Monday, 27 June 2016

One thing I wish I did differently

There was a time when I wished I did absolutely everything differently. Every single personality trait I have, I wished was the opposite.

Everything I wished was different

I'm quiet - I wished I was... not loud exactly, but bubbly and articulate.
I'm an introvert - I wished I was an extrovert. 
I'm shy- I wished I was outgoing, fearless and confident.
I'm scatter-brained and disorganised - I wished I was focused and efficient.
I'm a drifter and daydreamer - I wished I was driven and disciplined.
I'm nonathletic and uncoordinated - I wished I was sporty. 
I'm a night owl - I wished I was a morning person.

Blah blah blah.

Luckily, I don't have any gender confusion. I don't wish I was a man. Except for rare moments in grotty public toilets when the ability to be able to pee standing up would be an asset. But I digress.

Have I come to terms with all of the above?

I would like to be able to say that I've triumphed over all of the above and am blissfully happy and contented with my quiet, scatter-brained, nonathletic, night-owl self. But I can't. Well, to be honest, being quiet and introverted doesn't bother me as much as it used to, (although it often continues to bother others). However, I still find myself wishing I was much more organised, driven and disciplined. 

I guess it's because I'd like to be able to have something to point to in self-defence. People may like to point out that I'm quiet, but then I'd like to be able say "Well yes, I am, but on the other hand I'm really efficient and organised."

Um, no. No, I'm not. And it kind of irks me, to be honest. I get all whiny and pouty and pissed off like a three year old being denied cake. Or a 45 year old. Details. Shut up.

 If I'm going to struggle in one area, why can't I have another that is a strength? Nope. Lucky me, I get to struggle with social skills and executive functioning.

Always be yourself

And to make matters worse, it's not like my Aspie brain decided to fixate on a really helpful special interest like say, math or, I dunno, gardening or something. My mind decides to fixate on Karen Carpenter. I can remember every little tiny detail I've read or heard about her career and life both good and bad, yet I can't remember where I put my glasses five minutes ago or which school notes are due or what day it is. It's probably Monday if I've posted this. Is it Monday?

The only thing this (my Karen Carpenter obsession) is useful for is time-wasting and making people look at you like you have two heads. Winning! 

That's why expressions like 'be yourself' and 'feeling comfortable in your own skin' annoy me. 

It seems like when advice like the former is doled out it really means: be yourself, but only if you're an outgoing, type A, driven extrovert. 

And I don't know if I'll ever be truly one hundred percent comfortable in my own skin at all times. Maybe accepting that I'm always going to be just a tiny bit awkward is as good as it gets. In this way perhaps I'll worry about it less. I can already see this working. I know I'm always the most quiet person in any given situation, but I can still show up and sit there with my resting bitch face on. It's all good. 

The ONE thing I wish I did differently

Of course I'm just over thinking. As usual. 

So I guess if I was going to pinpoint one thing that I wish I did differently it would be that. I wish I didn't over think about stuff. Especially all of the above. After all, people still genuinely like me the way I am. Some of them even love me and would lose a kidney for me if necessary. And they feel this way without me changing a thing. They like quiet, scatter-brained me, complete with a cake and Karen Carpenter obsession. Well, I'm sure Mickey Blue Eyes wishes I'd get over it at times, but I wish he'd get over his soccer obsession, so we're even. 

And some people will simply never like you even if you gave them a Ferrari, and that's OK. Being liked by everyone sounds exhausting to an introvert like me! 

I suppose I could try an experiment George Costanza style and do the opposite of every instinct I have for a day or two to see how it goes? But then I'd have to not eat cakies. Bugger that!

Yep, it's definitely time to stop over thinking. Now if only I could stop over thinking about over thinking....

I'll have to think about that...

Linking up for I Must Confess.

Linking up again for Friday Reflections.

What's the one thing you wish you did differently?

Monday, 20 June 2016

I freak out when...

