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The Land of Always and Hugs

The Land of Always and Hugs

It’s been a while.

I know.

I am sorry.

I have been going through a bit of a process, a great word –  from Latin processus “a going forward, advance, progress.” Moving forward, I hope that is what I’ve been doing. It might be slower than a herd of turtles, but I am getting there.

So much has been going on and I’ve been in observer mode. You know sometimes in life when everyone and everything in it spins around so fast you feel like you are watching the carousel? Deciding when to jump back on, you take a running leap and BANG you missed it. Deep breathe, ok this one looks good, I will jump on HERE….nope gone again.

If I am really honest, there have been a few days where I want to gather up my children and Lothario and escape from the Carousel up into the branches of the Faraway tree into the land of Always & Hugs. We would stay up all night laughing and eating copious amounts of pop corn, we would never get fat because the Queen of Always & Hugs has exiled Sir Carbohydrate to the land of NoFun.

Didn’t take me long did it? There’s the gambler then there’s the rambler, I have the art of verbal diarrhea refined.

I am avoiding. Procrastinating- Latin for “Not getting the shit that needs to be done, done.” I went to the Doctors, I went for an MRI a few weeks ago now. The MRI- a lovely big tunnel of magnetic genius. Like the Wizard of OZ behind the curtain They work their magic to look at amazing pictures of your upstairs grey matter. An hour of lying in an enclosed space, with ear muffs while big noisy machines click and grind around you, shrouded behind space age plastic and metal.

I pretend I’m in a space Odyssey capsule, flying faster than the speed of light to the Land of Chocolate & Johnny Depp (have you heard darling? Its mean to be just de-lish) Then you wait a few hours, They don’t make eye contact normally. Because they know and you don’t, and they are beautiful, dedicated and often polite people, so they don’t want to acknowledge that you know that they know. So everyone pretends they don’t know. I actually find it quote socially awkward sometimes.

Sometimes I feel like patting their arm and saying “Look I know what’s in there, don’t worry, I am cool with it, really. Go have a coffee, take a load off.”

On other days I feel like looking at them and saying “Can I just ask? Have aliens infiltrated it? Because I’ve been wearing some pretty bloody thick aluminum foil around there and It doesn’t seem to be doing the trick,” and signing off with the Captain Spock hand gesture and walking mysteriously off into the distance with my arse hanging out of my gown. That’s usually on a bad day.

Lots of people ask what this stinky aneurysm actually is. So if you want to be bored senseless and I really hope the doctors aren’t reading this as it is WAY TOO SIMPLISTIC- SO LAYMANS TERMS LOL.

Ok lets do this quickly …the aneurysm is a big misshapen balloon in my Brain but more precisely in my Internal Carotid Artery, facing opposite my Opthamalic artery and many other little arteries that feed all the blood supply to the front of the brain including the eyes. Picturing? So basically if it ruptures I would die very quickly or in some medical staff’s words I would wish I was dead (yup these words have been used). Normally aneurysms can be clipped, or coiled to seal off the blood going into it. I’ve already had this done back in 2012. This is a completely different aneurysm. Imagine a balloon filling and filling until the wall gets too thin, or even a hose with a bubble in the side wall. If blood is filling into it, depending on the size and location it weakens and can break. So back in November I was told it was a case of uh oh– no clipping, no coiling, no neurosurgery, but at the same time it was such a nasty little bugger if they did nothing I would die. The Doctor’s estimate at the time was that I would be lucky to get to Christmas.

SO they put FRED™ in, a Flow Diverter, to take all the blood away from the aneurysm and redirect the flow. When you take the blood flow away the aneurysm can shrink and occlude itself or in lay-mans terms shrivel up and is no more. They did this by threading a catheter all the way from my groin to my brain and placing two Diverters in there.

They were very honest with me, the nature of this brain aneurysm was so severe that they were wanting and praying that this could save my life or prolong it a bit. Life or a bit more time. Either way was better than Christmas. (Try telling that one to your three kids, no thank you very much).

