Posted in Writing tips

When things are shit don’t get too shitty.


When things are shit don’t get too shitty.

I know, right! It’s not like me to use profanities. I barely have my male characters uttering any. Okay, ‘shit’ isn’t as bad as ‘f#@!!’ and others but there are times a little swearing is necessary. Hell yeah!

When you go through tough days you may need to let off some steam. Yell it, cry if you need to, but somehow get that bottled up frustration out. In doing so, don’t get so shitty you lose sight of getting past the moment. Temper tantrums are only for two-year-olds who lost their dummy.

As my youngest son said (only last night). “You have to weather some storms before you can appreciate the sunshine.” Wow! Perhaps he has a career in philosophy, I think as I tap my lips. My insightful son is full of gems like that.

I’m not one to complain, even when life isn’t sunshine and butterflies. Positivity brings positive things (well eventually anyway. Hang in there). Everything happens for a reason, be it a lesson, a change of direction, not your time yet, bigger better things; and you usually don’t know the reasoning until later. It may seem that your problems are never-ending but they rarely are.

“There’s always light after the darkness,” as my enlightened friend Kerry the Healer says.

In my case, our families (so-called) bad luck began soon after my father in law passed away. It felt like this wonderful, kind, generous, compassionate man’s spirit took with it our family joy. Being sad seemed to send us curve balls we weren’t willing to catch; stolen property, ill-health, lack of work, and more; all seemed to smash our resilience.

But here’s the thing. We talked, swore, cried and then quickly turned back to a positive mind frame, always convincing ourselves something wonderful was on our horizon. Suddenly, things turned again. Good news appeared from nowhere and I appreciated the sunshine and butterflies once again.

Things that got our happy groove back:

  • Appreciate what you do have, not what you don’t
  • See as many sunrises, sunsets and moonrises as you can (even a blood moon if you wake early enough)
  • Swear if it helps (but not in front of children or the elderly)
  • Cry (a phone call to Mum can do that)
  • Smell nature, walk in it, appreciate the beauty
  • Turn negative thoughts to positive ones (e.g. Cars are stolen to change your course)
  • Turn the music up loud (I love Spotify) and dance
  • Keep a journal (if you like writing. This would not work for my husband)
  • Slow down, breath deeply and exercise (gently if necessary)
  • Don’t verbalise every worry (keep your circle of confiders close)
  • Talk upbeat alternatives through with your partner
  • Smile (it’s contagious)

Here are some positive images to make you feel good:

Facing north, early morning, Kirra Beach, Surfers Paradise in the distance.
Sunrise over the Pacific Ocean at Kirra Point, Queensland, Australia.
Sunrise over the Pacific Ocean at Kirra Point, Queensland, Australia.
Blood Moon 27th July 2018, from Elanora Qld (iPhone not camera is why the quality is bad).
Two nights after the Blood Moon, moon setting 91% full.
Two nights after the Blood Moon, moon setting 91% full.
Close up of moon setting 91% full, west of Elanora, Qld.
Close up of the moon setting 91% full, west of Elanora, Qld.

 

Posted in Family life, Happiness, Women's issues

Dear Dad I wish you were still here


Dear Dad,

I wish you were still here. I know it’s been a long time (30 years in fact) but I still miss you almost every day. As I do most years, I took a flower to the beach and thought of you. This year I drew a heart and 80 and placed the hibiscus in the middle. It is after all your 80th Birthday today. It’s such a shame you couldn’t have shared the spectacular sunrise with me. It’s even more of a disappointment that you didn’t get to wake to any of the sunrises of the last 30 years. Today’s was particularly beautiful, as if nature had painted me a perfect picture to remind me that you’re still here in some way.

I guess it’s okay that you may sometimes return as a sunrise, rainbow, an owl, a song that skips (like an old record) or just a wisp of my hair (I’m sure you’re touching me). But let’s face it I’d rather you were physically here. I miss your arms around me and that smell of you that is only you, male musky and a hint of cigarettes. I wonder what you’d be like at 80 years old. A handsome old man with grey-blue eyes shining through an aging face, filled with laughter lines. I’d like to think that the laughter could have returned to you.

Currumbin Alley, Gold Coast

You would have been a wonderful grandfather and great-grandfather. You denied yourself that privilege but you also denied the kids. Just imagine the richness of them having you in their lives. You would have been the grandfather with lots of patience and words that may have been few, but always wise and kind. The hugs you would have received from them all would have cheered you right through old age. I know that didn’t happen. I wish it had of.

Sunrise Currumbin Beach, Qld, Australia
Sunrise at Currumbin Beach 18th April 2017.

I’m now three years older than when you left. Imagine me older than you. It’s weird. It’s also odd to be thinking that you’ve been gone for so long, but sometimes you still feel so vivid to me. This morning at the beach I pictured your smile exactly how it was. When I got home I pulled the photo from my wallet and scanned it for this post. You’re squinting a little but you look happy and I like that. I just imagine you happy. So Happy 80th Birthday Dad. I love you so much.

Sunrise Currumbin Beach, Qld, Australia