It’s Just a Little Crush

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I had my first crush on a boy at the tender age of four. His name was Stephen. He was the cutest little boy and would pick daisies for me on the way to Kinder and present them to me in front of everyone. He would embarrass the absolute shit out of me but secretly I loved the attention. After that year ended, I never saw him again and my little four-year old heart was broken.

Primary school saw a few more little crushes but none that really affected me too much.

High school is where things got way more intense. I had a crush on my best friend’s brother for about two years. Robert was a year older than me and he was the bee’s knees. I followed him around the school like a bad smell. My friends were all in on it and would keep me updated regularly on his whereabouts. One day I headed to the back of the school as he had been witnessed hanging around there. When I arrived I saw him kissing a girl from his year level. My soul was crushed. I don’t think to this day I have ever felt such total devastation. I felt the worst form of betrayal. I was sick to my stomach for days and couldn’t even consume food. I was so utterly disgusted in him that I could not even look him in the eye. It took me a while to get over that but eventually I composed myself and was able to carry on with life.

Over the next year or so we became friends, well I guess you could call it that. He would sometimes walk with me and my friends to the train station and sometimes he would even catch the train with us. These times were by far the best of my life.              

I think he started to catch on to my intense crush on him and like most men to follow, decided to fuck with my brain and my heart.

All of a sudden he became quite touchy, feely. He would put his arm around me or put me in a head lock and once he even shared his drink with me. I was so totally obsessed.

This went on for some time. At one stage there was even a rumour going around that he liked me. HOLY SHIT!! I think the day I heard it I died for a few seconds or at least had a stroke.

This went on until one day Robert caught the train with me home from school. He sat opposite me. For the first ten minutes he stared into my eyes. I knew I was burning up and probably the colour of beetroot but I didn’t care. This was going to be the moment that he declared his undying love for me. We were going to get married and I was going to have his children and we would live together, happily for ever and ever and ever.

So many fantasies were playing in my head. The moment was coming, I could feel it with every fibre of my being. The way he was looking at me left no doubt whatsoever. He was going to say the words I had been so desperately dying to hear.

At that moment, he opened his mouth and said my name. I legitimately almost pissed my pants with excitement. He leaned forward, motioning me so subtly to do the same. I reciprocated trying to control my breathing. He got very close to my face and seductively licked his lips. All that was running through my mind was fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… he is going to kiss me. I had never kissed a boy before. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate. I closed my eyes and begged myself to calm the fuck down. I didn’t want to blow this amazingly awesome moment that was about to happen. When I opened my eyes he was smiling at me and he lent a tad further. OK this is it I told myself. My lips parted, my heart was racing a million miles per hour. He leaned in a bit more and said “You have a moustache”. Then be burst into laughter.

And I wonder why I’m so fucked up. Needless to say I jumped off at the next station and walked and cried the whole way home. When I got home I waxed my moustache and cried some more.

I avoided him like the plague after that and eventually he left school.

Finally I grew up and stopped the crushing nonsense. Or so I thought.

Just recently I think it has happened to me again.

The concept that I have a crush at my age is actually destroying my brain. I’m too old for this crap but it is happening and I just can’t seem to stop it. I have all the classic symptoms, nervous sweats, inability to string a sentence together around him, stumbling over my own feet, literal freak outs when I see him and the increase of hyperventilation. I am actually fucking appalled at myself because this guy is a bit of a wank job but it just doesn’t matter how much I pep talk myself, I see him and turn into a strange noise muttering, maniacal, blob of shit.

I have even gone to the point of hiding like a ninja from him. I’m a fucking grown ass woman and I hide to avoid him seeing me. When did my life take such a devastating downward turn?

I guess one thing has changed though. My life experience has taught me a few things and I think if this guy was to tell me I have a moustache, I would punch him square in the face and he would be the one crying.

I am sure this will pass and it is just a silly phase but until then I will develop my ever evolving ninja skills, continue deep breathing, practice stringing a sentence together or at least two syllables and try not to trip over my own feet when he is in a five metre radius of me.

Fuck. My. Life.

Sophia x - signature

Social Media – The Death of Trust

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These days, social media forms a large basis of people’s lives. In the way that they communicate, the way they keep in touch with the world and in the way they keep tabs on other peoples lives.

I feel like technology has moved quicker than our consciousness has and we aren’t emotionally equipped yet to deal with the information overload that comes with social media.

Almost every platform now has the ability for private message, thus no longer needing to trade phone numbers. With adding someone on a social media platform you have the ability to look and gain a feel for that person’s life before even deciding to communicate.

I for one have always been very hesitant to give out my phone number. I have had the same number since I was 18 and I don’t want to have to get to a point where I have given it to the wrong person, therefore having to change it. So for me, social media is a fantastic starting point. If I come across someone annoying, the block function becomes my best friend.

This has its advantages as you can begin to gauge the person’s lifestyle and interests and from there discover a common ground. The ability to view mutual friends is also another major advantage.

I personally believe that the initial start-up of a relationship via social media is a smart way to go about it. The disadvantages come later, once the relationship is flowing.

I am across pretty much every social media platform. I have made it my business to learn the capabilities of any form that I have an account attached to. This is because I am very intrigued with it all and how it is affecting society. I grew up in an era where this was non-existent. I was almost at the end of my secondary education when we first got the internet at home. Social media exploded when I was in my early twenties and I was hooked immediately. I found it utterly amazing and a fantastic way to stay in touch with friends and family.

