35

It was my birthday on Saturday.
And it was really lovely. I am officially middle-aged, no longer deemed a "young adult", rather a proper adult now. It is fitting for people my age to run large organisations. We have enough experience taking care of ourselves to have worked out many of the kinks.

I embrace this new label. I wrote how I have always wanted to have an interesting, thoughtful and fulfilling life. The collection of experiences so far have not disappointed.

And while I bask in this maturity, I am also trying to step back and make sure that I'm enjoying moments and finding simple positivity.

The day began with a big, beautiful, blood moon over Australia. A friend said that this somehow symbolises a rebirth.
In fact, she said this is a time for: "Letting go of many outdated things, karmic and past life 💖 Allow the eclipse to shed what is no longer needed and no longer of service to you." 

Very fitting.

My kids are still at a ratbag stage with lots of noise and demands. I feel like Ev should know better, but she still cries often, loudly and liberally. I made crepes for breakfast and they were quiet for the whole 5 minutes of eating.

I mowed the lawn. This was actually exciting because I pulled the cord out of my old lawnmower earlier this month and bought myself a fancy new one. We can call that a birthday present. This one is battery powered, lighter and no more oil changes or petrol. And now my lawn looks lovely. There's satisfaction in that.

I taught Ev (again) how to wash my car so that could be her very wonderful birthday present to me. (Pat on my own back there)

Chas finally went down for a nap and Ev styled my hair with no less than 5 ponytails, 3 clips, 2 braids and a piece of paper saying "I Love You <---->" pinned to my head. 

Friends had invited us over for roast pig and a campfire, but then continued the invitation and there were quite a few people. It was a gathering for me, and something like that was such an effort, it made me feel special.

It was a really beautiful day. I am feeling very grateful.

Reiki

I have committed to a Pilates class on Friday mornings, as a peer pressure setting to actually care for my body. As one does, it felt like a huge task to figure out how to fit this into my day. Will I stress out more because I'm taking this time away? We'll see. Right now, it's a good reason to stretch at the beach. And wear yoga pants.

Beautiful Nicole offers reiki. The energy, healing, frequency stuff. I've never spent the time to even thing about it, but I definitely support her and am willing to give anything a shot. After this recovery from antidepressant withdrawal and the shock of the PTSD label, I am not about to judge any avenue for healing. Emotions are confusing and I value meditation, even if my grasp on it is minimal.

So this reiki is something I tried. Here is my reflection.
     * I'm spending an hour on a massage table with someone's hands resting on parts of my body and head. Instead of a massage, it's just a physical touch, which can be a powerful connection that many humans respond to well. I am one of those people. Nicole says she can feel energy and heat and wants to be seen a conduit for the Earth's energy channeling toward you and the way to be most receptive to it is to relax and open up.
Deal. I can do both of those things.

First, she played her reiki bowls and I quite liked the sound of those. I thought it was lovely to have anyone play something for me, especially for my well-being.

Then, hands. And nice music. Yoga, bird noises and rain and those nature sounds. I thought it blended rather well with the council maintenance trucks and crows, and I'm not even being facetious. It really was nice.
Hands on my forehead. I thought about how this physical touch is a nice thing and intended on the meditation component of "pushing all thoughts out of the mind" as my old pilates teacher in Burma would say. So if I started thinking, I would imagine actually pushing that out and staying clear.
And I started watching the light impressions moving around behind my eyelids, which was slow and a little bit like watching clouds. Pretty clear mind.

Her hands moved to my head and I forgot about keeping the clear mind. I was thinking about the flowers that just got delivered from my inlaws and how that felt like they were from Austin. And how Evelyn has been sleeping in my bed and that's the closest thing I have to sleeping next to him again. And I even thought about his ashes and the reality of owning the very last of someone's body. And I was profoundly sad. That happens now, those feelings. And I could feel my eyes burning and the heat climb up my throat and my eyes got wet. Which is NOT what I wanted this for. Quick! Get the thoughts out of my head and go back to that clear, thought pushing stuff. Clear. Open. Back.

And now I'm back to the light impressions. How am I coping with all of this? And a funny picture starts being drawn in my imagination, with curves and a point and patterns, deep blue with yellow dots. And it grows and for whatever reason, this seems like it's a picture of my personality, or at least what I want to be for the rest of what I have. Now I feel like painting it.

