Tag Archives: #life

Mental fright makes me write!

I have not written for a very long time. The weird but not so weird thing is, that my articulation peaks when my writing comes from a deep dark place of fear and angst. Maybe, that is why I am attracted and yearn for that place at times, where I am caught up in a whirlwind of mental anguish, when I am desperately crawling my way out, fingernails dirty and ripped from that pitch black hole of anxious panic. As in those times when I am raw, are the moments when I feel most alive, I can grab my humanity and inspect it, all up close and personal. At those times, my insides are worn on my outside and I am truly alive in its purest form. My soul is receptive to every stimulus it encounters, absorbing, processing, feeling. I am me at my most vulnerable and raw.

This last year, I have been happy, so so happy, but in a way I feel has dulled my creativity and expression. Yes, I have been saved by running, yes you can call me dramatic, but the highs of my running and the adrenaline coursing through my veins at the end of a long run or race or ultra marathon, has replaced the high of my anxiety. I have made new friends and I am finally beginning to find a greater number of people who think and feel and strive for what my heart desires. Yet, my ability to create and express has disappeared, It is like my happiness is a shield to my internal, to the darkest depths and to the core of what makes me Kelly, yes, sometimes I miss her. I crave her view on life.

I yearn for the pain on occasion, it is like I need to check my brain still feels and can create moments of a higher awareness, in tune with the energy waves around me, from others in pain, I want them to know I understand, I accept and I want to give them the energy that bubbles under my skin. Often clarity came to me in the moment of a panic attack, it was like the brain crushing fear, brought a moment of purest focus, where the world became 4D / HD and every detail and noise was so clear and bright it hurt. I can still create that when I run, those last 6 miles or a marathon or endurance run and my brain stills, the world gets silent but so sharp and it is just the energy of my muscles pushing faster and faster, my steady rhythmic breath – in and out and nothing hurts, everything is working together in harmony and I feel like this will never end and I don’t want it to and then exertion and pain slam down, muscles screaming, tiredness crashes on to me like a wave and I push through, chanting “I have fucking got this, one foot in front of the other, I have fucking got this, breathe and settle, breathe and settle” and once again the world is clear and my body moves on, it is almost like my feet are floating and I feel nothing but everything, simultaneously. I can not describe how that is the most wonderful feeling in the world.

I write to feel, I write to create my world, I write to share and I write for others. I write so you know it is OK to share, it is OK to be, as life likes to call it “mentally ill” and it is this what makes you the most wonderfully alive human being, open to life, working in harmony with nature and surviving.

It is for you I write and expose my deepest emotions, my crazy thoughts (PS I love crazy) and it is to you I share my humanity.

KJ.

Dreaming of a Sunday ?!?

AHHH my day today.. Sundays, a day of rest and relaxation. Supping coffee in a comfy chair with the sun dappling across the morning papers. Birds chirping in the trees as you do your Sunday meditation and yoga in complete silence. Maybe some lazy Sunday copulating with your significant other and a delicious,home cooked meal with a delightful glass of wine…

UM NO FUCKING WAY …. My day… I was woken up at 6am by a naked toddler, playing with his penis, demanding breakfast and shouting “I am HUNGRRRYYYYY”. coffee, was heated from the day before whilst I shovel my breakfast down to the 7 am whine, ” What do you mean no TV, man that sucks, and I’m so bored, this house is soooo boring”. My reply ” well best you go and find something to do”. While I put on 3 million loads of washing and clean the kitchen, make lunches for tomorrow and clear up the 6.30 am painting session you all decided to indulge in.

Then I have to put on my Sergeant Major hat, to conduct peace talks at least 20 times between a 9 and 6 year old as they repeatedly re enact “The Lord of The Flies”, ” other wise I may be watching “Armageddon” or “Fight Club”

Later I cringe under the back handed “you suck’ comments at our Sunday basketball, because I did not bring the right water bottle and I use all my strength and yoga will power to swallow down the wrath of mama building up inside. Instead I weep the whole way home in the car and march them to bed. As they apologise profusely and are heart broken that they have broken my heart by their inappropriate behaviour and rudeness to myself and our hostess….