But I also discovered that social media also has another side to it, the ever-present stalking side.

We now have the ability to access an array of information about a person and this can become detrimental to a relationship.

We are at a point in society where relationships aren’t as strong and long-lasting as they once were. This is due to the fact that we are more conscious of our own happiness and although we want to find that ONE person to spend our lives with, we are constantly striving for bigger and better things. We no longer feel the need to put up with shit because as everyone says: ‘there are plenty of fish in the sea’. If this current fish is no good, we will find another. Too often we believe that the grass is greener elsewhere and perhaps don’t put in as much effort to grow the grass in our own backyard.

For some people this will leave a string of broken relationships and a severely altered and fragile emotional state. A lot of these severed relationships end because of some form of betrayal, in many forms, on either part. This tends to fuck up the bit of the brain where trust is held allowing ill-informed or basically stupid decisions to take place. One of these stupid decisions is using social media platforms to keep tabs on or stalk your significant other.

If you are a part of the broken portion of society, you will meet someone, you will add each other on which ever social media platform you choose. Communication will flow and you will exchange numbers. The texting starts only, all of a sudden they do not reply in an acceptable amount of time. You then jump straight online and see that they are in fact online or they have been in the last few minutes. First thought is ‘mother fucker can go online but can’t reply to my text’. I wont lie and say that has never happened to me. Many times my ex boyfriend would text me in the afternoon saying sorry that he hasn’t spoken to me all day but work has been hectic. I’d only noticed that he had been online majority of the day. So you got time for that but not to see how my day is going? It is so pathetic when you think about it but that is how we have evolved because we now have access to that information so easily.

From there the stalking gets a bit deeper. Using an additional platform you start to check who’s pics they are liking and God forbid they like some random bitches selfie. You have the internal battle with yourself because you don’t want to start shit by bringing it up but you can’t help thinking WHY, why would he like that bitches selfie? The why turns into ‘they must be fucking’ because, lets face it, why else. Gone is the logical thinking. Irrationality becomes the norm.

That brings me to a very popular platform. The one with the ability to send a pic knowing it will disappear after the allocated time.

Clearly this was created with dick pics in mind. Why would you take a picture and send it to someone knowing they can only view it for a few seconds unless it is of your genitalia?

Years back when you had the ability to view people’s best friends I had a moment where I lost my shit. My ex and I would send a few pics here and there, nothing too exciting but one day I noticed that I wasn’t number one on his top friends list, another female was. I almost had a stroke when I saw it. I lost my fucking mind which ended up turning into a massive fight. He promised it was innocent but I never forgot about it.

Now with the addition of Nearby Friends on the most popular platform you can see how far away in kilometres someone is… having that ability can be so detrimental to ones mental health. I fear with future updates and a multitude of new platforms we will slowly turn into a trust-less and paranoid society even more so than what we already are.

As much as we do not want to be checking up on others, especially those we are in a romantic relationship with, it has become too easy. The temptation is one that is hard to ignore. Our choice is to either learn to ignore it or be emotionally stable enough to have complete trust in another being.

One thing is for sure, the next person I choose to be in a relationship with better have been living in a cave prior to meeting me, and not even know what the internet is if we are to have a happy and healthy relationship.

Sophia x - signature

Fate or Asshollery

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Throughout life we will all be faced with challenging situations. Some will lead to greatness, some will teach you valuable lessons and some will leave you thinking What The Fuck???

Once upon a time I wholeheartedly believed that everything happened for a reason but these days I am much more of a skeptic on that subject.

The last few months have been difficult and very trying on my soul. Shit, life altering situations have occurred, people have come in and walked out of my life and I have been faced with challenges. I do not feel that any of what has happened recently has led me to greatness nor do I feel I am any wiser or have learnt any life lessons but I have said and thought What The Fuck on an almost hourly basis.

I have began to ponder the notion that perhaps things don’t happen for a reason. Maybe there is no predetermined course to lead us towards some ordained grand destiny. Maybe things happen because sometimes people are assholes and sometimes you just happen to get caught up in their asshollery. Sometimes there are no lessons to be learned, just shit luck to deal with.

I’m starting to see that our belief of fate is just a coping mechanism for us to be able to come to terms with the shit that gets thrown at us and so we don’t have to come to the realisation that shit happens for no reason other than some people are assholes who like to shit on everyone around them, not for any particular reason except that they can.

Looking at my life and because it is the only thing I can really comment on, I can truthfully say majority of what has happened hasn’t really happened for any particular reason or lead to another turn of events that has proven otherwise to me.

I was previously someone who looked and thought so much into everything and tried to make sense and have an understanding of all the situations that have occurred. I feel as though this sense of thinking and living has helped to contribute to the bullshit as I talk myself into believing that this situation is happening for a reason or this person has entered my life for a reason. I will then focus on the signs; more like coincidences that force me to believe that what I am thinking; more hoping is correct and I will then believe I am on the right path.

Let us take look at a recent situation that I have dealt with… my relationship ending because of lies and betrayal. Did this happen for a grander reason or just that he is an asshole and I just happened to be the unlucky person to be caught up in that. If it was for a grander reason what did I get out of it? Yes, it is a blessing because I would never want someone with characteristics like that in my life but then why did it happen in the first place?

