Helping Myself

Sometimes, when the black dog is hanging around, it’s hard to keep going.

Lost in the fog, I stop smelling the roses and focus on getting through the day, one sluggish step at a time.

This blog is going to help me on those dark days, by enabling me to look back on moments like these pictured above.

A reminder of who I am, who I love and who loves me.


The Boy Who Broke My Heart

(image source)

(image source)

Our eyes locked and I knew my heart was yours.

I loved you so much, I wanted to be your perfect love. Quickly I became scared and depressed, worrying I couldn’t be what you need to be.

A year passed. I got better. The sun began to shine more.

Then you got sick. Every few weeks we would make high-speed journeys under blue lights with me clinging to your hand, willing you to be OK.

On the darkest night of my life I watched as the room filled with white coats. They worked frantically to resuscitate you. Pressed against the hospital room wall, I made promises to god, the devil and everyone else I could think of.

The cracks in my heart started to appear.

It should have been me on that bed, not you.

More time passed. The illness was managed, our lives became calmer, more settled.

Except something was wrong. I couldn’t pin-point what, but you were changing.

We talked, we saw counsellors, we tried therapy.

It became harder to reach you.

Of course, I knew the truth deep down. I didn’t want to hear it. I still don’t.

I denied, I raged, I blamed myself.

I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t leave when you needed me so much.

So now I stand and watch as you rage. Spitting venom and anger. Throwing threats at me to self-harm or to hurt the others you love.

I stand and take it, feeling my heart splinter inside me.

I have to stay. I have to change. I must help you understand yourself and make other understand you, because I am the one who knows you best.

You are the boy who broke my heart without ever meaning to.

And I am your mum.

24 hours

Yesterday was my birthday….

The Saint booked at table at Ananda on Saturday night.

Fabulous tapas (the photos are shocking as we were using TS’s blackberry), great atmosphere and we would definitely go again.

My birthday celebrations got of to a great start with me getting velly, velly drunk.

Next morning, mouth like the bottom of a budgie cage, and extremely hungover, I was contemplating my demise when I could hear the excited squeals of my boys.

I rallied for the gift opening.

Please note the massive pile of Cherry Ripes care of Cheeky Monkey and the huge sparkly note book from Boy Wonder.

Look at the Kenwood Mixer! BW’s idea! Very spoilt.

I faded pretty soon after this, so TS suggested breakfast out.

We headed to my favourite place to have brekkie which overlooks my favourite beach.


My beautiful boys made it really special.

We rounded off the day with a trip to the drive-in cinema in Dandenong.

So lovely to be snuggled and cosy in the back of the car watching a movie (Madagascar 3 in case you wanted to know).

Happy Birthday? Definitely.

Thankful Thursday

Inspired by Kate Says Stuff I am joining in with Thankful Thursday.

And a good job too.

The Black Dog is raining on my parade, so a chance to piss on his chips by taking a moment to think about some of the positives in my life is a good thing.

This week I am thankful that The Saint is, well, a saint. Not only working like mad to provide for his family, but supporting me in starting this little blog and in a million other ways.

I am grateful that we are (only just) in a position that I can stay at home, giving myself the time and space to come up with strategies for Boy Wonder like The Food Project.

I am thankful for moments like The Glitter Patch for reminding me that all is not lost and that there is hope for the future.

Most of all I am thankful for my little, loving family whose kisses and squeezes make it all worth while.

Take that Black Dog.