Now I sit here with the much needed “that glass of wine” Ahhh at least something rang true to the ideology of the perfect Sunday.

The cracks of aging….

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what if the beholder is YOU? And you really hate the way you look?

Its common knowledge I had body issues. As a child I was deemed an ugly duckling, but that was probably because I had an emaciated body and a skull for a head as my mind and body was ravaged, then abused by Mrs Anorexia. Well I got over that, but I have always been very critical about the way I look. Yes I am shallow, as shallow as a puddle. you would never drown in my puddle.

When I was younger I always knew I was not ugly, but I was never comfortable in my own skin to truly love myself. So in classic style I used to seek approval about the way I looked. I did not care it could be male or female I just needed the reassurance that you thought I was pretty. I always needed new clothes, a different hairstyle, a new cool lipstick to chase the you are fucking ugly demons away, to shut that part of me down, that personality trait is a very ugly part of me.

I wish that I did not care. I wish so hard for that. But in a land where most of my friends are having Botox, lip fillers, boob jobs, its so very tempting to join in. To join the my forehead does not move crowd. Part of me would like to grow old disgracefully and not go down that route.

I have entered the 2nd year of my forties and shit its all going south, the crows feet are deeper (I would almost say a crow would be very jealous of these feet), yes I can affectionately call them laughter lines, but believe me, superficial Kelly really wishes she had not laughed quite so much. The deep crevices beginning to channel their way down the sides of my mouth, could almost be called a continental divide, fuck why did I have to smoke for 10 years of my life (because I loved smoking that’s why).

I drink coffee, I drank alcohol to excess in my twenties, occasionally in my thirties and the yearly reminder of why not to do this in my forties. I dabbled in narcotics and naughty white powders, danced in dark club’s until dawn and have still not had a full night sleep since having Rugrats All of which have eroded and broken my three layers of epidermis. Regretfully awesome, to have had so much damn fun that something had to give. Hey but I consume blueberries, spinach and avocados, they should fix the damage, right? Right?

Technology does not help my withering confidence and increasing hatred of looking in a mirror. As HD photography highlights every tiny crack in my face, I find myself refusing to smile, turning my head to show my better side, to always wear sunglasses to hide those eyes, oh those deep set eyes of mine, how I despise you. But I keep taking selfies (oh dreaded selfie) over and over again, take, delete, take, delete, hoping that it is not true that somehow a pretty picture will come out and I am 20 again. Now every picture is just revealing what I do not want to see or know. Aging is a process I cannot stop and have to embrace so hard that it becomes something I love and not battle against (or at least suffocate) How? Answers on a postcard please. Or a Whats app. Whatever works.

My bathroom cupboard is bursting forth like a vomiting “Rosemary’s baby” of anti wrinkle creams, hoping that each will reverse the inevitable or at least putty fill the current cracks. Sadly, mending my face is not mending the way I think and feel, or the huge break in my mind to get a grip of. I really need to get a grip. I am bloody old for Christ sake, I need to not actually give a shit. Old people never give a shit about anything.

My husband gets better with age, I just get worse. How does that even work?

Trawling through Instagram, I cannot believe these 40 plus year old celebs look so amazing, young and so so so beautiful. I want to be a stronger, better person, to figure out how to erase the ugly glasses at which I judge the physicality of my being. I may just have to stop wearing my glasses, I look better blurry. 🙂

My kids call me old, yes I am old, being old makes me sad, what makes me angry is that I cannot rise above the aging process and not give a flying fuck. The key has to be to live like a puritan, never use a mirror and to never go out in the sun. But is the aspiration of a sagging youth worth not having fun or experiencing anything ever again. No it is not. I am at a stalemate and I need to win.

Clearly I just need to drink more water, as this seems to be the answer for everything 🙂

Or grow a very long fringe.

Or ALWAYS have my hair tied back for a DIY face lift.

Or just bathe in Kale.

Or if you know a good plastic surgeon or have discounts on Botox, please give me a call.

8 miles

Today I ran 8 miles, this was the first long run of my current training plan. Boy did it suck. On paper it should have been a pretty easy run, due to the amount I currently run each week and my body is used to that distance.