I poured blood, sweat and tears… so many tears, into that relationship, I put up with so much crap because I loved him, for what exactly? Did I learn anything? Honestly no. This has not made me any wiser. It has only made me bitter and untrusting of everything and everyone. All of it was absolutely pointless and a complete waste of my time. This situation did not serve me in any way so this could have not possibly happened for any other reason than I just happened to get caught up in some asshole’s asshollery.

Now on to another example… through a professional encounter I once met a man. I will admit I did initially fancy the look of him and throughout the half hour conversation I did wonder what he looked like under the suit he was wearing. Seeing as I am human I think this is pretty normal.

After leaving the meeting, I didn’t give him another thought. But he clearly thought about me.

The weeks after that were filled with phone calls, text messages and the like, all initiated by him. I did begin to fancy him on more than a physical level but the situation was complicated as I was in a relationship at the time.

Due to us both working on a project together we were having to see each other on a very regular basis. I honestly thought once this project was complete I would not see him or speak to him again and he would just be forgotten. I put this down to a phase.

I conversed with him more than anyone else around that time. I became so comfortable with him so quickly and confided so many personal things to him. He was so caring and sweet and really looked out for my wellbeing. Slowly I began to look at the signs and come to the conclusion that he had stumbled into my life for a reason. It was too odd that this random person would walk into my life and make such an impact. If soul mates were a thing, we would have been it. It just blew my mind that we understood each other and had so much in common. I felt that we were so compatible in so many ways.

We remained fairly close and in time my complication disappeared. We began to pursue the prospect properly and see where it would lead.

Again, the fucking signs and belief of fate took over. The more I thought about it the more I realised that this person ticked all the boxes and although there were a few things I was a bit unimpressed with, they were overshadowed by the things I was super impressed with. I thought things were coming along quite well. Until I stopped hearing from him the 25 times a day that I had become quite accustomed to. Within a couple of weeks, the contact had dwindled down to one text message and within a few days from that it had become no contact at all. From the lack of contact, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that something was amiss. I over analysed the situation as I do so very well and still couldn’t work out what I had done wrong or what had gone wrong. I was angry because I hadn’t pursued him in the slightest, he had pursued me. I eventually asked the question and was told he basically just wasn’t feeling it. I found it very odd that a person can go from hot to cold so quickly. Clearly someone else had caught his eye or the chase wasn’t as exciting anymore. Regardless, the entire situation had become pointless. Why would someone randomly come into my life, blow my mind and then fuck right off? And so, that was that, something I had honestly believed had so much purpose, done in the blink of an eye.

Again I pose the question, what was the reason this happened? Did I learn anything? Am I a better person for it? Fuck no. Just another instance of being caught up in someone else’s asshollery.

Many years ago I met a man, he was gorgeous, successful and so very into me. He charmed me and had me floating on air. He would take me out to the most fantastically romantic places and we would have the most amazing conversations. One night whilst in his bed, encased in his arms we began talking about our most favourite things. It was like a dream, something you read about in books. He turned towards me and looked deep into my eyes and told me that he thought I was the one. All of a sudden he jumped out of bed and ran over to the window and proceeded to move the curtains aside to peek outside. I asked what he was doing and he explained that he had heard a car. I was a bit confused… he lived on a street with a road, cars do drive on roads…

He then turned to me and said he had something to tell me. My heart sank. He sat on the bed beside me and explained that he had a girlfriend but he didn’t like her and wanted to break up with her but he didn’t know how to.

For fuck sake, who does that?? Of course I left and ignored his phone calls and messages until he got the point and left me alone. What The Fuck!!!

What did I learn? For what grand reason did this happen? Am I a better person for it? Fuck no.

The sad thing is I could go on and on with pointless experiences that have served absolutely no purpose. The only thing that each of the situations have caused is bitterness, pain and a severe form of lost self-esteem and confidence. I am now at a point where I can no longer allow myself to feel anything for anyone. These idiots that have come into my life from absolutely no where solely just to fuck with me have taken the sense of fun and excitement out of that part of my life. I have no faith, trust or energy for this bullshit anymore. I am done.

So in conclusion there have been no valuable life lessons gained, no greatness achieved and no purpose fulfilled. It has all just been instances where I have been the subject of another asshole’s asshollery.

For now, I will continue to shake my head in bewilderment whilst whispering What The Fuck?? to myself every hour, on the hour until something proves me wrong.

Sophia x - signature

Any Man Can Make a Child…

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But that does not make him a Father.

Turning ten years old was something I had been looking forward to for about ten years. To me it was such a milestone. I would no longer be a little girl but well on my way to being a woman. It is very entertaining to recall the thoughts you had as little person.

The months leading up to my tenth birthday had been fairly tough for my family. My biological father had decided that he didn’t want to be a dad anymore to the three most awesome humans on the planet so he left… the country… probably to ensure we could never find him again. At this point I was almost ten, my sister was seven and my brother was three. My mum made sure that I was still to get the tenth birthday party I had been dreaming about my whole life.

