Juggling life

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Juggling life

Sometimes I sit down at the end of the day and think to myself “What the hell have I completed today?” And yet, I’m completely exhausted and my legs are throbbing and I am just spent.

Why is it as women and mothers, we always look at life and what we do and how we do it and speak about it negatively? Why is the glass always half empty? Why is our self talk so twisted and depressing? My mother always spoke so highly of me and my dad is my number 1 fan my whole life. He always said to me…

You could be a model. You could be anything you put you mind to Despina.

I’m sure that you had people in your corner your childhood years. So what’s with the turn around. Yes I have PND. Yes I am juggling everything in my life. But why is everything I think about so negative? Why is it that I look at the current state of my house, and for everything that I have done today, my legs even hurt, I cannot but think what more there is to do – or – how I haven’t completed everything that I wanted to do on my never ending and constantly growing task list.

My husband looks at me like I’m just crazy.

Babe, you’ve done enough today. I’m so proud of you. You deserve to sit down and… (Rest/ enjoy the kids/ blog/ write/ relax/ drink a hot cuppa)

But I just can’t! If I don’t complete it, then who will? I always feel the constant criticism that it’s just not good enough. But the criticism comes from ME! No one else. No other crazy person would even dare say to me what I say to me. And nor I would never say to another human being who is just trying to survive in the world, what I think of myself. So what is it that makes our self talk like this?

Being a mother of a girl (4 years) and a boy (11 months), I really think about our talk to each other. Internally and externally. My 4 year old is my number 1 support and she will protect me no matter what. It just worries me that she will have the same empty feeling of perfectness that I do. That feeling of whatever you do, how much you do of it, how tied you are and how many ticks off your checklist you’ve completed, it’s just never ‘enough’.

And that’s not a life that I want my children to have.

Love and awesomeness XX 

There’s gotta be more to life

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There’s gotta be more to life

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In the 90’s there was this girl, Stacie Oricco, who sang this beautiful song – ‘(There’s gotta be) More to life’. Being a 19 year old girl working out who she wanted to become in life this song really became my mantra.

Yeah, yeah
Oh oh, yeah
I’ve got it all, but I feel so deprived
I go up, I come down and I’m emptier inside
Tell me what is this thing that I feel like I’m missing?
And why can’t I let it go?
There’s gotta be more to life than chasing down
Every temporary, high to satisfy me
‘Cuz the more that I’m
Tripping out thinking there must be more of life
Where there’s life, but I’m sure there’s gotta be more
Than wanting more
I’ve got the time and I’m wasting it slowly
Here in this moment, I’m half way out the door
Onto the next thing, I’m searching
For something that’s missing
There’s gotta be more to life than chasing down
Every temporary, high to satisfy me
‘Cuz the more that I’m
Tripping out thinking there must be more of life
Where there’s life, but I’m sure there’s gotta be more
I’m wanting more
I’m always waiting on something other than this
Why am I feelin’ like there’s
Something I missed? Yeah
There’s gotta be more to life than chasing down
Every temporary, high to satisfy me
‘Cuz the more that I’m
Tripping out thinking there must be more of life
Where there’s life, but I’m sure
There’s gotta be more to life than chasing down
Every temporary, high to satisfy me
‘Cuz the more that I’m
Tripping out thinking there must be more of life
Where there’s life, but I’m sure
There’s gotta be much to life, yeah
More to, more to, more to life yeah, there’s gotta be much to life
More to, more to, more to life, there’s gotta be much to life

Now being just into my 30’s I never thought that this song would ring more true. In the downward spiral I’m feeling currently, from my PND to a total disconnect with my husband and not feeling in the moment with my children, I have to wonder… there really has to be more, doesn’t there?

I work, in fact, I have a job and run my own business. I have two children – one 4 and one 10 months. I have a husband who thinks like all men I guess, that what they do is must more important and much more tiring than what I do. I’m on the kinder committee. I have my mother-in-law stay with us twice a week. Bills to pay. Swimming lessons. Greek school. Kindergarten. Child care. Lunches. Dinners. PND.

But there really has to be more… doesn’t there?

Why is it that every time I think about getting older or passing away I think to myself what am I leaving behind. What part of me or my life is going to live on forever. Will people look back and say:

Oh Des, yes, she was the person who…

And they are not.

I will have my children carry on my legacy. But will my children’s children? Or my children’s children’s children? Probably not.

So what is it that I can leave behind? What mark can I imprint on this world that is just of me and only me? What is this life that I make for myself that I am proud of and can look back upon to truly be fulfilled?

I’d be interested to hear your comments or ideals on this. Please write something that you are thinking or feeling and I’d love to have a discussion on some thoughts, or ideals.

I would love to be the first woman to actually fly. Now that’s a mark on this Earth I would be proud of.

Love and awesomeness

Xx

Control & PND

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Control & PND

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Suffering Postnatal Depression sometimes causes me to reflect before I spiral down to the depressing abyss.

This week has been a lot of reflection.

I have come to the realisation that my PND was mainly caused by having so many tasks on my to-do list and not knowing where to start so becoming so overwhelmed and disorganised that I cannot look into my life and just begin doing what needs to be done.

Please don’t get me wrong, this is not the same for everyone but the rollercoaster of motherhood for me has made me feel this way. And for my Miss 4, the feelings of my PND were completely different to that of Mr 1. With Miss 4 it was more of a depression that was so debilitating that I would cry. Having hallucinations and sweats, I wouldn’t leave the house, not even to get the mail. I would be so depressed I wouldn’t do any housework, or even have a shower. PND with Mr 1 is completely different. I was overwhelmed. With so much to do, and so little time, energy, logic, sanity, I just couldn’t bare it. I couldn’t stand having to look after two children, plus work my two jobs, plus housework, dinner, errands, payments, tidying, organising, hubby, dog, cat, cleaning, showering, beautifying…. I couldn’t stand it. So, I wouldn’t do any of it.