Pull on my sneakers, fill up my bottles with water and Nuun electrolytes, earphones in and podcast on. Ready …

6.25 am, the sun is beginning to turn the sky pink , as it peeks above the horizon I step outside and SLAM the humidity hits me it’s like wading through a wet shower curtain that’s wrapped itself around my body and dragging me back. I start to run.

Legs are heavy and I’m sweating like a pig, water is running down my face and oh look that’s only mile 1 completed. Shit, I’m not sure I can do this, Ana Faris is jabbering in my ear, like a chipmunk on speed and I instantly hate her wanton cheerfulness scratching my ear drums. I turn her off. That’s mile 2 completed. 6 to go…..

BOLLOCKS I’m bloody dying here.

I grind it out as it grinds me down. Legs are like “twizzlers” my face a tomato and my body is soooo wet I look like I have been swimming in the ocean as salt collects under my arms..

Mile 8 – COLLAPSE, drag body through front door and am eye to toe with my naked 3 year olds feet.. “mummy why are you on the floor,” ” because mummy is fucking dying!?”

I’m not sure I enjoyed that 95F (real feel) run. No shit Sherlock .

“This week I will mostly be wearing very sweaty running gear.”

I was not going to write about the fact that I had decided to run a marathon. However, so many thoughts and ideas and perceptions were whizzing through my kid addled brain,  I needed to put them down and clear the buzz, to achieve optimal brain functionality. This is my daily purpose, to ensure I do not explode into a puff of whiz popping smoke. BOOM

I started running in October 2017, after not pulling on sneakers for such an enterprise in a good 20 years. Since then I have become stronger plus well and truly addicted to the steady beat of my feet pounding the tarmac, my breath pulling in and pushing out every three steps and the exhilaration / adrenaline coursing through my body at the end, It gives me complete and utter space to be alone like truly alone, just me and my body, drumming to my own beat, at my own pace. Intermingled with the nature around and the thrum of other humans, but never having to interact with them regardless to what is happening. I have listened to many hours of podcasts and learnt so much… “Did you know that in deep water a tsunami is moving at a pace of up to 300 miles per hour, but only has a 3m wave above the water (nuts huh?)”

Since October, I have managed to run two half marathons and a 25K trail run, with times I was pleased with as a newbie. So my love for running has well and truly been baptized and sealed within my heart. Therefore, last month, I decided I wanted to try to run a marathon (26.2 miles) hopefully in around 4 hrs (that’s my mental goal).

The trick is, I need to train, like really train, through a Florida summer and if you live here you know how brutal this will be. So now I have the added consideration of re hydration, nutrition, cross training and then trying to fit this all in with corralling three boys under 10 years of age to camp, school and activities, plus a little adventuring on top. Thank f@ck I am a morning person and by that, I can get up at 5.30 am to run a good 6 miles before the little beasties are up caterwauling for food, the blazing sun reaches its zenith and my husband leaves for work.

First stop – buy a book on marathon training, TICK, next stop  – START RUNNING a lot, but with a clear plan. I have given myself 4 months to train and I have chosen my marathon. I needed a small marathon (no Boston just yet :)) , with less people and not so much hype, minimal travel to get there, so I would not have to leave the kids and I could keep my anxiety levels to the actual event at a minimum.

Running is all very personal to each individual and I will be doing this marathon just for little ol me (how very selfish of you, people may say) I will not have a cause, just a point to prove to myself that I can physically and mentally do it. To seasoned marathon runners, this will be no biggie, but this is pretty big for me as I have never stuck to anything in my life, I usually get bored after about a month and I move on to the next challenge, leaving the last one hopelessly unfulfilled. Another reason to write this down, to make sure I stick with it. Its all about personal achievement and that is it, a very simple goal, achievable, needs minimal equipment and you can run absolutely anywhere.

Each week I have a training plan :-

Week one (this week) WC 18th June 2018

Sunday – Run 4 miles / Monday – rest / Tuesday – intervals = 4.5 miles / Wednesday – Swim (cross train) / Thursday  – 6 miles (2 easy 2 mid 2 easy) / Friday –  Spin (cross train) / Saturday  – long run 8 miles (easy pace)

So far so good – in the words of Nike “Just Do It” – well I will try at least, avoiding injury as best I can.