Hello dear people. Today I am going to tell you what really, completely and totally freaks me the fuck out. It's freaky.

Here goes: 

I freak out when I see a cockroach. Unfortunately I have passed this trait on to my boys. Mickey Blue Eyes reckons I could be hired for sound effects in horror films. All they would have to do is put a cockroach in front of me. I emit the most blood-curdling, chilling scream of sheer horror. It is rather impressive for some one who is normally so quiet.

I freak out when I get dizzy.  This is a massive phobia for me. Weird. I guess it probably has a name.

I googled it. 

Apparently it is called  Dinophobia.

It all started 22 years ago when I jumped up quickly out of a chair when I was freaking out from seeing something on the telly that made me squeamish. (Yes, blood and guts and all that freaks me out, too!). I had a massive panic attack, hyperventilated and passed out. At the time I didn't actually identify it as a panic attack, because I'd never had one before.

I'm not sure if it was ongoing anxiety from that experience or the result of hitting my head when I passed out, but I then experienced frequent attacks of vertigo. It still freaks me out so much that I won't talk about it too much here. 

I don't understand how people enjoy going on amusement park rides and making themselves dizzy.  They are demented. I am not. The end. 

This phobia has changed who I am. I guess you could say that I've always been the scaredy cat person who was afraid of anything that threatened my equilibrium. 

As a child I was terrified of both escalators and elevators. To be honest it was never a claustrophobia thing, I just didn't like the sensation of movement. The feeling of the ground dropping and moving under you. It  totally freaked me out. I often avoided lifts. 

I also feared being on a boat or ferry because I didn't like the rocking sensation. Are you seeing a pattern here? I'm a 'two feet firmly on the ground' kind of girl. 

I can remember being terrified on a merry-go-round. Yes, I was a fun child. My brother and I often went to a park around the corner from my aunt's house. It had one of those rides that spin around. My brother LOVED it and I HATED it. 

"Scary-go-round" is a very apt name for this, if you ask me

So it's comforting to know that I haven't matured beyond the age of eight. Nice. I would still be terrified to spin around on those things. 

Next month we're headed to the Gold Coast. You won't see me on any rides at the theme parks. I'll happily mind the bags and jackets while Mickey Blue Eyes takes the boys on rides. I might even take a book. That's my kind of thrill seeking. Shut up.

I have to also confess that I freak out quite a bit every time I think about my breast cancer 'journey'/diagnonsense, which is often. It's the first thing I think about every morning, and the last thing I think about at night.

I am totally freaked out by the realisation that it was just random 'luck' that it was discovered and diagnosed when it was. It could have been so much worse. All I did was decide to go to the doctor for my pap smear. I didn't even receive a reminder for it like I normally would. Somehow I just had it in the back of my mind that it was due. I also knew I had to have some routine blood tests done. However, my GP had said to me mid last year that I could have left it until January if I wanted to. Between her saying that, and not receiving a pap smear reminder, I could easily have said to myself "Stuff it, I'll wait until January", but I didn't. THANK GOD I DIDN'T. I would have been so screwed.

As much as I wish the whole thing hadn't happened at all, it did. And my doctors say it was an early cancer. I wish I didn't have cancer at all, but at least I was 'lucky' that it was found relatively early. It's still a freaky feeling to think too much about the future and what may happen. Mickey Blue Eyes assures me that this is something that takes time. It took him a good few years to get past this fear. (He had bowel cancer in 2004). I guess it will always freak me out a little. But I'm learning that you live with uncomfortable feelings. I don't have to like them, but I can make room for them.

Speaking of freaking out, is everyone else quietly alarmed by how fast the year is flying by? It's almost the end of June and term two! Cue all the Facebook posts counting down the days until Christmas. Please don't tell me exactly how many days it is. I don't want to know. I'm freaking out. 

Well, that's enough freakyness from me. Now I'm freaked out because I don't know how to spell 'freakyness'. Is it freakiness or freakyness? Is it even a word? Who knows? 

