God makes beauty from ashes

I came home from work today and felt exhausted. Every hour at work felt like it took 3 hours to pass. I had to plaster on a brave face and greet everyone with a bright smile. I went to the bathroom 3 times during my shift at work; shutting the cubicle door behind me and stood there with my back against it - just to let the tears flow, hot and heavy down my cheeks. I wiped them carefully away, took deep breaths and went back out to reception, smiling away as if nothing at all was wrong. All the while thinking I just want to sleep and sleep and to never wake up. Life is just too painful. By the time I let myself in the front door at home, I was so weary that I considered going to bed and not even taking my shoes off. My love of Pjs took over and I changed into my favourite pair and curled up into a ball on the top of the bedcovers. I laid there, listening to my heart and hoping it would slow. Slow and slow and slow. And stop. Because I feel so broken and hurt over the last ...

Hey, I made an "emergency appointment" with my GP and told her I'm suicidal. She's given me the number of the nearest Private Hospital to my home and said it's a really lovely place. Dr D recommends the staff highly and as I love her and value her opinion, maybe it's a good idea after all? I also called "George" my psych and have an appointment with him first thing on Thursday morning. Bless him, he's called me too - just to make sure I'm still here. I've let Alun know, too. I hated worrying him but I wanted him to know because if he was feeling this way, I'd want him to tell me. Alun calls me every hour to check I'm okay. I'm not okay but I'm doing my best to get through this. Alun's home all day tomorrow and Wednesday so I'm looking forward to having him home. I love this man so much. I might not be important to my family, but I have good people around me. Logic tells me that I don't need to be suic...

I've read a lot of posts on FB lately about the same topic - what we choose to remember. "Do 100 things right, no one says a word, but do ONE thing wrong - and they'll never forget it" "No one remembers all the good things you did for them - they only remember the one time when you stuffed up" My friend Christabel challenged me on this with my memory of growing up and my memories of my family. I want to say for the record, they did a lot of things right. I wasn't locked in a Dungeon or made to sleep outside in a tent, I was included in the family home. I was included in family holidays - they didn't go overseas without me. I was given pocket money just the same way Jay was. It bothered me that we were given the same amount; considering I actually worked for mine (Jay didn't have to do anything for his) and was 5 years older...but at least I was included. The family table was always set for four. I wasn't sent outside like an animal...

The question I always have when I hear that someone's committed suicide is "Why?" I remember the first time I'd ever heard of it. I was about 14 and it was on the news. A boy about the same age as me had committed suicide. The television flashed with images of him - captain of the Cricket team, popular at school, images of him and his beautiful girlfriend - cheeks squashed together as they pulled happy faces at the camera. He had so many achievements. His grieving parents cried as they spoke into the camera "He was such a happy person...we don't understand"... ...and looking at his success and how happy he seemed in his life, I didn't, either. Why would you kill yourself when you had so much to live for? When you had so much in your life that was so happy and successful and really blessed? It made no sense to me. Especially when I compared my life to his and came up...lacking. I didn't consider I had many friends. I definitely wasn...

I've written a post already in the past titled "Families we choose for ourselves". Do you know, its my most popular blog post? 163 hits. To me, that's pretty impressive. Makes me smile whenever I see that number go up. I think it goes up a few digits every few weeks. It must hit home with people. I guess a lot of people really like it. To keep myself alive, away from Bunnings and away from thoughts of rope and ending my life, I'm going to write about the family I have around me. Not the biological kind - the kind that in my case - actually do me some good. Alun is my family. He is everything to me and I couldn't wish for anyone better because he's honestly the BEST person I know. I'm so incredibly blessed of God to be his wife. Marc R - a very sarcastic  young man in Liverpool - is my adopted little brother. I actually even call him "LB" because of that very fact. I adore him and he's been there for me when I've not had the ...