“This week I will mostly be wearing sweaty running gear” (Fast Show)

TO BE CONTINUED…………………..

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.’

It hit me like a thunderbolt, out of nowhere and straight to the heart.

It was like any other Wednesday, the sun was out, (we live in Florida it’s always out) my 3 year old K3 and I had decided on a playground adventure. Water and snacks were packed and off we go. The biggest decision we had to make that day, was which playground? We had no cares in the world, we just played, up the mountain, down the slide, I even have to squish my ass down one or two, we swung, we climbed, I pushed him on the merry go round and then I was on the merry go round, both of us singing and chatting and just being, just being Mama and son.

It was only as I was helping him navigate a slightly tricky climbing wall, that it smacked me so hard in the heart, that I wanted to crumble and cry hard, really hard. WTF this is my LAST baby, my last, last baby, in 2 years he will be in Kindergarten and off like his two older brothers and we will no longer have these mornings, together, alone, carefree and chatting, being, silly and running and whooping. I will be just solitary, just me, alone, OMG SOOOOOO ALONE. While he goes to take on the world, with each amazing and powerful stride. No more, will there be those pudgy arms around my neck, or the softness of his cheek against mine, whilst he whispers how much he loves me,  with that still tangible baby smell, faint but still recognizable and soothing. There will be no more playgrounds, early morning beach dates and adventuring, no excuses for me to swing on the swings as high as I can reach, with my little buddy beside me, or marvel at a bug as it makes its way across a table, with such enthusiasm and joy, such pure, unaffected joy and interest. No excuse to roar like a dinosaur as loud as we can and skip among the puddles, to scooter fast, whooping in unison, to just sit and watch him learn to hop and be so ecstatically happy as we dance to his achievement and shout “I’m a big boy”. Who can I make up silly songs for like ……

“Thunder Thunder, your so loud,  Thunder Thunder POOM POOM POW, Thunder Thunder, please be quiet, thunder thunder, SHHHHH be silent.”

To balance along walls, push the shopping cart really fast and then surf it back to the car and laugh out loud, to share all that with and he will be gone. Disappeared, sucked in by school and spat out an adult and I am left , sitting on a swing with no excuse to be there, to swing up to the clouds, whooping in delight. I’ll have no excuse to cart surf to the car, or dance in the aisles to a song we like in the store, they would probably call security or the police and call my adult son to take me home.

I am not only seeing my kids move on in this world and becoming the awesome men  I know they will become, but I’m seeing my freedom to really be, silly old me diminishing and fading, withering and dying. What do I become? Who do I become? Do I have to go back to work full time EEKKK, Its hurtling faster than I care to  like towards me like a steam train, ready to smash me into tiny pieces. The problem is how do I put these pieces back together. My core, is silly, fun loving and childlike. Please do not tell me to be an adult, kids are just a fabulous excuse, never to be one and that is leaving me and bloody becoming one.

I cannot begin to share how much my heart hurts knowing I’ll have no more babies in my home, I love babies, toddlers, so fresh, untouched and excited by the world. Yet I am 41, I cannot have any more babies, that would be carnage to my mind and body. So, I just need to wait patiently for Grand babies and lots of them, I did not have 3 boys for nothing and I can whip out the silly grandma dance and song, Oh man I cannot wait.

Anxie – tea and biscuits.

I wanted to share this – this picture is of me going through serious anxiety and repeated panic attacks. I look calm and together. Inside I am unraveling and panicking continuously. I think I am going to die… literally! and my mind is broken and fuzzy. The only thing that makes me keep some form of sanity are the kids. Today I have googled continuously the symptoms of a heart attack and any form of light that suggests I am ok? I know rationally it’s my anxiety and I need to breathe and focus and meditate and slow down. But when you are in a pit of overwhelming fear and confusion, it’s very hard to climb out. I can feel it lifting as I take those steps. But it will be a good week before I’m back to “normal”. I wanted to share this picture to show you, anxiety like any mental illness cannot be seen from the exterior. This is essentially a picture of me crumbled and destroyed and barely keeping my shit together… and you would never know. I don’t need sympathy but just an understanding that I am one of many and kindness is key to anyone struggling. #anxiety #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness

Flu, have an opinion?