To cut another long story short, this is not like a brain tumour. Its not about getting bigger, and if it doesn’t get bigger its ok, or if it gets a little bit bigger its ok. This cannot grow. If it grows any more – no more Kirsten. It’s that simple.

Harsh huh? So it definitely hasn’t grown because I am typing this blog, and unless the NBS has developed at super speed and Heaven has WIFI so far so good.

SO FRED is working well enough that I am still here. The not so great news was that blood is still entering the aneurysm. It isn’t shriveling or occluding. They expected it to be doing this by now or even be gone. It isn’t. Its still filling with blood…

Yours truly was so excited before this news because I wanted to report back it is gone. All gone and I am going to revert back to normal land. Who was I kidding? First I’ve never been “normal” per se. Secondly that would be really greedy considering I have already received multiple miracles and Thirdly I am not going to question the process. Fourth- “hello my name is Kirsten and I might be a perfectionist”. Hmph.

Good news is- it might take 12 months to happen. Scary news- the artery might not make it.

So there it is. I have a time bomb in my head every day. I could live until next Tuesday or until 2050. This time bomb has also been my golden opportunity and key to looking at my life in all sorts of different ways. Its true I appreciate all the little things and the big things too with a new light. My educated guess is that the bomb will be dissected and stop ticking before the year is out. I hope so. The red wire or the blue wire? Anyone’s guess. They have done everything they can. But maybe October 2015 some scientist will release a laser beam that can penetrate and vaporate blood flow in an instant. Who knows?  Now there’s an idea…

If one more person says “Or you could get hit by a bus tomorrow, none of us know” I will scream. I really will. Like a “back away now- she’s going a funny colour” kind of scream. No, not really. Have you ever seen me cross? Apparently according to my Lothario it’s an amusing event to watch.

I mean this with absolute love and good intent but for the purpose of understanding- Please take a big uncomfortable chemical lump of C4 attached to a super big bomb, strap it to your chest while sitting at a Russian Roulette game, take a big breathe and listen to the ticking of the clock. Can you hear it?

Just a tip- it ticks louder when you tuck your children into bed, when you see a sunset and you hug someone. It even gets caught in your throat when the dog does something cute or your brother makes you proud. I have to sit in my car and watch my son play tennis, because otherwise i get misty eyed. When my little niece CC runs up to me (every single time she see’s me) and gushes “Oh I LOVE YOU Aunty Kirst” looking at me like I am amazing and hugging me like a vice I get a bit scared my heart will explode and I will make a big mess. Not kidding, its kind of pathetic. So the bomb ticks… (like sands through the hour glass?? so dramatic, i should really get a grip) 

The ticking gets super loud at the midnight hour too. I talk to it, I make it my friend and I do all the right things to ease my body, mind and keep calm so I can carry on. BUT, when mortality is in your waking moments, through your day and in your dreams you are not fully submersed. You are not positioned on the carousel like most of the population. Your thinking IS different. Your experience of life, spirit and love is different. Your relationship with the idea of death changes dramatically. The different is good, bad, ugly and positive. It just is.

So I was fine. I am good, no really I am fine. I kept it together the day I had my review and MRI. Lothario and I even made silly jokes in the waiting room together. Hugs are good when they are for people you think are crazy awesome aren’t they?

The trip home was fine. We were all ok. Then I woke up at 2.00am and had a little walk outside, pacing the back yard in the Wintery chill and had a serious convo with the Bearded Wise Guy upstairs. I asked him if I could hand back the ticking thing. I then realized he didn’t give it to me, so how could I give it back? It was a human thing, this ticking business. Humans can break did you hear? Their parts can and do stop working sometimes. It’s the darnedest thing. Its complicated.

So back at the 2.00am backyard Q&A session I took some long slow breathes asking for guidance and in true Frozen form the answer came “Let it Go” so let it go I did. Many, many tears came. Huge ones, little ones, fat ones, Forrest Gump sideways ones. They fell for a long time, and with each tear I could feel the tension and fear draining away. It was okay, I was not alone. I was surrounded with a grace and peace that felt strongest in my chest. As my tears fell, I could feel my heart unravel just enough to let some faith back in.

