Happy Monday

As wrecked as I now am, ironically from the happiness of the day, I felt it ever so important to share in the joy and express why and how today was a ‘good news day.’

Because you can never have too much positivity.

It all started when I drove in to work, and found a park, in a really busy area where it’s usually really hard to find a spot at that time of morning. Lucky Tick.

I picked up a coffee and got into work before starting time. Soon after I had my yearly performance review with my boss, and was very pleased to hear she was very happy with me. I was appreciated, and they were glad to have me back, even in a part-time role. It’s always nice to hear that you’re wanted and appreciated. Job satisfaction Tick and Tick.

I caught up with a friend, who was now in a serious relationship with the guy she had liked for about 2 years. Hearing of how well things were going for her, made me so happy. I love stories like that. People who are meant to be, ending up together. She thanked me for helping her not lose it over that time, and for helping her ‘persevere.’ Awww shucks. Love and Happiness Tick. Dreams DO come true. You CAN get the guy!

I then got a random phone call from a health care business on my side of town. A former work colleague had put me down as a referee on her resume, and the place she had recently applied to was calling to get the low down on her! Being the fantastic person that she is, it was no problem to speak highly of her, tell them I missed having someone like her around in my current workplace, and that she was a very happy, friendly, talkative, yet hard-working and loyal employee. I messaged her later today, and she said she got the job! She had been looking for so long, and for so long I had wished there was something I could do to help her. And unwittingly, I totally did!

Job and Friend Helping Tick!

Then I happened across a programme at work, pretty much based on the changing face of Australia and how we have become the nation we are today through our people and achievements. I was proud to again be witness to the remarkable feat Cathy Freeman achieved at the Sydney Olympics, when she ran the 400 metre sprint and won, under the intense pressure and scrutiny of the world. Seeing the vision of her excel and succeed, amidst such public and also personal pressure, of being in the position to realise her dreams and became an Olympic champion, was truly motivational and touching. Inspirational Tick.

A horribly bittersweet story came next, of the Australian team that were one of the countries that had partaken in ‘Operation Babylift,’ where in 1975 they tried to rescue babies from orphanages in South Vietnam as a result of the war at that time. Although most of the footage of this event was re-enacted, seeing the images and hearing the stories of the people who fought against terrifying odds to take sick, close to dying children on a plane, crying and scared and set out in cardboard boxes, and nurturing them until they set foot on Australian soil, was truly moving. I struggled with great difficulty to fight the sobs as I watched one scene, of a woman run towards the bus which was taking the Australian team with the orphaned babies to their ready bound-for-Australia plane, begging them to take her child.

Crying, and begging, for them to take her baby. She wanted her baby to be saved, to be safe, in light of the harsh and sad reality that she, her baby’s mother, may never come out of the war alive. She couldn’t come with them. Being a mother, this scene was incredibly hard to watch, and it was only a re-enactment. Albeit a true story, nonetheless.

The happy ending out of it all, is that all the crew and the orphaned babies made it back to Australia alive. In sum, approximately 3000 babies were saved as a result of ‘Operation Babylift.’ And seeing that many of the adopted babies had grown and had families of their own in this great country of ours, made me so happy, made me so bloody proud to be part of a country that was part of such an important humanitarian effort. I am so, so proud to be Australian. Heart-tugging and patriotic TICK, TICK, TICK.

And then on a completely different, and lighter note: I came home and found a save-the-date card had been sent to us for an upcoming wedding of a really old friend of mine. I love weddings, and you know life is good when you have great things to celebrate. Celebration Tick. Milk it when you can.

I shared my ‘good news day’ on facebook, and funnily have had cousins messaging me asking if I’m pregnant again. No, for the record, I’m not. I’m enjoying my red wine too much at the moment to be ready for that again. But it was lovely to hear from people on the other side of town, whether 30 minutes away, 60 minutes away, or on the other side of the world (as occurred when my cousin in Germany messaged me!) Family Tick.

It’s been a great day. It’s been a great Monday. Today has been somewhat of an exceptional example, yet I think the lesson here is that you can find good, no matter how small, in every day.

Helping other makes you happy.

Sharing with others makes you happy.

Being rewarded makes you happy.

I forgot the best part of the day. Laughing with baby girl on the couch, as I blew air into her face, and she exploded wet raspberries onto mine.

Motherly, Tick. 🙂

Life is good. Life is great. Let’s not forget that.

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Bring back the school photos

I was chatting to a work colleague today when I came across an interesting thought. As usually occurs post-coffee consumption.

We were discussing the years that go by way too quickly, and I noted how I seem to be stuck in the year 2001. Every time someone mentions the ’90s, for a brief moment a part of me recollects ‘ahh, just a few years ago.’

Mmmm, nope. Try going on 15 years ago. 2001 coincides with my last year of high school, and for some reason, my head just wants to live in that time.