With the current flu pandemic effecting most states, the topic of vaccinations and children, once again raises its head.

Whether you do or do not, get a trained medical professional to stick a needle into your kids arm or thigh and administer a clear (potentially life saving) liquid into your child’s tiny little body, that is your right to do so.  I have many friends who do not vaccinate and I have many friends who do.

It’s such a personal choice and we may not agree on each others choices, but its ours, we have to remember that. I vaccinate, my personal belief that, way over the idea of metals being placed in my kids bodies and the potential side effects, I would rather that, than them, getting flu or polio or some other eradicated, previously life threatening disease. You can tell me I am dumb or pour out some spiel from some study, by some person. But I will never not vaccinate, like I could never convince someone to vaccinate who has chosen not to. The fallacy or reality (as remember it has not ever been really proven) that they can cause autism is a chance I will (repeatedly) take if it saves my kids life and the life of a sick child or a child too young to be vaccinated. My eldest, which is common knowledge, has high functioning Autism. Was it his shots at birth that caused this, who the hell knows? Is it genetic, or the way he was born, we will never know? But, I feel he has a far better chance to best the odds if he ever gets sick, which currently he has not. He is brilliant and healthy.

The thing is I will vaccinate and take the supposed risks, as I believe there are far worse threats to my kids life, food dyes in food (banned in Europe) as its proven they cause hyperactivity and cancer. I will never ever let my kids drink a Gatorade, Froot loops, MnM’s – again my choice, my belief, my opinion, good or bad. My kids will always wear a bike helmet when they cycle, I avoid hard candy (coloring’s and choking threats) and the list continues.

We all do what is best for our children and we may never agree, but we must respect, I will always love a person for their hearts and kindness. You may believe in God, I believe in science. You may like Trump, I do not. You believe in the right to own a gun, I never will. I love you and and I may never agree with you, but I value your ideas and thoughts. As long as you are not a racist, chauvinist, a bigot or narcissist, I will always sit and wait for your side, your thought out idea and the argument for or against. I hope people can always do this and not be blinkered to shut down and push out friends for having opposing beliefs. It makes us unique. Listening, not accusing or shouting creates community and understanding, respect and kindness. I will always like/love a friend if they just have the ability to listen and not bombard, accuse or demean a thought or another person.

We all do our best by our children and our fear and love for them is what drives us to keep them happy, loved, well and safe. For me that is one thing and that includes a shot to the arm every year from Flu, to you that is not, to me that is science at its best, to you that is a money making machine. We will always beg to differ.

Beauty

Truly is in the eye of the beholder. We surely do not behold the beauty in ourselves, externally or internally. Women suck at liking themselves.

This evening I sat with 3 girlfriends, all unique, all beautiful in completely different ways and none of them could see it. Gorgeous smiles , kind hearts, rocking bodies, complete sexy packages and not one of them could see it and accept their awesomeness. What creates this self doubt and internal blindness. Society? Men? Religion? Other women? Who said beauty had to look a certain way? What makes that way beautiful ? I want to know? I want to see this perfection! Where is it? Who has it? All of us do? But none of us believe it see .,

It breaks my heart. That so much delight, is not beheld or loved by the person who owns it.

Why? and when will we find it? Secretly in our rooms when no one is watching? After taking 300 selfies to get the perfect shot, we’ve all done it?

Or never?

Or maybe?

But we need to see ourselves for what we are, The great, gross, beauty, banality of our being, accept, appreciate, not always love, but realize it is what makes us unique, one of a kind and no one else has this. It’s special and crazily wonderful.

For Cat ❤️

Aging

Age is but a number? Sure! 

But I’m struggling with my age. It does not help that someone asked me if I was K3s grandma (WTF – I almost punched him) and K1 said “mummy even though you are old, you don’t look old.” I’m not sure if I should kick him or hug him tight.

40 is not old people. It is not even Middle Aged just yet.