Her hands are over my throat and moving to my chest. My brain hasn't stopped firing off, but it's at least calmer. Guided. Still reflective and not negative. I'm trying to consider these Earth energy frequencies and stay open to it all.
Where would all of this energy come from? It's all energy. It's a fact. But let's consider all of the energy sources. Right now, what's is a healthy energy. Those birds cacking away out there, that's energy. The grass bending under my feet. There's some. The wind, the sun, the growing plants in my garden. Rain falling. This is what starts pulling through my head.

Her hands move down to my belly. I'm reminded of my breathing and how counting my long breaths out used to be a way to go to sleep, or calm my heart rate, but it doesn't seem to work as well anymore. Maybe that's practice.
I should also be practicing that calm, safe space for the therapy sessions. So I've moved back to the beach. It's much more comfortable recalling a past experience rather than imagining a new one. So I think back about the beach and the visuals that were appreciated, and the sensations, like he had said. And I remember the warm sun, the sound of the waves, sinking heavily into a beach chair and watching actual goats eat the purple flowers off of the plants. It was a pretty impressive place. And it was far enough away, and difficult enough to get to that it was well and truly removed from any other realities or life stress. That was it. There you were. Isn't it great.
And I remember feeling a really deep appreciation for living in such a bizarre, interesting, beautiful country. I felt a really strong... love, I guess, for everything I could rest my eyes on. What made that place so very different from where I am right now? Could I still feel a deep love for where I am? Because, let's face it, laying on a massage table in my clean house in this situation is pretty fantastic, too. Why was it more work to recall that appreciation?
I don't buy too much into the mindfulness trend going on EVERYWHERE at the moment, but this must be a part of it. I don't like trends. Oh well. Hands are moving.

I flip over onto my belly and her hands are on my shoulders now. Recently, Nicole asked me where I carry my stress, or to pay attention to where I carry my stress. And the answer is in my shoulders. So I'm making a conscious effort to let my shoulders fall. Logically, that would be the part that would need to download the most of this Energy as a recharge. So I pretend to vacuum all the energy love up and actually feel a bit dizzy, so I go with that. The room starts spinning around pretty hard, like a roller coaster. Then slows and moves and I'm all over the place. What a ride. Cool.

Hands move over to my back. That's nice. I like when people touch my back. It's rather supportive. And I suppose that's the whole point of this exercise. This is a way to show self-care and support yourself. But I also have a friend who is supporting me by offering this. And I have support.

The end.
That was a mental ride. That's a lot of my thought processes and, quite frankly, a pretty decent insight. It also might be proof of how ridiculous brains can be.
Our minds really control so much more of our body and health than we realise. If it takes believing in reiki, or whatever other avenue to slip down that path of calm, then I suppose I'll take it.

Signing off. I'll go and finish my birthday now.

Career and Bladder Movement

Many good things and movements.

Most importantly, Ev had the doctor appointment today to follow up on the wet pants saga.
And it was validated. Alarming enough to trigger an ultrasound for her kidneys tomorrow.

And I knew this. This issue has become throughout the day, every day- and will either be physiological or behavioural. We'll check this out first. Who knows.
Am I nervous?
Yes. Sort of, but totally am. We'll just see. The process has been started.


Secondly, my principal requested a meeting. What would I like to do for next year.
I said, this PPLC has only ever been intended on being short term. Be that 12 months or 24. Expiration date, end 2019.
Longer term, I'd like to return to base school. My child is attending. This is my longer plan, to be with her.
Extra, extra long term. Let's be honest. I'd like to go back to the international school system. It's too incredible of an experience to deprive my children of. But I'll need to be prepared to work full time for that.

Working full time can consume your soul. I love being an excellent worker, consistent and organised, prepared and committed. And I just can't offer that with two small, needy humans under foot. It isn't realistic for me to be the type of parent I want to be while being the type of professional I want to be. Maybe one day.

So we discussed returning as a non-contact teacher next year. And to be honest, that sounds great. It's a "fun" job. And I actually said that out loud.
"Are you sure you're okay with me taking the fun job?" But I also realise that this isn't permanent. Right now, it's perfect. I can do a good job, and prioritise my family.

Like I said, movement.

Kids

NEXT TOPIC!

Let's talk kids.
Always the kids. Oh, the children.
The bloody, blessed children.

I love them, I swear.

My kids are both going through really challenging stages. And it's catching up with me and I'm afraid that I'm not coping very well.
(The mummy club would hear this and nod vigorously, offering coos of understanding.)
Hear me out.

Ev started school this year. She's brilliant. She talks ALL OF THE TIME. She started reading and she writes me love notes and draws pictures of her family with enormous stick hands, kneecaps and bumpy shoulders. She practices backtalking and cries uncontrollably multiple times every single day.
Another thing she does every single day?
Wees her pants.

