyone is thinking, saying. Laughter is meant for you, you become agitated, ready to snap at the first person who dares to look at you the wrong way. 
 

Waking is too hard. Your head is constantly heavy. It's easier to have your eyes closed. Easier to pretend that there is no one else there. Everyday is a blanket over your head kind of day. It feels too hard.  Simply getting out of bed feels like an effort. An effort that you struggle with.  An effort that you wonder if it's worth it. 
 

Have you walked on the beach, in the soft sand with thongs full of sand, up a hill? It's a struggle. Your body aches and you aren't sure if you can keep going.  That is what it's like everyday. Just when you think you are near the end, another hill appears. You want to give up but even that seems like too much effort. You look around, notice all of the mess piling up around you, knowing you should do something about it. Knowing that there is nothing that you could possibly do about it.
 

You can see the parts of your life that are suffering, know that there are things you should be doing.  You can't quite do it.  It's easier this way. But it's not.  Even keeping up a conversation is too much. You stay polite. Hiding away as soon as you get home. Keeping correspondence to messages and social media.  Plastering on a smile. Pretending you aren't dying inside.  

You want to walk away and never look back. Your finger is on the button. You want to make the call but know it will be pointless. Really. You need time out, time to gather yourself. Time where you don't have a little person to answer to. Time where you have no one but yourself to answer to. Time where you can just put the blanket over your head. Admit defeat and start rebuilding yourself.
 

Admitting it is the first step...it's all uphill from here.

PMS can bite me

PMS or Premenstrual Syndrome is a bit of a touchy subject. A subject that seems to gather a lot of 'of she must be on her rags' comments from the more dense variety of the opposite sex.  PMS however is a very real syndrome for a lot of women.  Better health Channel says that up to 75% of women experience mild symptoms, while 20-30% experience more severe symptoms that can affect their mental well being.
 

The symptoms of PMS differ from woman to woman.  They can range from the physical such as bloating, weight gain, acne and swollen, tender breasts.  Many women also experience emotional symptoms such as decreased self esteem, moodiness, decreased/increased sex drive and anxiety.
 

There is also there more serious symptom of depression and suicidal ideation.  This is a symptom that I experienced.  It was horrible.  In the week leading up to my period, my depression reached new lows.  I couldn't get out of bed.  I didn't see the point. Many of my suicide attempts coincided with my period.  I just couldn't see the end. Even though I had dealt with this every month, I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. The stress overrode the limited amount of coping mechanisms that I had.
 

When I was a teenager, one of my psychiatrists warned me to never go on Depo Provera for contraception.  After I feel pregnant and had to go cold turkey on all of my medication, I knew that I couldn't/didn't want to go through that again.  It was a roller coaster of emotions and mood swings.  I needed a contraception that I didn't have to remember to take every day because lets face it, some days I would forget my head if it wasn't screwed on.  I wanted something that I could just do it and then it works and something that wasn't invasive.  I have a lot of scar tissue on my arms, and so I wasn't able to get the rod in my arm, that left me with Depo.   

I do feel some of the effects of the Depo.  I have a consistent low mood that I am fighting...however it is much better than the PMS that I used to experience.  My crisis points are now further apart, rather than every single month.  It gives me time to work on my skills, hone in on the strategies that I already have.
 

Do you suffer from PMS badly? What are you never fail techniques to help lighten the load each month? 

Linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT 

Loose Lips

Everyone knows that alcohol loosens your lips...but should it loosen your hips.  I call my vodka my 'liquid courage', it helps me say the things that I am just too damn afraid to say.  

Some people may say I am obnoxious...that is only if you find yourself at the end of my accusing eye. I take everything in, ruminate on it, save it up for a rainy day. So you know if I have a 'go' at you about something, I have been thinking about you, for a long time.
 

Alcohol is no excuse. I have done some stupid stuff while drunk, stuff that I am not proud of. It doesn't change the fact that, I CHOSE TO DRINK. Some people seem to struggle with this.  They are happy to lay blame on a liquid. 
 

It seems to have become socially acceptable in our society to act like a complete douchehog every time there is even a drop of alcohol in our system.  This needs to stop. You may feel like I am preaching from some 'high' place. I am not. I am just someone who is struggling to come to terms with the decisions they have made.  People that I have decided to allow into my life. People that I have since cut off.
 

Where is your line? I used to think that mine was pretty clear. Turns out it is not.  I let people act in ways that I wouldn't normally accept. I was lonely and didn't want to lose friendships.  It came to the point where I had to choose between the safety of my son and my friends.  Despite my struggles, my son will win every time.
 

Alcohol is no excuse. Ever. If you don't want to be accused of shitty behaviour, then don't act shitty. I have been trying to live up to my 'resolutions'. I have since added another. It's about not just sitting around and bitching, its about doing what needs to be done. So far I have accomplished that. I feel much more complete from doing something rather than sitting back and letting the evil prosper.

