God makes beauty from ashes

So...remembering things is not my strength. And therefore, I've forgotten to take my anti-depressants two weeks in a row now. My eyes swollen from crying for an hour upstairs (because no one sits on the 3rd floor of this building so I was free to just cry as much as I wanted and no one would see or hear me). Muscles aching from me rigidly trying to hold my body together. I'm not well, you guys. I'm not well at all. Do you remember I told you once about 'the snowball effect' and that one little thing can tip a sensitive, depression-prone person off to heightened emotions and weighing up whether they should live or die? Well my 'snowball' was my friend Tara telling me that her boss said I was "too talkative" and that Tara shouldn't talk to me anymore. Logic says "Pfft. Don't worry about it. No biggie". Logic reminds me that I work really hard in this role and that when I do talk - to anyone - at work, it's as I&#

I want you to know why I'm so twisted up and wrecked on the inside. Get comfy, this may well be a very long blog. I grew up as a very serious girl with a massive forehead. I think my forehead was huge because of all the worrying I did. People can remember right back to being 2 or 3 years old sometimes but for me, my memories start at being 5. I don't remember 'being' any earlier than that. I have glimpses of before I was 5 years old - quick flashes of images that are so hazy, I don't know any more if they're real or not. Like, I remember living with my Mom, Aunty and Grandmother - in a dirty hut close to a river. The river was dirty and the smell was horrible. I remember a straw mat. I remember my Mom's deep, throaty voice when she sang. I remember a tiny old television with little ceramic dwarves decorated on the top of it. I think they were miniature versions of the dwarves in "Snow White". I remember their bright colours and how much I l

Well hello there bloggers :) How are you? Nothing much to report today, other than feeling so so so so tired. Like, right down to my very bones. I'll tell you about Jesus... because I think I saw him today . Yep. I was crossing the overpass between Murray and Hay street – the one over the Carillion food court - on my way to work this morning. There was a fellow about 5 meters ahead of me, walking against the oncoming onslaught of people on their way to the train station. He was about 70. Maybe a bit younger? It was hard to tell. He had a grey suit on and the jacket was a size or two too big for him - it almost hung sadly off him - as if it didn't want to be in the city that day any more than he did. The guy in the suit had a big wad of pamphlets in his hand and he was trying to give them out but nobody wanted one . People were going out of their way to avoid eye contact with pamphlet guy and one lady even drew her handbag closer to her body – like he was wanting to st

...or "pushing on a pull door" They're the titles of the autobiographie's I'd write about myself. I like " The Comeback " more than "Pushing on a pull door" What do you think? People I love have said a few times to me "you should write a book" Well here it is - because my blog is the book of my life. Only, it's a book that grows and changes each week - right along with me. If you're still here reading after all this time...thank you. It means the world to me. I want to tell my story because it's what I know best. Everyone says write what you know...so here's what I  know. In little bits - whenever the mood strikes (haha), I'll be telling you about my life. As I have done in previous blogs. You get to read my joy, my fear, my anxieties, my mistakes, whenever I get ripped off and whenever I make a huge step forward. I think I know a lot about really stupid, insignificant things...but then a lot about

Half an hour left of my shift at work and I can't wait to go home. I'm MEANT to be going to the gym and taking my interval training from running for 3 minutes at a time to running for 4 minutes...but really, I just want to get donuts, get home and go to bed. I want to put my favourite pjs on, roll myself into a ball and just lay there until the ladypains stop. For now, though - I thought I'd write :) I'm loving my job. One of the best things about working here are the cool people I work with. Hamid is getting used to me and because we're becoming 'real friends', he's being a lot more sassy with me. I asked him my 'one question' today (what was his favourite chocolate - snickers, God bless him) and when I wanted to ask another, he shook his head firmly "Janet - you are just wasting time" (in his awesome Dracular accent and voice) "Get back to work and stop asking questions" Oh! Haha. "Bossy" I replied, sti

I was browsing the shelves in Dymocks bookstore the other day. There is something about bookstores and Libraries - something profoundly comforting about stepping in and feeling all the stress and worry leave my body. I love bookstores for the way they provide the new and exciting...and I love Libraries for the way they welcome rest and leisurely time. I think I've read an entire book in one sitting in a Library before. I was so engrossed, time just slipped by. It was an old-fashioned "pick a path" book and I kept choosing horrible things. Haha. It was a good laugh and I enjoyed it so much. Anyway, I was in the bookstore the other day and I picked up a book called "249 creative stories to write" or something like that. It was a book for young teens, I think - because it had "tell a story about your favourite class in school" as one of the options. I still loved it, though. Basically, it was a book with a few lines at the top of a page and then just