Friday, June 10, 2011

Regret, or the shaping of a person.

They say that we all have regrets.
Regrets that we have to live with each day.

This is something that I have recently thought long and hard about.
Regret.
Do I have any?
What are MY regrets.

I am a strong believer in the 'everything happens for a reason theory'.
Whilst it took me a while to actually believe in this, no matter how many times I heard it, it has stood in the court of my life, in front of judge and jury, and proved it, time and time again, beyond reasonable doubt.
I had my first child when I was just 19. On my own. To many this is frowned upon, hell at the time I even frowned upon myself! I heard the stories that were told, I heard that remarks and theories that were never meant to reach my ears.
A teenage pregnancy. To a small town, that is a HUGE scandal! And didn't they just love it!
It was never my intention. It was never planned. It was just one of things. And it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It meant my mum got to meet and know a grandchild. Got to cut the cord and set her free into this world. She was the rainbow amongst the rain in those last painful few months. The only thing that brought a smile to my mum's face.
No Regret.

I was part of a crazily, insane, abusive relationship for a few years after my little Missy was born.
Not just a slap here and there amidst an argument.It was hair pulling out in chunks, taking scalp with it.
It was enjoying a relaxing bath, and then finding yourself being held under water, and fighting so hard that your watch actually smashes into teeny tiny bits whilst you try and grab onto the edge of the bath. Being held under for so long that you give in, and stop thrashing, and it almost becomes peaceful. The noise is gone. All you can see is a morphed version of the person trying to do this to you through the water. Like looking through a stained glass window. Eventually he gives up, just in time, and you rise to the top, the blissful peace gone, gasping for air but not being able to take enough breath's.
You hit reality. Still in the bath whilst he is standing there, watching you, and you try and work out how the hell you are going to get out of the bathroom without being dragged by your hair.
One wrong move and that's what will happen.
Don't dare fight.
Don't dare say one word.
But it doesn't matter, you stand up, put one foot on the bath mat, then slowly the other, carefully carefully. You reach for a towel.
All is going good.
One step towards the bathroom door.
You think it's finished.
You think it's OK.
That you can safely breath again.
But he is watching, watching for your muscles to relax, for any sign that you think its over.
And then he grabs you by the hair and throws you to the floor. The marble tiled bathroom floor.
Your head being smashed into it over and over again. He lets go to get a better grip, and you make a run for it. Naked. Through the house, to try and get dressed and out of there as fast as you can until he is calm again. Until he apologises.
But you aren't fast enough. Never are.
He grabs you and drags you through the house by your breasts. Now this is something that you can't keep quiet about. Oh My the pain is like nothing else!
Through your sobs, the non violent man returns. With all of his it's your faults, I shouldn't have to apologise.
This continued. For a few years. Different day, different technique used, but always the same outcome.

Regret? No. I don't regret that.

It took me a long time to not see that as a regret. To not wish it were different. To not wish it never happened.
 To wish that I could forget it.
But it's simple really. These things made me the person that I am today.
To come so close to death at the hands of another made me stronger, physically and emotionally.
It gave me self worth (eventually).
It made me value me. Value my life.
Losing my mum made me appreciate life.

Whilst it isn't all sun shiny happy all the time, these things have left their scar's, a smoking habit (which I NEVER had) and PTSD I am told,  but I'm trying to allow them to heal properly. So they don't hurt as much. 
A clean scar rather than a messy one.

I say don't live with regrets. Think about what it is that you regret, and how your life would be now without that experience in it.
Would you be the same person?
Probably not.
But, if you let go of the regret, you will soon see that the person that you are for walking that path, is YOU. The person you are today. The battle scar's a gentle reminder of how far you have come, not how much you have endured.

Everything happens for a reason, sometimes it just takes a while to work out what the reason is!



Thursday, June 2, 2011

New Beginnings

Some of you may know that we have been looking at buying a house.
Then we found THE house! It is truly amazing, to say the least. Think resort style Jamie Durie gardens, 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and everything else you could possibly want!

Well, we have it! Finally. After so much debate, after so much stress.

The farmer was freaking out there for a little while, and life under the farm house roof wasn't too happy for the last few months. Stress does some pretty horrid things.

But now, the stress has been removed, we can get back to loving each other, and planning our pretty damn shiny and bright future.

What does it involve? 

* long nights in the outdoor spa together
* Sipping champagne from our own private bar
* getting back to the entertaining social people we are
* LIVING IN TOWN!!!! yep, I am a townie.
* did I mention a social life?

It's all pretty bright, sunny and happy here today, the planets are aligning!


I am off to celebrate by finally getting my hair done, it's been a while and the regrowth is consuming me!

Oh, and it means I can escape this mouse plague... They are driving me nuts, even eating holes in our clothing!!!! HELP.
Any great mouse killing/deterring tips out there?


Sending as much sunshine and love as we have at the moment your way
xx

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

The life and times of The Dinosaur Egg Rock

My little Wommy had a bit of a rock obsession. He collects them. He studies them. He LOVES them! Every time we go somewhere he has to bring a rock home. Even if it's just a quick handful of gravel from the side of the road! It seems every time I vacuum the car that's all I suck up. Blasted rocks!

The farmer went out farming yesterday (as opposed to sitting in his office 'working' whilst trawling eBay, at least, I'm sure that's all he does in there).
He brought home a rock.
OK, I will admit it, a pretty cool rock by brown, paddock rock standards.
It is shaped a bit egg like. BIG egg that is.  A present for the Wom.

Needless to say, he was pretty chuffed!

So much so in fact that The Rock had a shower last night. Used soap and everything.
Then sat at my dinner table where I was promptly instructed to give it a plate of our gorgeously cooked fish, chips and salad also.
He also got tucked into bed with all 3 kids last night.

I must give this Rock some credit however. This morning when Wommy was packing away his toys (after the 5th time of me requesting it be done), I was informed that the Rock was helping to pack away too. Hey, I will happily feed anyone who is going to pull their weight around here!

So now, here I am, with one Little Miss Mousie sound asleep, One Master Wommy worn out, and One napping Rock, all warm and tucked into bed!