The party was amazing. I had a few friends sleeping over and we sang and danced to Ice, Ice Baby and Informer by Snow well into the night. We had the whole upstairs area to ourselves to make as much noise and giggle like little school girls (because that is what we were) to our hearts content. I didn’t really think about the fact that I didn’t have a dad anymore because my mum was always playing both parts.

Due to financial difficulties we had to relocate into a smaller dwelling. Months after, the wooden plank fence surrounding the property began to collapse. My mum, after looking through the local paper, found a carpenter that could fix the fence for her.

Now, at the time I didn’t know that the man who had come to fix the fence had fancied my mum and had asked her out on a date. I found out a lot of this information much later. From what I have been told, they went out on a date, found that they got along really well and had a few more subsequent dates from there.

I recall meeting him one night before they were heading out. My aunty was looking after us. I remember coming into the lounge room and he was sitting there talking with my aunty whilst waiting for my mum to be ready.

I did not like him at all. I wanted nothing to do with him and I’m pretty sure I made that extremely clear to him. Who did this guy think he was? Taking my mother out on a date! I decided I would have to put a stop to this.

A few days’ later mum sat me down to talk about this situation. I was not having a bar of it. I told her that I didn’t want her seeing him. She asked why and of course I had no logical answers. It just made me feel terrible inside knowing that my mum was with another man. I was so shitty about the situation but my mum had requested that I spend a bit of time with him and if I still didn’t like him she would end the relationship. Fantastic! All I had to do was spend the day with him and tell her at the end of it that I didn’t like him and it would all be over! What a grand plan. I was almost eleven at this point and honestly thought I was the most intelligent person around. Never once did it occur to me that she might really like this guy. I couldn’t see beyond my own selfishness.

The grand plan day arrived. I was to assist him in fixing a cabinet at home. I did what was asked and answered the questions he asked with as little words as possible, all along thinking about how I was going to end the relationship. After we finished that he asked if we could go out for pizza. I was onto his plan. This man was going to learn quite quickly that I couldn’t be bought with pizza! So we went and had pizza and then gelato. By the time we got back I had laughed a few times at some of the things he had said and I had managed to answer questions using more than one word.

Over the next few weeks I began to look forward to assisting him with projects around the house. He taught me how to use power tools and those skills have stayed with me.

My brother and sister adored him straight away but they were too young to understand any different. I still had my reservations on the matter but seeing my mum so happy made me realize that I had to give this man a chance.

Over the course of the next few months the one thing that stuck out is the time and patience he had for us. He never made us feel like we were annoying which I am sure at times we totally were.

It was shortly after that, on our first Father’s Day with him that the three of us kids made him breakfast and hand wrote a card. In the card we asked if it would be ok to call him Dad. I for one was so nervous to hand the card over. What if he says no? I had grown to really appreciate him and enjoyed having him around. That kind of rejection would really hurt. I eventually conjured up the strength to pass the card over. He read the card and cried. From that moment on, he was our dad.

A couple of years later, my parents sat us down to tell us that we were going to have another sibling. At this point I was thirteen. I was excited but also very scared. We were not his flesh and blood. This new addition would be. What if we were forgotten or treated differently? What if I didn’t feel the same connection I felt with my other siblings? It was nine months of anxiety waiting for this baby to be born and determine the rest of our lives.

Towards the end of June that year, my mum went into hospital and returned with a baby boy. He was absolutely beautiful and at almost fourteen years old I felt like a mini mum. I would hang out to feed him and change him and rock him to sleep. This little bundle of joy made us become even more of a family.

My parents have now been together for twenty-two years. My dad has been there for all of us through all the good times and bad times. He has been there to pick up the pieces when our realtionships fall apart (mainly mine) and comfort us when life doesn’t go to plan. He has been there to celebrate the wins in life and always encourages us to follow our dreams. He has supported us financially, emotionally and mentally throughout the whole time he has been in our lives.

Now seeing him as a Grandfather to my daughter, it has shown me that it takes a particularly special kind of person to do as my dad has done. The bond he has with my daughter is beautiful. He would do absolutely anything for her and she loves him with all of her heart.

My dad is amazing. He took on three children and worked hard to ensure we had everything we could ever want. He makes my mum happy and together they have achieved so much.

Never once, in all the years, were the three of us ever made to feel any different. Realistically we are not his biological children but it is something that never crosses our minds. If anyone ever asks about the family, my dad has always mentioned the four of us kids. In his mind, he has four children and in our minds, we have one father.

I am forever grateful that our fence was falling down and he was the one my mum called to fix it.

I feel extremely lucky to have two wonderful parents and three siblings who I love equally. We have an unbreakable bond.

Any man can make a child, but it is the one that is present and loves and cares for his children that makes a father. And I have the best father in the world.

We love you Daddy.

Sophia x - signature

An Unexpected Direction

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What you never imagined could happen in a million years can actually happen in a millisecond and turn everything you thought you knew to shit.

Four weeks ago I came across some information that did just that. I learned that the person I had been in a relationship with for almost four years was someone I didn’t even know and was capable of doing things that no one would ever have expected or imagined.

Initially the anger took hold of me and I ended the union. There was so much rage directed at him and the situation and that rage overshadowed any other feeling. I haven’t yet been able to feel upset or sad at the betrayal because I just can’t. People are free to make their own choices, even if it is at the expense of others.

