kitchen peace

It’s been a scratchy kind of week and I have been feeling decidedly out of sorts for a while now.

The Melbourne heatwave, the vagaries of adjusting to the Batsman being at primary school (I miss him so) and an unexpected emergency ride in an ambulance for the Captain (he is fine now), have left me feeling wrung out physically and emotionally.

On a long weekend with three hot days stretching out in front of me, I couldn’t really work out what to do that would make me feel better. Lunch with a dear friend on Saturday helped and a Sunday evening out with the boys to eat gelati was fun too. But by Monday, the peace felt elusive again.

The Captain picked all the last of our summer produce in the cool of the morning, packed up the kids and headed for the pool. Just me and the humming airconditioner remaining behind.

I began to chop the remainder of our summer tomato crop, a plan of a sauce unfolding. The sauce worked its way into a couple of other dishes and before I knew it I had chopped and simmered and seasoned my way to tomato sauce, some braised chicken, some Bolognese, vanilla egg custard for the boys and a big batch of passionfruit cordial.

And I felt peaceful. Cooking in my kitchen really and truly brings me peace. It’s just that in the flurry of life, I forget sometimes.

unwinding

I am not so good at unwinding from my stress.
It is a skill I am yet to master in my forty something years. 

One of my major goals for this year is to work on unwinding the knots. I want to carve out time for me, relish a little peace, find my well being and vitality and manage my (over) commitments. 

Weekends and short trips away are a part of that plan. Changes of scenery are so good for heart and mind. After the rigors of our big boy starting school then, the timing of Unblogged, the brainchild of Clairey Hewitt, was just perfect. 

We took our time, we lazed, we ate casually and the kids played. It was just beautiful.

In the very beautiful Halls Gap, unwinding was most certainly within reach. Thanks Claire and other “unbloggers” for lovely conversation and company. And Halls Gap, you are stunning. We will be back.

lunch on a friday

beautiful gardens

warm day

new friend

shared values

acknowledged realities

no bullshit

chicken sandwich

water bottle

mutual respect

and in the end, that's all there is.

It is 7am

She opens her eyes and they begin to burn and scratch.
Before the first thought has even entered her mind, she feels it.
The panic that presses her chest and wraps itself around her throat.
Still shocking yet familiar after all this time.
In the close distance she hears the kids awake and the breath in her lungs quickens, in and out.
The boys begin to bicker, softly at first and then louder.
A turf war escalating.
She knows that is her own heart she can feel, pounding like it is searching for a peaceful place to rest.
The hands of anxiety tighten around her torso.
Strong and unrelenting
Another day is beginning and she must face it.
She swings her legs around and sits upright, her feet hitting the carpet with a dull thud.
It is 7am.

I wrote this. I wrote it about me.
Somehow the words come out more easily if I write it like it's about someone else.
Someone else like me.
This is how anxiety sits in my world right now. Not on every day, but on many.
I am ok. I don't want any one reading this to be worried or heaven forbid, think that I am "not coping".
I am, mostly.

I am grappling with things on so many levels that it feels exhausting and overwhelming.
There are endings to grieve. Natural endings and lost potential.
There are beginnings and achievements to celebrate too. They are not forgotten in the maelstrom.
Fear and anticipation are present in some of the new.
Sadness is a companion and exhaustion loves the ride too.

I talk about this with some who are deeply trusted.
The talking helps, releases the pressure valve.
But in so many ways, the rationality of those conversations never quite matches the swirling internal dialogue of emotions. It's a wave. A wave of change where the swell rises and must break before the waters find the calm.

Image via we heart it

it's his turn

The Bowler was 6 months old when his big brother’s autism diagnosis came. 

He has lived his baby and toddlerhood with a house full of therapists, the juggling of appointments and schedules and parents who were often stressed and distracted. He has never known life without any of it.

Even with all the distractions, he has grown into an engaged, sometimes rowdy and loving little whirlwind. He loves life and he loves his family.

This year, his beloved big brother is off to school on his next adventure. The Bowler has an exciting year ahead too – he is beginning kinder and he is attending a pre-school sports program which he adores.

He will have a whole lot more time to hang out with his mum, to drink milkshakes and eat gingerbread in cafes, to run around without time limits in playgrounds and parks, to wander around the zoo and the museum.

After almost three years of being just a little in the shadow of his big brother and autism, it’s his turn.

It’s his turn.

words to live by after the everywhere and nowhere

I am everywhere and I am nowhere.

The end of the year came and went. So did Christmas and holidays, days melting together like some kind of stressed out lava. My head too cloudy to think of a coherently titled blog post.
Exhausted and anxious.
Everywhere and nowhere.

There was some rest in January. There was play and some cleaning out of all the extra stuff, both physical and metaphorical that has filled my world since the Batsman's autism diagnosis almost three years ago. Our home based therapy program is over and the Batsman is going to primary school. Eager, excited and ready. Me, not so much.
Everywhere and nowhere.

I'm marking time until school begins proper on Friday. Everything I have done in the last three years has been leading to here. I feel kind of numb. Empty. There is no one word or emotion that can describe how I am feeling.
Everywhere and nowhere.

I must carve a new path now. I must learn how to live without the intensity of daily home therapists, appointments and the utter crazy, chaotic and exhausting schedule of an ABA program at home. Never would I have thought I would miss it but somehow I do. I miss the structure, the sense of purpose, the adrenalin. I'm not sure who I am any more. I am about to go looking.
Everywhere and nowhere.

Lots of great posts were written in the near shadow of the new year. So many people had the clarity to pinpoint a word or a collection to be their talisman for 2013. I watched these posts with great interest and a little envy but for me, the words wouldn't come.
Everywhere and nowhere.

So I am here now, on the cusp of the year's second month and I have six words. Six words that I am going to work to live into this year.

Play and fun.

Balance and peace.

Fit and strong.

I will let you know how it goes.

Image via we heart it