I wiped the tears. I made a cup of tea. I asked for some really good stuff to happen to lift my heart. Within hours I had received 3 pieces of news that made my day.

One of these involved a gorgeous young friend of mine called Lilly who went to the Sydney Writer’s festival and met a writer we both adore and respect. I’ve known this poppet since she was born, she is one of those sparkly shiny people you feel blessed to be able to hug every so often and this news we shared made my day.

The second was that my Nanna was ready and waiting at the local nursing home. She moved to live around the corner. From me. Nellie Florence, my beautiful wonderful Guardian Angel was brave enough to move from Far away to Close. From the Land of Bendigo to the Land of the Blowing Cold Winds (otherwise known as Geelong) My inner child was so flipping excited it was on a sugar high, red cordial and ants-in-my-pants joy that had me unable to sit still! She’s alive and around the corner for me to hug whenever I want to.

The third was that I would live the day out and get to hug my children, feel their warmth and their breathe on my cheek and walk through their mess. (The mess bit only lasted until the Wednesday if I am really honest)

And such is life. It is a roller coaster or carousel as my daughter would put it. So I have jumped back onto the Carousel. It took me a few weeks to get the nerve again and be friends with my vulnerable, scared self while embracing the inner warrior who trusts in God and maintains her faith about jumping onto a moving object. I even had a weekend with great mates and laughed until it really hurt and it was so good.

And Here we are.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to share. Check out our new support page on this website and I wish you well.

The other is Annie L , our tyre –men connection, our Kerry connection, our brain connection and now our heart connection. I want you to know that you have been in my prayers, blessings and thoughts EVERY DAY since we walked passed each other in Ocean Grove- a glimpse is worth a thousand words. My blessings to you in your journey are in abundance. You are amazing and you are not alone and I hope your heart is peaceful, you are getting enough daily laughter with your Vitamin D along with lots of love and a shrinking tumor xxxThe Magic Faraway Tree

Choices of a Polygon

You have days that plonk themselves on you like a big fat lardy icky stink.

Days where it can be hard to whistle and smile. I had a couple of those days this week. I think it came from my having to have “bed rest” which is equivalent to saying a profoundly gutteral swear word in my ear. Say what? Rest? LOL.

Being somewhat of an analytical type and being a bit shamed up for feeling low and ungrateful I started to cross examine myself. I have had revolting vertigo and migraines. I have some damage to my vision and optical nerves after a nasty bout of violent vomiting. Symptoms now, and not nice ones. Am I getting better or is the aneurysm growing? eeek. No I am ok, I am ok, really am ok. I’m concentrating every day on healing and this FRED device in my head is working, I just know it!

But the clincher has been the lack of physical exercise.

A couple of years ago when I learned to walk again it ignited a joy for the physical, moving ones muscles and pushing through limits and barriers became a real centre of passion for me. Not to mention the copious amounts of serotonin my body now craves like chocolate after getting the old pins working. I knew how much joy it gave me, but I never thought I would be in this situation, where I had to seriously rest again (just for a bit).

So the quandary became evident that I had a bad case of feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want to sit around eating worms and I had allowed myself a few days of mwah so I sent a request to the heavens for some lifting up and had a serious chat to myself, a coachy passionate pep talk.

What can I do to make myself feel better? How do I alter my attitude? What would make me feel good?
A trip to a tropical island….nope not this week.
A back rub from Johnny Depp while a I smoke a cuban cigar?…nice but not probable..
I read a few books…and I prayed again. Asking for patience and maybe just a little something to lift me up.

Then there was a knock on the door, (I am serious, it was within minutes) I received a beautiful big bunch of flowers, so colourful and gorgeous and a bundle of letters. I opened the letters and there were cards from very special children all signed with messages of hope and love. My friend’s children had written cards with their classmates sending prayers of good health and healing. Another friends beautiful daughter had drawn a card with us together on it. A few tears later and I was lifted. Well and truly Blessed huh?