I mentioned how the start of high school is so drastically different compared to the person you are when you leave at the end of Year 12. There is so much growth and development, so many changes, physically, emotionally and mentally, that occur in those 6 years. And then you leave school, go on to further study or find work, yet those following years are kind of a bit of blur. You get married, and throw in some more unfocused years, where everything just seems to blend into the next.

Thinking of the image I had of each high school year, it hit me: photos. We had photos to mark each year of our school lives, something that abruptly stopped when we entered the real world. That photo wasn’t only a snapshot of the physical (and horribly awkward) changes we were undergoing at the time, but if you recall your school photos, take out the old album and leaf through the pages, you’ll have names, scenarios, moments and feelings come through to you. That one photo represents your entire year, your entire state of being, not just at school, but in this “thing called life” (as Prince says).

We need the school photos to come back.

That’s what’s missing. That’s why the days, weeks, months, years, all blend into one another and follow the other in this indistinct conga line of blur.

Recently, the years don’t seem so blurry, and that’s because they have been punctuated with approximately 5,610 photos of baby girl since her sweet arrival into our world. All those photos of a girl who isn’t even two, paints a strong picture of the time before her birth, her first year with us and these current months as she develops into a vibrant, happy, energetic and beautiful soul.

But I still kinda need the 12 years in between, the ‘missing’ years : from the end of year 12 to actually having her.

A yearly photo will fix all that. Where we can get dressed up in appropriately-themed yearly uniform, don our sporting cheesy smiles and get into position for a pose that when we look back, will tell us all we need to know about that year that was.

Showing Up when it’s Hard

I’d been struggling with a lot of things lately. Friday night I found myself tired, run down, feeling flat about the next few days, and depressed that I hadn’t written for a while. And it wasn’t my blog, or my journal that I was feeling down about. It was my main project, my book, the one that I actually need to knuckle down on, push my sleeves up, and get into the nitty gritty of. I’d been feeling uninspired for several weeks, and though I do, genuinely, always have something to do, the words ‘no excuses’ kept circling around in my head. These words made me angry at myself, because I knew it to be true.

I’ve written on my blog before that I find it hardest to write when I’m sad, or feeling down and depressed. I was so shitty with myself on Friday, that I decided to prove a point to myself, and I really wanted to get out of my funk too, despite the hard reality that when you’re in a hole, it’s really quite difficult to pull yourself out of it. It’s like looking for a rope to climb out of your hole from, only there’s no rope in sight, only mounds of dirt threatening to bury you.

I opened my laptop and journalled my angry thoughts for about 20 minutes. That purge seemed to help. Next I opened the Miranda Kerr book I’ve been getting through in times of much needed motivation: “Treasure Yourself.” I went through about 20 pages of motivational quotes and affirmations, before ending on one talking about taking advantage of the sunshine. I knew it was going to be a beautiful day the next day, and so I left it at that.

Then the most daunting of them all. I turned back to my laptop and opened up chapter 1 of my book, my second book in the series as it were, and re-read it, in the hope that some glimmer of inspiration, of a fantastic idea and great sprawling plan would start to eventuate and I would know how to progress my characters onto the next part.

And the most amazing thing happened. Ideas, scenarios floated into my head. I weighed up one, I weighed up the other. Words, thoughts, conversations started to roll… and I started to write.

An hour later and I was previewing the fact that I had doubted writing at all, and had instead ended up with just over 2 pages. And it wasn’t too bad.

I’m continually amazed at the power of the word. I know it can be very different for other writers, but so often when I think I’m not in the right zone, don’t have enough time, or am lacking the ideas, if I just ‘show up,’ the rest flows. A good 70% of my first book wrote itself. I just had to dedicate myself to sitting down long enough for it.

And I was so proud of myself. I’d been so down and out, and had all by myself, without any help or interference from anyone else, pulled myself out of it. Like the crippled donkey stuck in a hole, being buried by its owner for being disadvantaged, who took the soil being heaped upon him as stepping stones to make his way out, so I too, the proverbial donkey, found my way out by looking around me and asking ‘what can I do to help myself?’

Only you can help yourself. Don’t rely on anyone else for YOUR happiness.

Know you will have off days. Accept this, and live in the moment of being sad. IT’S OK to feel like this.

Don’t make yourself feel bad for not pursuing your goals, ALL of the time. You are only HUMAN. As long as you get back up, it’s fine.

Just SHOW UP. Showing up is more than half the work.

I’m really going to dedicate myself to moving my characters forward now. The writing bug has come back and I’m over the moon. If I’m not blogging, writing about food or reviewing books, it’s ok: I’m still here, reading Austen and eating out (though I’m probably re-visiting tried and true restaurants rather than new establishments). I just need to focus on this other (really important) part of my life now.

I never go far from the art of writing. It makes me happy, so it makes sense that I should do a lot of it.

As my coffee mug tells me: “Do what you love, love what you do.”