That's it, folks. We've had a complete toileting regression. We have gone from a confident check-that-off-the-list job to the centre of my parenting frustration.
I know! I know, I know I know.  I knoooooowww
Don't make a big deal of it. No pressure. Does she have a UTI? Don't make her feel bad. Don't overcompensate by putting her back in nappies. Give her a time schedule. No more drinks after 5 o'clock. Umm. What else? Put her on the toilet before I go to bed. Put her potty back in her room for easier access. Night lights. Support, support support. Talk about what it feels like. Pressure? Frequent reminders. Anything.

Yet.
It has now been 5 months and it's become even worse. Now she accidents up to, and I exaggerate not, 8 times through the day WITH the 90 minute toilet breaks. Plus the accidents at night. And I think one of the biggest concerns is her inability to even acknowledge that her pants are wet.
Seriously.
I make a point not to make a big deal, telling her to change her pants because she's had another accident. She just looks a bit sheepish and runs off. I guess it's possible that she doesn't even go to the toilet when I tell her to, but sits there and sings to herself in the mirror and that would have been enough to fool me on most days, to be honest.

Today, though, once again, she said she can't even feel that it's wet. She doesn't know why she doesn't go to the toilet. And she had another accident while I was at Nicole's house, not even 30 minutes after her previous toilet break. I'm just... I'm frustrated!!!

Top it all off, I'm simultaneously toileting a stubborn and ornery 2 year old, who insists on regular cuddles through the night by screaming as though he's been met with a barbed wire sickle and my dinners are out to kill him.

I'll tell you, this parenting thing is a hoot.

Dinner and Pigeons

Sunday. Day 2 of the weekend.

The pigeons have moved back onto my roof, under the solar panels. Despite the bird spikes, and gurneys, and coil. The pool noodles I used to block off their entrance points have perished so I just bought some gutter guard mesh to wedge under there. In theory, it won't perish, will be strong enough to block entry points. I just have to figure out how to get up there without relying on the stability of my 5 year old holding the ladder.

I don't like feeling emotional. I don't like crying. I have currently learned that some people actually do like crying because it makes them feel better. In my head, this sentence reads with a question mark. I cry because something is wrong, overwhelmingly, and the crying is admitting this. It does not help with a solution. Though, after talking to Nicole about this, she says it helps her to really get to the root of her sadness. It's been interesting food for thought for me.

And last night, I hit an emotional wall. Blame it on the lack of sleep or the cold or any other excuse, but when Ev came to the dinner table, she complained.

This is a thing. She has this dramatic flair that just about knocks me over. Her shoulders shake with theatrical sobs and her face is contorted into the twist of torture. How could I possibly serve her vegetable SOUP! She HATES soup. It goes on and on, while the 2 year old insists on sitting on the potty every 3 minutes and refuses to sit at the table and I'm tired and I just want to eat and WHY AM I RUINING HER LIFE WITH SOUP!

Now. I have this stupid, unwelcome thought that if Austin was still alive, he could possibly even have my back. Tell me that dinner is delicious. Pick Chas up and take him to the potty. Or even get mad for me, so I don't have to find the energy to tell Ev how we need to use kind words.
And I put my face in my napkin, big breath in and hold, out slowly and (whoops!) why are there burning feelings in my eyes. I don't LIKE CRYING! Now my kids are watching me cry. Ugh.

And Ev changes her tune. She starts crying loudly. She says she's sorry and I'm the best cook ever. Which is nice, its beautiful. But I'm already here, and it's hard to pull back the reins once that feeling hits. Why can't dinner just be easy?

And we finish. And bath the kids. And pyjamas and teeth and story time and all the other rituals. And I'm absolutely spent.

I decided to break the dry July attempt (ahem, again) with a glass of red and Netflix.
(I've been into that Anne with an E, season 2. She's less annoying now that I'm older. And there's a whole episode about the new progressive teacher who doesn't wear a corset and even wears pants and is single. Widowed, she says. And Anne thinks this is "tragical romance" and falls in love with this persona. In the end, she decides to become a teacher just like her and is asked "tragical romance and all?" and she smiles. So. Okay. Someone out there, even a fictitious someone, finds this particular situation to be particularly interesting. Maybe even desirable, despite being obviously undesirable. It's a strange thought to rest on. But for whatever reason, it doesn't feel quite so bad.