A few little choices that may not be politics changing huge are actually stepping stones to feeling good, abundant and blessed. They are spiritually huge, human kind huge.

Those precious little people chose to write me a card. A special friend chose to send flowers. I chose to pray. We all synchronistically made a choice and it resulted in shooing away negativity to the nasty little corner it belongs in. There’s that Alchemy at work again. Even as I type this I feel that gratitude rising up again, thats the cool thing about Joy, it has a residue that can keep repeating in your chest like positive reflux!

Just about Every crappy situation can have a silver lining somewhere. (I say JUST as we are human and there are a lot of things that go on in the world that Im sure aren’t silver) How could I get to a place where I am thankful to my illness?

Being in that situation makes you really reflect and take a big gulp when you view your life from a different angle of no bullshit. Trust me when I say don’t waste your time.

Because ONE day and hopefully its when you are 85 plus, but one day you WILL look at your life from this perspective. You do not want to be looking at it saying “I wish i did, I wish I didnt, I wish I had.” You want to be able to sit there and say “Man! I gave that a crack! I gave it everything I had, and it sure was a ride!”

You see I don’t think we give ourselves permission. Sometimes its a lack of confidence, resources etc.

I had years of doing work I was good at but actually detested. I am lying there thinking What would I really like to be doing? Why would I like doing this? What can I offer? Can it generate an income? I have a family to support as well, so the practical is relevant. Is my intention right?
I came up with a list.
Life IS Short
I want to be with my kids, available to them, home after school
I love making candles, Im passionate about Eco products, it fascinates me
I want to be creative
I know I can make an excellent and unique product
I know I could do this EVERY day and never get sick of it.

So… I started making a list of all the things I needed to do and learn to turn my hobby into a profitable business. I had plenty of time to do this whilst recuperating. Thats where the second chapter for me started, with that choice, the choice to give myself permission. I would not have made this choice had I not been so unwell. I would not have justified it, I would have made common sensical excuses, resistance and I had so many people around me so full of common sense trying to talk me out of it. Folk can be so insightful and awfully sensible and willing to rain on one’s parade sometimes!

There is only one choice; Infuse passion into your life, any bloody way you can.

Only good things can come from it. If its sport, painting, writing, healing, counselling, jumping, nutrition, running, weight lifting, bee keeping, flying, jewellery making…..anything. The people that say don’t live with regrets know what they are on about. You will think these thoughts one day, you will reflect on them one day. End of story. Also take time to contemplate these thoughts, reflect. Take a moment. Take a breath.

I give this advice to you free of charge friend, trust me on it.

Give yourself a time frame to make it happen, make a plan, what are the best things that can happen from it? What are the worst things? Action the plan, and the Alchemy starts again, your choice is like a seed you plant, suddenly it grows! Your life . Your choices. Its all about making good choices. The old free will is a magical seed, what you infuse it with will grow. If you want a stale, ugly twisted vine to grow, then make that choice. Me? I will take the gigantic shiny scary beanstalk thanks! If you believe in and love what you do I believe its a very organic process that starts to take place, it feeds into what you are doing and shines a light on it. Passion can be infectious.

Zen of the Hidden Sock

What a surreal week this has been.

The messages we have received have been like messages-in-a-bottle of poignant hope and prayers bumping pleasantly into our little safe raft in a crazy ocean whipping us around like crazy.

I have slept and meditated a lot, it has helped when I have managed to get into a somewhat attempt at a Zen-like state…much to my children’s frustration.
Master 8 : “Man she’s meditating AGAIN! She’s always meditating.”
Master 12: “She has to meditate otherwise she will forget the shopping list again…”
Master 8: “Well can she meditate her way into the laundry and get my socks? Muuuuum!!!!!!”

For the love of God what is the go with socks?

Can someone from Apple or NASA please invent a sonic tracking device so socks can stick together like an old married couple, because this week it has driven me mad. It’s time for socks around the world to be reunited! Pretty please?