Obsession

I've talked before about my struggles with food. Food and I have never had a good relationship.  I could list reason after reason, point to some obscure moment in my childhood where it all started but that's not what this is about. No, this is about obsession and the hold it takes over you.
 

I can't really pinpoint the moment when it turned from flirting to obsession. It was so subtle I hardly noticed the change.  Eating 'normally' was never something that I did. I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I swing between eating nothing and eating all of the food in sight.  Which is probably why my weight yo-yos so much.  Disordered eating is that one step up, it's when it turns to obsession.
 

I hadn't regularly eaten lunch at school since I was 14, the year I turned 17 however it got 'serious'.  It started off as a 'health kick'.  Adding exercise to my routine. Then it wasn't enough. The food got less, the exercise got more. The weight started to drop off. School work suffered. I honestly have no idea how I managed to graduate.
An obsession consumes you. There is no room for anything else. 

You are exhausted all of the time, you pull away from friends.  I became my obsession. Every waking minute was filled with thoughts about much had I eaten, how much exercise I was going to do, when the next time I was going to eat.  Even though I had ridiculously reduced my calorie intake, my thoughts were still obsessed with food. I would allow myself one thing to eat a day. I would spend hours thinking about what that one piece of food could be.
 

I rarely slept. If I ate too much I needed to punish myself.  Too much could be an apple. I knew the calorie value of a food by just looking at it. My math skills greatly improved, pity I didn't use them for my schooling. I might have done much better.  Anything above 6 hours sleep during the week and I was doing well. No wonder I was a bundle of nerves.  Going off at the slightest thing.  My body was starving of all the essentials it needed and all I saw was things to make me push harder. 
 

It seemed to end as soon as it started. Sneaking away like a thief in the night. 

Linking up with #IBOT

Listmania: Currently I am

On my usual morning social media read, I stumbled across a new linky party by Deb from Home Life Simplified. It's brand new for 2013 and has a new list of prompts each week.  The linky is open for a week so if you are a blogger then come along and join the party!

 This weeks prompt is Currently I am:

 Reading: I just finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower.  I quite enjoyed it.  I think I'll read a Janet Evanovich one next as I like to have a filler in between 'heavy' books.

Listening to: Napoleon. Devil Spawn has taken a liking to the movie. I'm just waiting for the disc to die from overuse.

Laughing at: The phrases that Devil Spawn comes out with. It's amazing seeing how his brain works when he comes out with some of the stuff he does! 

Swooning over: In light of the Breastfeeding debate that was sparked by a woman getting asked to leave a pool, the images of Ryan Gosling that are circulating. He thinks Breastfeeding is sexy ;)

Planning: I've gotten into the swing of the Menu Planning and it's actually working, most of the time.  

Eating lots of: Lattice Slice. It is yum yum and the recipe can be found here

Feeling: Completely overwhelmed...still

Discovering: Not everything is as it appears. It's better to to stabbed in the front by an enemy than stabbed in the back by a friend.

Looking at: Ways to improve the blog. Let me know what YOU want to see more of here 

Wearing: As little clothes as possible when I'm at home. It is ridiculously hot here at the moment. I feel like I am sitting in a giant pool of sweat, even at midnight.

Cooking: More meals that are easy, but still nutritious. Ones that also appeal to a fussy toddler are also winners.

Wondering: If I am taking the right steps to making 2013 my bitch. It feels like two steps forward, one step back at the moment. I will OWN it!

Trying out: A bit of goal orientated exercise with Kate and signed up for Operation Move. 

What are you currently....

 

Are you ready?

Recently a friend asked me when was the right time to have a baby, thinking that I must know because I already have a child.  At the time I offered the stock standard, you are never ready answer.  I have been thinking about it a bit more lately.  There's more to it than that.
 

It's true, you are never ready. There are so many things that all of the baby books and experts in the world couldn't prepare you for. Your baby. It doesn't matter if this is your first baby or your 10th. No baby is the same. Hell, what worked an hour ago might not work now. 
 

You will never have enough money. You will never have the right job. Your partner will never be in the right position. Children are unpredictable. Just when you think you have it all figured out, a curve ball comes from the left field.  You'll make it work though. You have to.
 

You will never have all the answers. No amount of reading, attending information nights or antenatal classes will prepare you for the amazing, humbling experience of bringing a child into the world.  Sure it's better than going in blind, just don't feel you know it all. There is always room to improve, things that your little human beings will teach you.
 