Our relationship was one of so much struggle and the energy it took to remain together was something that eventually had broken me. The last few months together were miserable. I can’t even remember the last time I had told him I loved him. There were a few incidences throughout our relationship that had made me question the person I had fallen in love with. I had lost respect for him and I didn’t know how to fix it. I had just found myself at a point where I was so emotionally and mentally drained that I had literally shutdown. I had nothing left to give. I believe I had been subconsciously mourning the death of the relationship whilst being in it.

So within an hour of me learning of this information, we parted ways. There was no apology and no compassion. It wouldn’t have changed anything anyway but it might have been nice to know that I meant something in the time we had shared together.

That day I had to conjure up the strength to explain to my daughter that she was never going to see him again. That was pretty hard but she is a tough cookie and she understood, as best as a five year old can understand. She believes I made him leave because he didn’t clean the toilet. Oh to be five again.

She still asks about him and asks if we can visit him but I’m sure that will pass. I have made a point of being super, duper happy and positive around her which really is not much different to how I am feeling anyway.

I find that the people around me are waiting for me to break or cry and scream but it won’t happen. Behaving that way will not achieve anything. On one hand I am actually grateful that it happened when it did and how it did. It was a clean break without the mess of crying, begging, heartfelt apologies and the empty promise of change. On the other hand, my ego has been slightly bruised but I’ll be ok. There is still a little bit of anger but more so because I have wasted precious time.

This is life, as I am told… repeatedly.

The hardest part has been seeing friends and family and having to deal with the questions. I actually hate talking about it. Speaking about the situation just brings back the anger and makes me feel like shit for a while. I have been avoiding some social gatherings because I seriously cannot deal with anyone asking about it. I know this will get easier but for the moment I just need to not put myself in that situation.

My friends and family have been very supportive and although they are still in shock, they help with boosting my self esteem and confidence. I am grateful that I am surrounded by so many beautiful people who care so much about my wellbeing and mental state.

I have not been accustomed to being alone and it has been quite an adjustment. The nights when my daughter is at her Dad’s house have been a little bit strange. I have found myself sitting around and thinking a lot of the time, not about him or the situation but more about what I should be doing with my life, where I want to be and how to get there. For a while there, due to the miserable state I was in, I had lost all motivation, inspiration and drive. I had totally forgone my goals and aspirations. This just added to the misery.

Four weeks on, I have a new sense of motivation, I realise that my life was being held back by a person who had no aspirations or life goals. I am now free to pursue anything I want in life and know that it is purely and entirely up to me and me only. It is a nice yet scary feeling.

I have never been one to let unfortunate situations get me down and I am not about to start. I will embrace this change and focus on creating an amazing life for me and my child. I have an overwhelming feeling of weightlessness which proves that this is a positive step in my existence.

Life is once again exciting and uncertain. I have grasped the notion that anything is possible and that I control my destiny and no one else.

Even after this very unfortunate experience, I still haven’t given up hope that one day someone will enter my life and just love me for who I am and will want nothing more than to build an amazing life with me and my daughter. No bullshit, no games and no lies. Here’s hoping.

Sophia x - signature

 

A Time For Change

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It has finally happened.

I have had to take a good, hard look at myself, my lifestyle and my mental state and make a change.

I have been so sick, with what started off as the flu and has just never fully left my body. I am going on the ninth week now and I’m officially sick of being sick.

After about the first 6 weeks the painful coughing, headaches and congestion had subsided and I felt fantastic, for about a day, then I got sick again. I know that my getting sick is all due to the amount of stress I am put under and the stress I put myself under.

The stress of raising a daughter who I am constantly worrying about; am I raising her right, will she be scarred by me leaving her father when she was only a baby, will she resent me, is the custody arrangement affecting her, why are meal times so difficult, will she be bullied, will she meet the right man, will she live a fulfilling life and so on. Any parent can understand. I stress, worry and think about her every second of my life. I know most of the things I worry about are totally irrational and I know that whatever life throws her way she will never deal with it alone. Nevertheless, the worrying and stress never subsides. It is times like this that I totally understand and appreciate my Mum and her crazy, unrelenting worry about us kids.

The stress of my very demanding job; managing 40 staff, constantly motivating, training, coaching, hiring, firing, meeting targets, conducting meetings, running reports, collating figures, it takes a toll. My job doesn’t end. EVER. I am on call all of the time, I am checking figures all of the time, I am strategically planning ALL of the time. It is mentally draining.

The stress of running a household and being a friend, councillor, motivator and lover to my partner. Making sure the clothes are washed and dried, the house is respectable, my daughter has everything ready for school, Jon is happy and stress free, trying not to bring my work frustrations home (which on some days is nearly impossible), trying to make time to maintain my friendships, worrying about our financial status, maneuvering funds around to afford bills, food, lifestyle etc. stressing about our future, trying to plan our future, do we even have a future? It is overwhelming.

I have become well aware that the way I have been living and thinking is not only very unhealthy but very detrimental to my well being and everyone else around me. I have lacked the energy most days to perform the basic of tasks. The only thing that has driven me is that I know shit needs to get done. If it wasn’t for the child, the job and the household, I probably would have lived my life from my bedroom.

I have slowly come to the realisation that this is not what I want my life to be.  Lately I have been in the presence of people that are so energetic, lively and positive. These people have not a worry or stress in the world. Most of the time I just want to punch them in the face. More so because I want to be like that. I so badly want to be that person. Happy.