Edit:
Dinner was beautiful and both kids ate broccoli. So this is a win.
Also,
Pigeons have been evicted. I have attacked with mesh gutter-guard. Rolled and lanced onto the current bird spikes, which have also started to detach, which means that Liquid Nails is an example of false advertising. Ugh.

Stay tuned.

EMDR

If anyone stumbles upon this, there is a serious backstory. So much backstory.
I've written, and can upload gently.

This is my raw reflection of experiencing EMDR, which is an offered treatment for people who have had a traumatic experience and are showing some rather serious symptoms of PTSD.
--------------

EMDR

Day 1:

I have 20 minutes to reflect on how today went before I pick up my daughter, so this is going to be an actual jumble and unplanned deluge of words.

I was terrified. Didn‘t really realize that I would be terrified, but I really really did not want to have to be smashed in the face with bad memories. I like my therapist. I don’t really think that he would purposefully force me to relive some terrible memories. It was scary enough just knowing that we would be talking about them.

So the diagnosis of PTSD was, surprisingly, a surprise. I looked at the score, and then the scoring sheet and saw how high it was and my reaction was, “Oh, shit.” This wasn’t good. Of course I want to address an issue like this. It isn’t healthy. Sure, I can reflect now and it makes sense that I’m not entirely coping. Mostly because I really don’t like hearing about pregnancy, babies, and especially birth.
Okay. I don’t want to talk about it.

So I walked in. I’ve been breaking out all week, anticipating today would be confronting and rather unpleasant. EMDR sounds experimental. I haven’t read all of the research, just a brief and realise that there isn’t a lot behind it. It’s a matter of taking traumatic memories and re-categorizing them so they can be processed and triggered or recalled under more appropriate circumstances, rather than all of the time. That’s what I got out of it. I like that it’s more of a subliminal message shooting through the brain, a way for the subconscious to acknowledge and process, because apparently that didn’t happen the first time.

Fair.
I walk in nervous. I sit down. My hands are dry. I’m dry. I know it’s a good thing. Whatever, my heart is beating and I’m not enjoying this so far.
The therapist lets me calm down. Lighter conversation. Distraction. Talk about our relationship with parents. I appreciate the distraction.
I say, “I’m nervous,” and those stupid emotions choke up again because I really, strongly dislike ever feeling vulnerable. I don’t know why my eyes start burning even when I think about thinking about a bad memory. How ridiculous.

So I change seats, as requested. Think about a happy place. Like a literal happy place. I’ve never been great at these visualisations, but willing to give it a good honest shot. Someone on Reddit had shared a calming fantasy about going through a forest, finding a lake and diving in deeper and deeper until coming to an enclosure/bubble with the most comfortable bed and everything needed. That was a nice thought, so I went with it. Okay. So now I’m visualising someone else’s bubble. But it has to feel like my bubble.

His hand is moving back and forth and I’m supposed to follow this with my eyes, as though my eyes are pushing the fingers back and forth. It is a bit dizzying, but I suspect that could be part of it. We start talking about this bubble. What do I see? Follow the movements. What do I feel? Follow the movements. What emotions? Words?

I’m afraid I am not very good at this and it’s going to take some practice. He asks about how I’m feeling or what I’m experiencing now and I don’t know what to say, because it feels a bit silly but I don’t want it to feel silly. I want this to be the most helpful experience and I have to embrace it.  But it’s still someone elses bubble. I haven’t practiced. I should have practiced. How could I have practiced, though, because I had no idea what was coming.

So we’re visualising this bubble, feeling happy and content and heavy and calm and clear and peaceful and sweet. Visualise relaxing and what are you doing. I’m clenching something soft. “Sorry, I don’t know why that’s there”.  “What are you thinking about?” “Practicing pilates in Burma when the teacher used to say to push the thoughts out of our heads”. I’m totally messing this up. But it’s got to become my happy place, so I best own it.

If I want to recall this happy, safe place then we come up with a word to recall it. The first word I like was “peace” but then I kept hearing him say “piece” and I’m off topic again. Maybe I’ll ask to change it to peaceful or clear. I like the word clear.

It wasn’t a bad place to start. I was asked to recall some mild annoyances and I felt those creep up the back of my spine, and then let the peaceful bubble place relax me to push those bad feelings back down. That was interesting. Physically feeling the stress.  Now I realize that I carry stress in my shoulders.

So I want to build that mental exercise of developing that happy little enclave. And I want to practice recalling this using those buzz words that popped up in my brain, however I refer to that place.  That needs to get stronger. And I want to be able to run away to that little place whenever the crap starts to creep in.

And here I was thinking that I was doing so well.