There are so many things that I wasn't prepared for. The loss of sleep. You don't know sleep deprivation until you have a child. There is no taking a day off. They have endless amounts of energy, while you have none. It is amazing the things that you somehow manage to complete while running on about 4 hours of broken sleep. All dignity goes when you have a child. Be prepared to have a running commentary of your life. Guess what, talking about toilet habits in public no longer phases me. I have no qualms walking through Big W and telling Devil Spawn that we need to go because mummy needs to do a wee.
 

Even though you will never be ready 'enough', you make it work. You work with what you have. Sometimes it is not much at all, it's always enough. A child isn't going to remember the things you bought them, the money you spent. They are going to remember the times you smiled, the times you encouraged and loved.  They won't remember you not having all of the answers, they'll remember you making the best with what you have.
 

Do you think there is ever a perfect time to have a child?

Healthy Me

I've decided that things need to change around here. I'm not going to make the usual 'I am going to lose x amount of kilos', only to feel guilty in a weeks time when I am stuffing my face with food I told myself I wasn't going to eat. 
 

This year is going to be different. This year I am aiming for health instead.  Losing weight will be just one of the bonus'. Physically my body is feeling the effects of my not giving a damn. My hair is dry and frizzy, my skin is forever in a state of break outs, my nails are growing at a snails pace, my energy levels are lacking.  I go to bed feeling crap, I wake up feeling crap. It is a giant rut and I am stuck right in the middle of it. 
 

This year instead of being a year of cycles of deprivation, followed by guilt when I 'give in', I am going to follow my body.  Eat healthy but not deprive myself. Live realistically. Everyone is different and I know for myself, the minute I say that there will be 'no more (instert food here)' that is the exact food that I crave.  I won't be following any fad diets. I will just be getting back to basics.
 

This year I am starting from the inside and then the effects will show on the outside.  Every time I go to my GP and she does my iron it is always ridiculously low, I need to start taking Iron supplements, as well as multivitamin.  Filling in the deficits that I know are there, getting energy back that I used to have.  Drinking more water, flushing out my system from the sugars and chemicals of months of drinking nothing but cordial and soft drink. 
 

This year I will become more involved. Working my way back up to being active like I once once.  Pushing for the endorphins that exercise gives.  Enjoying being in the outdoors again. Becoming involved with actually playing with Devil Spawn.  Working towards a better fitness level.  Allowing myself the opportunity to feel good physically again. 
 

This year I won't be getting caught up in the details. I will be taking it a day at a time, moment by moment. I won't be leaving things until tomorrow because tomorrow never comes.  Seizing the moment, no matter how strange it feels. Using my energy to it's advantage.  Getting back into a routine.  Fixing what needs fixing and moving on.  Letting go of the negative and allowing the positive to flow through.
 

What have you decided needs to change in your life? Are you already making steps or are you waiting for the tomorrow that never comes?
 

What are you waiting for? Seize the moment, you never know when it will come again.

Linking up with Jess for #IBOT 

Body Love

If the 'fashion world' is to be believed, plus size starts at size 12-14. I call fucking bullshit! How on earth are we supposed to portray to our children that size isn't everything, when a world that is so dominant to a teenager is telling them that they are 'overweight' at a size 12-14.  There is so much outrage...and yet nothing is done.  

When will it be that a woman is recognised for her brain, her voice, her passion and not the size of her bra, shirt and short short skirt?
 

Loving my body is something that I have always struggled with and continue to struggle with.  It doesn't matter what size I am...I hate it.  I stand in front of the mirror, poking and proding, picking out things that I do not like.  I have always felt a strong disconnection between my body and my mind. My mind is strong, my body is weak. 
 

This isn't about hate though, this is about love.  I don't hate my entire body, I don't know if that is entirely possible. Even at my lowest of lows, when poked and prodded I could eventually come up with something that I liked.  As I have gotten older, I have realised the strenght that my body has. The things that I have put it through and it's come through the other side virtually unscathed.  Every weekend I thank my liver for being a fucking trooper.  That bastard puts up with a bashing!
 

I have lived through OD's that if left untreated could have done severe damage, drank things that were intended for cleaning purposes only and still my body is reasonably ok. I have reflux that hurts like a bitch when I forget my meds but other than that, it's doing ok.  I had someone lace my drink with turps and yet all I felt was a couple of cramps. Like I said my body has copped a hiding.  It still does the stuff I want it to do! It might put up a hell of a protest but we get there in the end.
 

I have cut it, burnt it and scratched at it.  I have tried to destroy my body in any way I could. Still it's here, doing the shit it's supposed to do.  It might not look the way that I want it to look. Does anyones?
 

I birthed a mother fucking baby out of my body.  I felt like a beach ball with legs, and still my body did everything that it needed to do.  It created this little Devil Spawn. It was amazing and scary all at the same time but my body did it.
 

Do you love your body? Has it kept you in awe at the amazing things it can do?
 

Link up for #RCThursdays below.  This is the last one for the year so lets go out with a bang :)