This has caused me to question my life, question where I want to be, how I will get there and how I want to feel about it.

The main hindrance I have found is the ease in which I get caught up in the negativity of life. Especially turning on the TV and watching the news or even logging on Facebook. There just seems to be so much sadness, despair, horrible acts, death and drama. I have made a conscious effort as of late to switch off from all of that. Mainly because I tend to take the negative feelings on. I can feel terrible for days about something that has happened to someone I don’t even know; in a place I have never been to. I guess it is not a bad trait but these feelings of dread, grief and sadness are not serving me. For someone who has been plagued with anxiety for a long time, any negative thought or experience, my experience or someone else’s, tends to manifest into the biggest drama ever known in my own mind.

I am even at the point of slowly eliminating toxic and negative people from my life. If I want to change my views, my mindset and my life, not only for my benefit but for those around me, I need to look after ME, my well being and my mental state.

Being a mum, a partner, a boss, a friend and a councillor takes up so much energy, physically, emotionally and mentally. So if I can’t be all those things and also be focused, energetic and positive, everything will eventually come crashing down. I know this is something so many of you can relate to. It is so easy to feel overwhelmed at times, under so much stress that the only solution to get through it is to just pack your shit and run away.

If you have had that thought process trust me, you are not alone. I strongly believe it starts and ends with you. You need to understand and appreciate what you are doing, how you are enriching the lives of those around you and how much they need you. But this in no way means that you should forget about yourself.

Have you ever stopped and asked yourself ‘what do I want?’

We all get so caught up in what everybody around us needs and wants that we tend to forget about ourselves. We slowly lose who we are and put ourselves at the end of the queue. We are no longer a real person with hopes and dreams. We become the train that takes everyone else to their destination, while we are left emotionally, physically and mentally drained at the station. Why can’t we be all of that but at the same time look after ourselves and jump on the train as well?

Most people just want to be happy, but what does that mean?

Right now, at this moment I am sitting in amongst the most gorgeous surroundings armed with my laptop and a coffee. I have just come from a two hour massage and spa treatment. I feel relaxed, rejuvenated and ready to take on the world. The air is clean, the greenery is stunning and I am by myself. My daughter is spending quality time with her father, Jon is at work, the house is clean and I am happy. Now. In this exact moment.

Happiness is a feeling that requires so much more than right now. We all have moments where RIGHT NOW, we are happy. But then you leave the gorgeous surroundings, the relaxation leaves your body, the house gets filthy again, your child won’t eat her dinner, the bills arrive, you go back to work, your partner starts doing your head in and all of a sudden you find yourself back to the same old shit, willing your mind to retreat back to that exact moment when you were happy.

Life surely does not need to be this way. Surely we can be positive all of the time, content and stress free. Happy. Surely we don’t need to be on a constant holiday, getting massages and spa treatments, drinking coffee and being alone to achieve it.

I believe every single person’s version of happiness is different. Striving to be happy is impossible if you don’t explore the meaning of happiness to you.

For me, happiness is being there all of the time for my child, physically and mentally, being the best Mum I can be, being my own boss, making my own decisions, being the best partner I can be to Jon, financial freedom and exploring everything life has to offer with my family. For me it is all about enjoyment. I want to enjoy every experience, live life to the fullest, see amazing things and give my daughter the best memories and life that I can.

I challenge you all to STOP! Think about what you want. Start planning the steps on how you will get there. Realise you are a person with hopes and dreams. Be an inspiration to the people around you and do it. I encourage you to start small, today. Start by doing something just for you, everyday. May it be going for a walk, taking a bath, meditation, reading a chapter of your favourite book or catching up with a friend. Doing this once a day will start to form a habit. Once you are in the habit of making and taking time, you can start to implement more productive tasks to get you closer to your goal.

It has taken me almost 33 years to realise my dreams and to understand that no body is going to hand them to me. It has taken me this long to forgo the fear of taking a chance and chase my happiness because I have finally come to the conclusion that the only person that can stop me is me.

And I’m not stopping.

Sophia x - signature

 

 

 

 

 

My Mum, My World

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Mother, is the name for god on the lips and hearts of all children.

This quote is from one of my favourite movies The Crow and the words have such meaning for me. My mum, to me and I’m sure the rest of my siblings is just that… God.

To celebrate Mother’s Day, I thought it would be a great gift and honour to introduce you all to my mum and explain why I think she is amazing.

My mum came from a fairly strict European family. Domestic violence was the norm from her parents and brothers on a regular occasion. She was married at age 16 and was pregnant with me at 17. I was born just after she turned 18 years old. My mum seemingly had left one hell and had found herself in another even worse hell, if that was even possible.

Her husband (my sperm donor) was exceptionally abusive and sadistic. He had betrayed my mother and their marital vows on many occasions. I believe, back then, she was too young and too naïve to fully understand how wrongly she was being treated but also, this lifestyle was all that she had known for her entire existence. I guess she had learned to accept it as a normal way of life.

Over the years she added another daughter and son to her brood. We were an extremely tight knit family, my mum and my siblings. I have very minimal memories of Mum’s husband being around. I don’t remember him being present for dinner or on special occasions. I only have one memory, and that is of us all going to the Zoo. On the way I fell over and he laughed at me, so I cried.