Got to love kids huh? Mine are amazing. I know all parents say this and my friends may read this thinking Great here she goes again… but my kids are the brave and wondrous kind. From the moment they were born they captured me in a web of entrapment. I fell completely and utterly in love with these little time wasters and the house has never been clean since. Hence the sock dilemma. Their honesty and affection and ability to just do what we have to do has made me step back and look at them as my little teachers. Children do not think in future terms of fear they are often present and think in the immediate. Is mum ok now? Yup, good. Are we having ice cream tonight? Ok then. There is no point in thinking in future fears, so often kids don’t. I admire this and I take something from it. My children have truly taught me so much about myself and the world, I think children have the amazing ability to observe in honesty without social approval or time terms.

My bigger boy, the old ball and chain Blue eyes has been my armchair, cushion and open fire of warmth, love and reassurance. He is brave.

I couldn’t ask for more from this one who holds my hand. 18 years have gone so fast, we were only laughing yesterday about how quickly it had gone and how lucky we both are that we are still so completely in love with each other. We fight and argue, we are total opposites in so many hilarious and almost comedic ways and yet for whatever reason the stars have aligned and we are still head over heels. Corny, eye-ball-rolling stuff huh? Nice.

This week’s blog is a shorter one. I’m sitting here tonight in an apartment with my husband, daughter, 2 girlfriends, 3 brothers, Mum, Dad and my Aunt and Uncles and sister in law. It’s a football team of love and support. We have laughed, hugged, cried and watched YouTube funny videos, even tried to recreate KimKardash’s butt pose (fully clothed don’t panic) all getting a bit crazy and it’s just bloody Beautiful. I want to spend some time with this nutty mob, so I won’t bore you with 1000 words plus.

I have to tell you sincerely I have never felt so loved in my life.

I am going into this so wrapped up in faith, love and grace like sweet cotton wool. It is snuggly and I am grateful. My whole body seems to respond. It starts off with goosebumps on my arm and becomes a warmth in my chest. Describing it is very difficult, the love I feel is so big is makes my chest ache.

I reflect on this Big Love and it’s a bit of a shame in some ways. It occurs to me today that it took me to get to this point of my life to allow this love in 100%. I’ve always loved others in my life with ease and might. If I care about someone, I really empathetically care with all I have the best that I can. BUT I have only ever taken the word of others that they love me. YUP messed up huh? I’ve not actually allowed myself to let my self be loved. To actually feel someone love me as a chest warming receiving of love is another matter entirely and has not come easy. Now I am OD-ing on it, something has cracked open and the love is flowing in. It’s incredibly overwhelming and I am as high as a kite on it, it makes me teary and full.

So in a way I am looking forward to when all is well again and I can run around in these new “loved” shoes.

I have a feeling my life is about to become very different in a most incredible way. I’m not sure how but it’s going to be fun working it out. Tomorrow is the day, in about 7 hours I will walk down to the Alfred and let these magic makers do their thing.

Last week about 2 am I woke up with a few lines in my mind and wrote them down. I’ve re-read them over and over and they seem to bring me comfort, so I will share them with you:

Do not be afraid, go with ease,
Walk humbly and gently,
Embrace your observer inside,
Open your heart and just be,
You will enjoy the ride so much more I promise.

See you soon,
Kirst

Ponderings Whilst Peeling Potatoes

A week from today, I go in for surgery. I have to admit there have been a few times I have felt like a cow being loaded up to walk the green mile… what’s really behind that door? Hmmm.

The funny thing is in all these life stopping moments, that in fact does not stop, it continues. Clothes need to be washed, and the potatoes need to be peeled.

It was during a particular potato peeling moment that I was reflecting about my friendships and some memories in particular.

Primary School at Haslem St 3620 was perfect. We had a class that pretty much stayed together for the entire 6 years. And if memory serves me right we were all friendly, to me, my class felt like a big family. I often reminisce about those days, and it fills me with a pleasant nostalgia. I had beautiful close-knit girlfriends that I still hold dear to my heart today, and thanks to the wonders of Facebook some of us still keep in touch intermittently.