I need it a cup of tea and a good lie down after all this freaking out. Later, people!  

Linking up for I Must Confess

Linking up again for  Friday Reflections

What is your weirdest phobia? 

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

My whole life is a domestic disaster

A peculiar sensation has come over me. I wonder what it is? Something so unfamiliar I cannot define it. I have to think about it before it unfolds in my mind. Yes, that's it. I'm smug.

I ticked off a list. That is HUGE. For me. I'm scatterbrained.

It seems to be a curious dichotomy about me that I crave order and routine, but am thoroughly inept and incompetent at actually creating at. Weird. 

I needn't have been so smug. Predictably my foray into organisation didn't last. And even when I have ticked these lists there is no discernible evidence of activity in my surroundings. My home still looks haphazard and sloppy. Sigh. 

This week I've looked into various organisational apps including  FlyLady, Habitica. Evernote and Todoist.

I was determined that the time had come when I would finally morph into a Domestic Goddess. With a capital D and a capital G.

Or maybe not. But that's okay, because what I lack in housekeeping skills I more than make up for in poetry writing skills. Yep, I'm poetic GENIUS. 

Here's proof: 

I need to have a schedule, a rythym, a routine
Make my home a sanctuary, immaculate, pristine

After all, I hear you say, you don't have an office job
You've no excuse for being such a lackadaisical slob

But, I reply, my house is frightfully pokey and tiny!
I glower and pout, all whingey and whiney

Before you judge me, why don't you do the math?
Don't patronise me with your presumptuous wrath

Residents total five, but rooms only seven
Hardly anyone's idea of domestic heaven

We live here in CHAOS*, clutter, confusion
Where 'Better Homes & Gardens' is just an illusion

And yes, I really must confess, it does cause stress
To live in pandemonium, such a muddled-up mess

But it seems that I'm a freak without the neat part
I want to clean it up, but don't know where to start

It's simple, you say, you have to make a list
Then tick it off, forget your daily Facebook tryst

Dutifully I write it down, commence the first task
It's tedious, time-consuming, school hours fly by fast

When the day is done there seems to be no reward
I'm grumpy, dissatisfied and frankly terminally bored

Snap out of it, you say, don't get into a tizzy
A dedicated Domestic Goddess must always keep busy

With my tears of anguish I slowly wash the dishes
The suds go down the sink along with all my wishes

Wishes for a gleaming home, all shiny and new
Lots of lovely, pretty things, a dishwasher too

Look, you say, all you need is a trip to Ikea

This is as appealing to me as explosive diarrhoea

But there's no time to waste, I have to cook dinner
Now's my chance to prove that I'm a culinary winner!

When I look inside the fridge my expression turns wary
Judging from it's contents I expect the dinner Fairy

Tsk, tsk, you admonish, don't you understand?
You should always have this sorted, make a meal plan!

Then get your children involved, everyone must help!
My kitchen is as big as a postage-stamp, I holler and yelp 

Ignoring your disdain, I defiantly order take-away
Getting out of bed was my biggest mistake today

Sure, I could have put some soup on and left it to simmer
But the chance of it being  eaten? Not even a glimmer! 

I should have tried harder, worked longer and faster
It seems MY WHOLE LIFE is a domestic disaster! 

Before long it's time to go bed and admit defeat
So I can get up and do all again. Rinse. Repeat. 

It's something that is terribly difficult to explain
It's not my fault that I have a typical Aspie brain

I struggle with something called executive function
Forgetting absolutely everything expect to have my luncheon

Now I sit here still feeling dejected and forlorn
I want a clean house, but I'm constantly torn

Somehow I never achieve anything no matter how I slog
For now I say forget it, I'd much rather write this blog! 

You're welcome. 

*CHAOS = Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome

Side note: as I'm about to hit publish on this post, my house is actually surprisingly tidy (for me). So I've got about a half hour window for anyone to drop in right now. Oh wait. It's school pick up time. The boys will be home shortly. CHAOS again! Oh well, I tried! 