When I was 10 years old, my mum’s husband told her that he no longer wanted to be a father (no great loss as I don’t think he was much of one) or a husband and so would be moving back to his home country.

I vaguely recall the day he packed his belongings and left. Mum was so careful not to show us kids that she was scared. My mum had never lived alone as such and although us three were with her, she was now our sole protector.

A little while later she was contacted by the bank in regards to overdue mortgage payments. As far as she was aware, the house was paid off but it turns out that the sneaky bastard had taken out a loan against the house and had taken the money overseas with him. This just shows in a nutshell what a total piece of shit this man was. Not only did he leave his wife and three children and move to another country but also put them in absolute financial ruin. Top Bloke.

Mum had no choice but to put the house up for sale. This was a very scary and uncertain time. I was sort of old enough to understand what was happening and to understand the fear and uncertainty that came with it. I believe it was at this point that my anxiety started to develop (I’ll save the anxiety stories for another time).

The house sold quite quickly and Mum had to start to work out the next part of the plan. She managed to find the shittiest house in the absolute asshole of the universe, of course because the price was right and due to the extra funds taken out on the original house, she didn’t have a lot to work with. Once settlement had occurred, us kids were sent to my grand parent’s farm so Mum could work on the house and have it ready for us to move into.

I will never forget the day when Mum took me to the new house. Looking back, I feel bloody terrible. I will admit now that I had absolutely zero faith in her capabilities. The house was, in every sense of the word, fucked. Parts of the walls were missing, it was so small, so run down and in my eyes definitely not inhabitable. I tried to fight back the tears while Mum gave me the grand tour and explained in explicit detail, with such enthusiasm and positivity, what each room will look like once she was finished. All I could think was how? How was she going to do this all on her own? I was only 10 years old and clearly didn’t have a degree in building and construction but even I could see that this place needed much more than a paint job. I remember leaving the house thinking my mum was crazy and we were doomed. My grand mother had joined us on the tour and I remember her flipping out at my mum in Italian. I didn’t understand exactly what she was saying but my mum was visibly upset and as much as I didn’t understand exactly what was being screamed at her, I knew I agreed.

Shortly after, we were taken to my grand parent’s farm for an extended holiday. Mum would call us often and would come visit on the weekends. I can’t recall exactly how long we were there for. It honestly seemed like a lifetime but I’m sure it was only a few weeks. Every time we saw her she looked worse and worse. She had lost so much weight and seriously looked like death. I felt disconnected from her as I couldn’t understand what she was doing and I guess part of me resented her for leaving us. Clearly I was just a kid and didn’t understand much about life. I look back now and I feel like such an asshole.

The day finally came that Mum called to say she was coming to get us and take us home. I was ever so anxious and filled with absolute dread. We were accustomed to living quite well. We had a beautiful house once upon a time and we wanted for nothing. I felt like that part of my life was dead now and I was entering a new life. One of struggle and poverty in a broken house.

We finally arrived at our new place of residence. The journey had been long and draining. Mum and us three kids piled onto the front porch. I looked at my mum and as much as she looked like shit, withdrawn, so awfully skinny and dead tired, I noticed she had an air of pride about her. Again I was convinced this woman had lost her marbles. Looking around I noticed that the house looked slightly different from the outside but not much.

She swung open the door and we stepped in. All I could do was cry.

The house looked nothing like I had seen only a few weeks prior. The walls were fixed, plaster had been replaced and painted, the floors were nicely polished and the house had been extended out. My tiny mind was blown. I didn’t understand how this woman had managed to do all these things in that short span of time. I was so proud of my mum at that moment.

We spent the next few weeks settling in, getting back to school and into a normal routine.

One night, after my siblings had gone to bed I stayed up to hang with Mum. Some nights she would allow me to stay up a bit with her and we would feast on cheeses and cold meats whilst watching TV. This was our bonding time. It was on this night that she explained in great detail exactly what she had endured to get our lives back on track.

As it turns out, shortly after we had arrived at my grand parent’s farm, the local council had condemned the property. That involved even more work to get the house to a habitable status. My mum worked day and night, sometimes sleeping on the floor in quick spurts to be able to meet the deadline. Most of her family disowned her as they believed she was crazy and thought it best that we seek commission housing. She had very little money to pay anyone with so most of the work was done by her. She also explained that the help she did receive was from people that had heard about her situation and wanted to donate their time as they were so inspired by what she was doing. She absolutely busted her gut to be able to make something for her family. I thought I was proud of her before but at that moment, I believed she was God.

A year later she met a wonderful man who I can proudly call my Dad (I’ll save that introduction for Father’s Day) and basically lived happily ever after, with the addition of another son.

My mum has always devoted her life to her children. She has gone without so we can have more. She has always had time for us and absolutely drains all of us, still to this day with her constant stress and worrying about our wellbeing. She is my best friend and the first person I call for anything, good or bad. I constantly ask for her opinion on everything because I know that no one has my back like my mum. I know she will only ever give me the best advice because she only wants the best for me. I know my siblings feel the exact same way. My mum fought against the odds and made enemies with her family members and friends because they didn’t support or believe in her. She took a massive risk but I don’t believe she ever thought she might fail. The love, devotion and strength for her children is what made her succeed. I don’t believe there is anything on this earth my mother couldn’t or wouldn’t do for her family. She is the lioness of the pride, constantly ensuring our survival.