Some of you who may know me or knew me as a kid may know that I was the kid without an eyelid. I was born perfectly formed albeit a lovely piece of skin that closes over one eye and zero eyelashes. It was extremely noticeable at an early age, gradually it improved with a multitude of operations. My mum says I was the first kid in Australia to be born with this condition. Wow! I think I would have preferred to be the first kid born with X-ray vision or super fast muscle twitch fibers but beggars can’t be choosers!

The gorgeous thing about primary school for me was that not ONE kid ever teased me in my class. I was never really aware of my disfigurement most of the time, which was bliss. Kids can be cruel, but my kids weren’t. My fellow primary schoolers were kind and fun.

Things changed once high school started.

We all know what High school is like, it’s survival mode and every kid for themselves, kids are trying to fit in, work themselves out a bit, hormone-crazed. I found myself suddenly a concave polygon trying to fit into a square. Not a great fit and a bit hard to breathe. I remember the day it dawned on me that I was the Green Sheep, I was a misfit and more than likely considered weird.

There were a few kind souls who became ‘protectors’ and looked out for me, but I still didn’t quite fit. The eccentricities in my character that were appreciated and found humorous in Primary school suddenly created a very different reality. My clothes mattered, my looks mattered, what street I lived on mattered, and I wasn’t funny anymore, and thanks to a ridiculously thin metabolism I was rake thin, scarily so. Skeletor and Ana-rex were nicknames coined. I yearned for chunky thighs and boobs.

“The best years of your life.” Nope. It should have been liberating, but the liberation didn’t happen until about Year 9. I don’t even recall now how it happened. But suddenly I found my crew, my little group of fellow misfits. I thought they were  so cool, so awesome and they didn’t mind me hanging around. But suddenly I had treasure, so precious to me. A gold nugget kept tightly to my chest…I would never forget what it felt like to be alone and unliked, it was shattering. To actually have these humans not only like me but really care was like winning kid lotto. I was 10 foot tall and bulletproof! So I never resented or regretted my oddness or lack of fit, because without it I wouldn’t have found my fellow freaks. No beige here. No apologies.

One of them was so kind she tried to do eyelash replacement therapy with permanent ink when I was asleep at a birthday party. The spirit of acceptance. Its a magical word to a 15-year-old, Acceptance. Rolls off the tongue nicely, doesn’t it?

We were all good kids, but by God, we were ratbags, shockingly so at times.

Some of the antics particularly during later years make me laugh out loud now, full belly shake laughs even thinking about it. If I am totally honest, some of them make me cringe a little, actually… no, a lot. Teachers got tricks played on them, and a fair hint of rebellion. Those girls are still my girls now, they were our bridesmaids and are still my very best friends today. I say MY because it feels nice to have some ownership of our friendship. It is an Ego thing. I try to be a bit more enlightened, but its true. My ego still rolls around in the dirt like a happy puppy that I have friends, yippee!!!!

One of these lovelies sent me a Brain Surgery Kit after my craniotomy. The contents were golden. Panadol, a clown wig to cover my bald head and some fake eyelashes, some aspirin and a reminder not to feel sorry for myself. I was alive wasn’t I? Blind I may have been, but my humour was not lost. I am sure that if they were with me in rehab, they would have been trying to move the furniture.

Perceptions are funny things, aren’t they? Here I was in High School, a walking sponge, truly deeply shy but prone to extraverted outbursts trying to be funny to divert the attention away from my awkwardness. I am quite sure I looked like a knob a lot of the time. But that humour and the perseverance to try to be me, or not try too hard to fit in preserved some parts that were the cornerstones of survival some 20 years later.

I has a lot of people that held the perception of my situation as the suckiest most horrendous of circumstances the first time round.

Saying goodbye to my kids? Yeah, that was sucky. Not knowing if I would survive the surgery? Again, truly sucky. But waking up and finding out I was blind and had to learn how walk again and live again? Well that had its moments, but it was an adventure. 