Linking up (late!) for I Must Confess

What is your biggest domestic disaster?

Monday, 6 June 2016

The One Where I Wonder About Winter

I Must Confess I am definitely NOT a winter person. I'm not a summer person either. I'm an in between kind of person. I don't tolerate the cold or the heat. 

I guess I'm Goldilocks when it comes to weather: I want it to be juuust right. The autumn weather was perfect. Gorgeous and sunny through the day, crisp and cool at night without being freezing. 

People always claim that it's 'easy' to warm up in winter, but impossible to cool down in summer. I have never personally found this to be true. My feet and/or hands are permanent blocks of ice during winter. So I'm one of those helpful people who constantly whinges about the weather for at least half the year. You're welcome.

While we're speaking about all things winter, here's another confession: I've never seen snow. 

That's right, I'm 45 and I've never seen snow. It just doesn't snow in Sydney. And I've never been anywhere where it does. I suspect I would not tolerate that sort of weather at all. The idea of being beside a fire with snow falling outside does seem romantic and fanciful, but the reality might be a tad different. There is probably a lot of shoveling involved. I am not good with shovels. Plus you have to put chains on your car tyres or something. It would be TERRIFYING for me to drive in snow.

You'd probably have to invest in thermal underwear. As it is I already wear several layers. I don't need more. When I was young I used to wear a singlet, a spencer (remember those?) and a skivvy with a jumper over the top. I have no idea why I'm telling you that. It was just a random memory. 

I guess there are good things and bad things about all the seasons. Besides, there's not much point complaining about something you can't control anyway. Doesn't seem to stop me, however.

Here's a handy little list I compiled for no other reason but to amuse myself and bore entertain you: 


  • I seem to have become a hat and scarf person. Well, I have dyke short hair at the moment (not that there's anything wrong with that, as the saying goes), so my noggin gets a bit cold. Beanies are my friend.  I look fabulous in them! Or something. Meh, they're warm, anyway. Shut up. 

  • It's much easier to exercise when it's not stinking hot and humid and you're already dripping with sweat before you begin. In fact, a bit of movement is necessary to warm up. That can't be a bad thing. Especially considering my next point...

  • Comfort eating/food. I always want hot food in Winter. Which can be a good thing if you're an excellent cook. If you're a bit dodgy like me, you end up making a pot of soup that tastes like arse. Consequently you end up eating everything else except the nourishing soup you intended to have. Side note: I know what you're thinking. How do I know what arse tastes like? It's what I imagine arse could taste like. It tasted very, very bad is what I'm getting at. 

  • But never mind the terrible arse-tasting soup, because winter is a peak time for birthdays in my family. First Mr 14 becomes Mr 15 next month. CAKE! Then my mum turns 75! MORE CAKE! Then Mickey Blue Eyes turns 53! EVEN MORE CAKE!!! ALL. THE. CAKE!!!! To prevent the afore-mentioned cake from being arse-tasting, it will all be store bought. I think this is a wise move. 

  • You HAVE TO drink some wine or scotch in order to warm up. Medicinal purposes only, people. I am forced to do this. I suffer through it like the trouper I am. Shut up. 


  • Getting out of bed.
  • Cold feet and hands.
  • Getting colds, especially the dreaded 'Man Flu'.
  • The after effects of all the comfort eating.
  • I drink so much tea that I need to pee all the time.
  • The only places I can get warm are in bed (and sometimes not even there), in the shower and sometimes in the car in the middle of the day. This makes it frightfully difficult to get anything done.
  • It's harder to get all the washing dry. 
  • When you run out of  your medicinal wine or scotch and it's too cold and wet to be bothered going out to get some more. 

End of lists. 

We have had some frightfully wet and dismal weather here over the weekend, but in the end I didn't mind because rainy days mean I can curl up with a book. I might be becoming a winter person after all... 

Who knew? 

Linking up for I Must Confess

Are you a winter person?