Now having a daughter of my own, I can only hope that I am even half the inspiring, devoted, strong woman that my mum is. I hope that one day my daughter feels the same way about me. My mum taught me values, respect, strength and unconditional love and that is what I try to instill in my daughter everyday.

And this is why, to me, my mum is a God.

To celebrate our mothers today, I would love to hear about the wonderful things your mum does.

Sophia x - signature

Pizza Struggles

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Eating healthy has lately become the bane of my existence. I am constantly being flooded with images of acai bowls, kale and spinach infused cold pressed juices. All I want to do is smash a few dozen Nutella donuts, eat pizza and burgers every day and night and look amazing in a bikini. Seems like that is way too much to ask.

Each night my household undergoes an epic struggle to the death over what our meal will consist of, its actually only myself that struggles and its purely internal. It is the same conversation over and over again. My partner will ask what I want and I will continuously meet him with the same answer… Pizza and burgers, knowing all too well that we are going to be consuming chicken breast, broccoli and sweet potato.

The most amazing part of it all is that I am fully aware of how I feel the 24 hours after eating something greasy, fatty or high in sugar but I have since likened it to childbirth. During labor you beg for death, the pain and the cramps are excruciating, the heavy breathing, panting and sweating, almost exactly how I feel when I have overeaten the delicious goodness of bad food.

Also like labor, once its over you completely forget about what you have just endured. You know it was bad but to try and imagine the exact pain you felt is impossible. The human body is a wonderful thing and I’m sure the same chemical that is released after childbirth that causes the amnesia of such a traumatic event is the very same chemical that is released after your food baby has digested.

This is my struggle most days and I bet I’m not the only one.

We have tried and re-tried over and over again to forgo the idea of stuffing our faces with all the yummy creations and pretty much start a new plan of healthy eating every Sunday night. We will have the all too familiar conversation of how crap we feel and how much weight we have gained to then continue into an all binding pledge of NO MORE!!! No more bad eating, no more binge eating, no more pizza and burgers.

We get so caught up in the conversation and I get so motivated and enthusiastic about it all that I will often take that opportune moment to make the seemingly unbreakable oath to commit to the gym on Monday. At that exact moment, I truly believe in what I am committing to. I have this vision of me oiled up, posing in some dramatic stance wearing the shortest of shorts and a sexy looking sports bra complete with abs of steel and a booty that would bring tears to anyone who sets their eyes upon it. It’s a fantastic moment.

Every Sunday my partner will peel the sweet potato and bake it, steam the broccoli and fry up some chicken breast (with the smallest amount of olive oil possible). He will present it so nicely on the plate and I will try with every ounce of imagination possible, to trick myself into believing that in my heart of hearts this is the epitome of what I desire.

Thankfully he will use some form of spice to make the chicken some what edible and I will sit at the table with the most unconvincing, cheesiest grin I can muster, secretly hating on my existence and blaming my parents for the worst genes ever.

We will polish off every last morsel, say how wonderful the meal was and how happy we are that we are eating healthily all the while knowing both of us are covertly fantasizing about rubbing slices of pizza all over our bodies before consuming them entirely.

It will then be time to retreat to the study where we will sit at our desks and continue to build our empire that is Team Regalis. After a few hours the cravings will kick in. Pizza Shapes and chocolate and donuts… Oh my!! I will pout and moan about how much I would give my left boob for all of those things but deep down I know my ever so strong stallion of a man will not give in to my menial requests. Thus begins another night of disappointment. I have no choice but to turn on the kettle and make myself a Lots-of-Noodle Cup-a-Soup (it is so ridiculously low in calories).

And so is our life from Sunday night to Friday night… Saturday is where we become unstuck.

Generally, on a Saturday night we will have some sort of gathering to attend to, a family barbeque or a date night. I think it would not be an exaggeration to say that it is on this night that we will go nuts. We have consumed that much food between us that we have managed to shock friends, family and the friendly wait staff at whichever restaurant we have decided to grace with our presence.

It can actually be somewhat embarrassing when we are helping ourselves to thirds… and perhaps thirds and a half. I will always complain that I have not dressed appropriately as I can’t unzip my dress to give my swollen gut room without exposing my goodies.

The drive home will be all heavy breathing, sweating and me trying to remove items of clothing. One would think this is the perfect beginning and setting of some epic porn film but no… I’m just about to die from overstretching my stomach to the point that my eyeballs hurt from the pressure.

Walking in the door and stripping right off before falling into bed is not at all uncommon on a Saturday night, especially with the addition of wailing and moaning and again, no hot porn style sex happening, mainly because the repeated movement would definitely cause a scene from the Exorcist.

We try to sleep it off as much as we can but still end up feeling so lethargic, dehydrated and all round crap.

After consuming the strongest coffee the machine can muster I vow to not eat again until at least dinner time. This is the only moment in the whole week that chicken, sweet potato and broccoli actually sound like something that would be delivered upon an angel’s back, embedded in the softest of wings, bought down from the Heavens to nourish, replenish and fix my broken soul. With the most legitimate broad grin on my face I declare that I will be hitting the gym tomorrow all the while visualizing my shorter than short shorts on my oiled up booty.

Sophia x - signature