Getting Back on Track

Good morning…

So, things have been a little quiet in the world of Joyful Things these days. If you stumbled across my little blog over the last month you may have wondered whether I had given up, or simply dropped off the face of the earth.  Or perhaps you didn’t notice.  Either is fine.

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For me, my moods and emotions can be tracked by how much I blog.  For some, blogging is therapy, or release, for me it seems to be the first thing that suffers when life gets too much. Not because I don’t enjoy it.  Not at all; I would say that starting this blog was one of the best things I ever did. It has quite honestly changed my life.  This little break was purely because it seemed frivolous to be writing about my favourite makeup when in the midst of an apparent early midlife crisis. I actually think that is the first time I have been early for anything.

Things still haven’t resolved themselves really. I made an impulsive decision about my future, and it will take a miracle for that to go away. So if anyone has a direct line to God maybe you could put a word in for me, because it seems He doesn’t want to deal with my whining voice at the moment.

 

 

This post is likely to be a bit of a muddle, because my brain is in a bit of a muddle. It’s also not very helpful, and quite possibly not very interesting (this blog post, not my brain…)

I’m working on the mess, though. Sorting through the scattered papers on desks, floors, table tops and chairs inside the many rooms of my mind. I could employ a cleaner, but I have always been one to do things myself; not asking for help even when juggling more than I can comfortably handle. I’ll keep going until I finish, or drop from the weight of it all.

Whichever comes first.

I plan for normal service to resume soon.  Next week I finish with a project that has taken up way too much of my time over the last two months.  I’ll be able to take a break until the next phase, and I will be making the most of that time, to get my blogging mojo back.

My content may evolve and change a little, as I evolve and change a little. I hope that’s ok.

 

Anyway, thanks for taking a few moments to read my ramblings. I hope you will return when my blog becomes a little more Joyful Things, and a little less Moaning Things.

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Defeating the Biggest Enemy of Them All

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She’s always there; chatting away.  Giving ideas, letting me get excited, then taking them away in the next breath. The only compliments are sarcastic.  A quick ‘well done clumsy’, when I drop something; knock a glass over; break a treasured possession.

She senses when I feel proud of myself; when I have achieved something. Up she pops, to bring me back to earth with a crash.  She’ll remind me that it was probably a fluke, it must be – I am a fraud after all. ‘No you don’t’, she says ‘don’t you go getting all high and mighty now. We can’t have you believing in yourself now, can we?

‘You are distinctly AVERAGE’

 

She reminds me of my flaws, should I ever forget. Tells me I’m not attractive, clever, or interesting enough to be a success. She points out the goals that I haven’t achieved, laughs in the face of my dreams and ambitions.

 

She’s there now as I type.  Pouring doubt over me like acid rain.

 

She won’t be quiet.

 

My inner voice.

 

Things are going to change.

I’ve got news for you, Inner Voice.  You’re fired.

I’m not taking your advice anymore.

I’m going to replace you.

I can do it.

I will do it.

I will succeed.

I will be someone.

I will be remembered.

I will achieve my goals.

 

I will do it day by day. I will make a plan, and stick to it.

I will look into my children’s eyes and remember – I created human beings. I am responsible for others now.

I will be their inner voice.

 

sssssss

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Three Little Words

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I was cross, tired and weary.  Bed times in our house had become more and more drawn out over the last few months.  The boys (11 and 7) are usually no trouble; they amuse themselves quietly until bed time.

The girls on the other hand? Not so much. Not naughty; just mischievous.  Cheeky; not badly behaved.  Still, that doesn’t make it any easier.  My body seems to shut down after dinner.  It’s been on the go all day; running, cleaning, playing, cooking, washing, dressing, driving, walking.  By 7pm I’ve had it.  My husband is in charge of bath time.  That’s his chance to catch up, play, and read stories.  I pop in and out in between sorting laundry, and organising uniforms for the next day. I pick up any stray toys, collect the multitude of cups that are strewn around the house (why can’t children use the same cup more than once?!)  I look forward to the couple of hours of peace and quiet, before I pass out from exhaustion.

On this particular evening, I was more keen than usual to get back downstairs to unwind; Netflix was calling my name.  It had been a long day. I trudged up the stairs one more time.  Settled my youngest (18 months); and told her sister to please ‘shhh’ (she is 4).  As I was leaving the room, I heard a little voice; ‘Mummy’.  What now?! I thought.  I turned, wearily, ‘what is it?’.

A pause.

 

‘I love you mummy’.

 

My heart melted.

Welcome to parenthood.  Taking the rough with the smooth since time began.

 

 

 

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