I talked with my bestie Christabel, about Dad's responses. I'm glad she pointed out that he may well have still be quite drunk and that when he sobered up, he might change his mind and I'd get the reaction I initially expected. I'm glad Christabel warned me of that because at the time, I was floating on clouds and basking in the daydream of coloured heart-shaped confetti falling from the ceiling and Katy Perry's "roar" playing in the background. I am invincible!!! Christabel's voice and wise advice to just 'step carefully' and still be a little cautious was well timed and brought me back down to earth. Of course, she was right. (Don't tell her, but Christabel's usually always right). Still pretty excited - but now also wary - I rang Dad. "Dad - what are you up to?" Dad: *sounding as if he was suffering a huge hangover* Ohhh...just strolling around the city wasting time while I wait for your mother to finish work....

Oh Lord, I write long blogs, don't I? I'm really sorry and I'm so grateful you've stayed alongside me. Even though I waffle a lot. I didn't go to family dinner on Thursday night. I think I made the right decision. I went instead on Friday afternoon to go and hang out with my parents. I could tell from the moment Mom opened her apartment door to me that they were both very, very drunk. Dad normally gets affected in 2 ways when he's drunk: 1) He becomes a story-teller and wants to talk for hours and hours 2) He becomes really angry and bitter about things that have happened in the past and gets easily angry about anything I say and do at the time, too. Yesterday, I got see a new version of "drunk Dad"...a very emotional one. I wasn't sure how to respond to this version because I've not dealt with it much in the past. Dad held me close and got very teary. "I'm very proud of you" he said, tears slipping down his...

Because I'm moving on from my family today - so I'm 4 down. I won't have my Mom, Dad, brother or his horrible, fake, two-faced fiance in my life anymore. But 10 up because in terms of health, happiness and well-being, my life is only going to get better from here. 5 hours ago: I was mulching some new capsicum plants I'd put into large pots in our back garden. I had also just recently potted some really pretty marigolds around the herb garden. I read somewhere they are a natural repellant to pests. I didn't realise they were also really, really pretty. They shine their little flower faces in reds, oranges, yellows and all the colours in between...they're gorgeous and brighten up the green herb garden in such a beautiful way. I needed a break (yes, I'm getting old and my back hurts now after only a few hours of gardening - can you believe it?) so I came inside to look at Alun as he slept. He's on nightshift for another week yet and was fast asleep ...

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) By E. E. Cummings I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart). I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling).                                                        I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful, you are my world; my true) and you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you Here is the deepest secret nobody knows Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher ...

Every once in a while, I get this fear: The fear that I'll be killed, this blog will be all that's left of me and all people will read about is moaning, complaining and griping. This blog is my heart, you know. My core. What makes me - me . So - over the last few days, I've been editing . I don't want my brother to read this and think I hate him. I don't hate you, Jay. I just don't like the person you've become. I don't want my parents to read this and think I've blamed them for "imaginary hurts". They are real to me, Mom and Dad. They really happened to me. I think we all know that. Deep down. We all know it really happened. I'm not going crazy. I don't want ex/past friends to recognise themselves in this and think "HOW DARE YOU?" because I've only complained or written about how hurt I've been by them and haven't written down the good days as well as the bad days. Unfortunately, all I can s...

I just now watched a youtube video called "an experiment in Gratitude/the science of happiness" by a group called "soul pancake" Now. I love pancakes, happiness and gratitude so of course I clicked on the link. A group of students asked volunteers to come in and do a 'happiness test'. The volunteers were asked to write a short paragraph or page on someone they admire/someone who has influenced them/someone they're thankful for. Once that page was written, the volunteers were asked to phone who they wrote about (wheeyyy) and read the paragraph/page to them. I like that idea. With 2 hours and 15 minutes left of work (no one is in the building - or at least it feels that way) I'm going to tell you who I'm grateful for and why. Get a cup of tea, this may be a long blog post. *goes and fills up her own water bottle* Right. I'll start with ALUN. I of course love him. I'm crazy about this guy. But I want to tell you why I...