I got to walk in a blind person’s shoes, and whilst at times it frightening, like any adventure it was fascinating. The eyes are not only the window to your soul but your perception. My other senses went into overdrive picking up the slack, and there wasn’t much I missed out on after 2 weeks. It was here I learned the art form of incorrect perception. We are visual creatures, therefore if you cannot see a person, don’t know what they are wearing, what their body language is doing or how they look; you can’t get a grasp on them.

Suddenly you start picking up on vocal cues, feeling with your gut instead of your eyeballs. People that I thought were sometimes super assured had voices that portrayed a hidden nervousness or shyness that I would never have supposed with vision. The only thing that was really sucky though was a house with double brick walls, if you walk into them, they are very unforgiving, and brick marks in your forehead aren’t a great Winter accessory. You think blind, you think fear, dark, vulnerable. But again this wasn’t entirely correct. Shaving your legs is dangerous and there’s no point of having Art anymore. I know right? I could hear a fart a ward away. Now THAT dearhreart is a super power.

Learning to walk made me look later at babies learning to walk with a whole other miraculous perception. Walking 3 metres took 30 minutes and half my body weight in sweat. It was amusing too sometimes. It was. honestly and inappropriately. One side of my body learned quicker than the other and I do believe I may have invented two new dance moves.

I never again ran on these legs without a big smile on my face, to be able to run is a miracle. It really is. Trust me on that one. But my point here is, I had just about every physical ability taken away from me, and I had to earn it back. It was hard work, but I wouldn’t change it. Because it enhanced my perception of everything. You become an observer, and life is fascinating to observe. You pay more attention to your surroundings,(you don’t want to trip) but at the same time sometimes having to earn back the basic functions makes you understand that we can trip in life by not paying attention. People hide so much and because we are visual, we make assumptions about each other. If things aren’t obvious we don’t always see them.

It occurs to me regularly that the person acting strange or scowling might have something huge going on you know nothing about. If you are a teenager, an adult whoever you are, take a moment to See the person you come into daily contact with, heartache isn’t always apparent. Trust me on that one. Everyone has their pain and their journey they are on. Some are obvious and apparent, but most are hidden.

If there is a friend you haven’t spoken to or you miss, ring them. What is the worst thing that can happen? They might hang up. But you haven’t lost anything. I have lost a couple, and its an unfortunate thing to happen over the years. I’m not sure whether I left them behind at the supermarket or dropped them in the street, but they feel lost. Sometimes there’s a reason, sometimes its just distance or life in general. Sometimes it’s a good thing to release negative people from your life, of that I know about too. But if you miss them and they left a good imprint on your heart, it might be time to get in touch.

Life has bought new friends, sisters I treasure beyond words.

Friends are a wonder in this world.

It is less than a week away until I go in for the second surgery. Another aneurysm. This one nastier. Bigger. Deadlier. No operation though, all through an a little thread from my groin to my brain with a new tech called a FRED. I don’t look sick. But I have to kiss my three children on the forehead and convince them I am going to be okay. I have to say goodbye to them knowing there is a very real chance I may not see them again for a long time. I have written them all letters of advice, kept in a secret location. I have my affairs in order. How weird is that? But their faces reassured holds my strength together. We will be okay. Whatever happens, we are all going to be okay. For a while it felt like I had to leave the really cool party everyone else gets to stay and have fun at. That wasn’t a great feeling. Captain Obvious.

I am surrounded by humbling prayers and support. There are a lot of little miracles going on every day around me. My perceptions are kicking in on a whole other level now LOL. I am surrounded by super friends, I shall try not to roll around in the dirt too much.

The realness of life, the reminiscing of the moments that are the most important are always filled with the memories of laughter and friends and the importance of being kind. Always be kind. Family is important, the friend type and the relation type. Mostly the tribe type.

My family is a powerhouse of collective awesomeness.  We are having a good time together, laughing, crying and being a tribe. I have a feeling come December I will probably be cringing at my honesty on these pages, being naked and self-indulgent assuming you will want to read this. I pray your perception shall be pleasant! Now I must go, for whilst I ponder with you I have a child yelling out for me to find some socks and I have more potatoes to peel…

 

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