I have come to realise that all of that was cause I wanted the Woman’s Weekly life.

You know, the house so clean you could eat off the floor, the perfect post baby bod, the lovely hair styled hair with the flawless makeup. Kids happily playing the background while you sit at your dinner table with a wine.

That was not me.

I was the woman that all the other woman stare at in the supermarket. You know the one. She’s carrying the baby who is screaming while the toddler runs up and down the isles knocking over everything from the shelf onto the floor. Her hair is a knotted mess that wasn’t been washed or even brushed in weeks. She’s wearing sweats cause that’s all she could find on the floor, which aren’t even clean – covered in dog hair and vomit, not necessarily from the baby.

You know, we all look at her and think:

How could you have gotten it all wrong woman? How could you have your children making noise like that? Oh and how dare you even come out of the house looking like that?

Please let make a stance and realise that we don’t know her back story. She hasn’t been out of the house for over 3 months. This was her first outing with two children in toe and they were both so hungry as there was absolutely no food in the house. So she took the steps needed to get to the supermarket and get her children something to eat as hubby wasn’t coming home for hours. We should be proud of her. Not judging her. We should walk up to her, pat her on the back and tell her she’s doing a fantastic job.

Because, really, she is woman and she is an amazing human being.

I would like to thank Jess from Forever Organised who this week I have completed her 14 day Blissfully Productive course (link below) and without her and this course I wouldn’t be feeling so close to my normal self in over 4 years. I smile more and laugh more and most of all I feel much more in control and I think with PND, control is one true thing I was missing.

Jess this post goes out to you. I am truly inspired by you. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done.

Please post & comment as I would love to hear all your experiences on PND and where you feel like your loosing control in your lives.

Love and Awesomeness

Des

Xx

Link to see Jess’ blog Forever Organised

Sometimes life gives you lemons

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You look at your life, how you got to this spot in time right now. Where you are at right at this moment in time. 

I’m in a ford, hubby driving us to our Easyer holiday destination, I’m writing, two children and our dog asleep in the back.

I’m whole. Content. At peace. Full. I’m happy.

Wow. Those words I haven’t been able to say for a very long time. But yes, I am happy. My heart really is full. It’s taken us a long a time to get to this wonderful world of heart fullness and I know a lot of other couples have struggled too. But you know what? It makes us who we are, it gives us a footprint into the earth and helps us stay grounded. I’m not saying that everyone has a rainbow at the end of every single storm, but there is a break in between storms and even though the sun doesn’t shine, there is no rain and that means you can go outside and face another day. Believe me, I know.

Being a mother of a brand new baby I thought I had the picture perfect life I wanted. Married, home owner, career goer, mother of a beautiful baby girl. I had the magazine life. The picket fence. So why in hell was I so unhappy? I would cry all night and pretend to smile all day. I would leave my baby in the cot to scream while I stared at a wall. I would scream in my living room while everyone else was having dinner because I thought people were coming to kill me. So how did my picture perfect life get to be such a mess? 

I tell you why, because no body prepares new mothers to how it’s really going to be. How shit it is. How exhausting. How degrading. How it just throws all common sense out the window. Yes other ‘more experienced’ mothers tell you little dribs and drabs. But I have never been grabbed by the shoulders and shaken while another mother screamed at me – in my face “It’s the fucking worst time of your whole entire life! EVER!” Now then I would really start to think about how my life is going to change. And most of the time, not for the better. 

Sleep torture is what they do to terrorists and extreme criminals to wear them down. And here I am trying to look after another human being and kept them alive, while I’m being tortured. Well that’s a nice ‘welcome to the world’. And breastfeeding sucks. Like really, truly sucks. It’s not the most natural thing in the world and I’m sick of 70 year old men in shopping centres staring at my breasts while I’m trying to feed.

How do we expect woman to cope? How in this day and age do we judge and blame and point fingers at mothers and expect this picture perfect family bubble. How can this be fair on first time mums? 

Well I didn’t cope. I didn’t have it all under control. I cried all the time and when I wasn’t crying, I was angry, really angry. My dishes never were done. My laundry was completely overflowing with dirty clothes because either she vomited or I did. I would leave her cry and I would go outside to breathe. I would shoot out of bed at night in a complete sweat because a mob with pitch forks and fire torches were coming to kill me because I wasn’t a good mother. Finally at my 8 week heal nurse appointment I took a test. I had PND. Post natal depression. 

I was given a pill. 

Looking back now I wish I could have bonded with my baby more. I wish I loved her from the moment she arrived. I wish I looked into her cute little face and kissed those cheeks and told her how much she means to me. Because she truly is my whole world. The love of my life. I really would do anything for her, take a bullet for her, break my own heart for her. And that’s something no one can take from us. She’s my best friend. Now that I want for every mother. 

Love and amazingness – you truly are amazing

Des X

P.S. I’m a true believer in taking some time out as a mum, some ‘me time‘. This is my ‘me time’ creation. Very relaxing. X

  

Well that was a big disaster!

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It’s taken me to get out here to realise how long it has been since I have posted anything… Putting pen to paper again, (OK, fingers to an iPad, but still…) feels so damn good – I cannot believe I have forgotten that feeling. Looking out to the serenity of the warm Australian sunshine and outback land, along the great ocean road, feeling at ease in my head and my mind right at this moment, I cannot believe I haven’t done it sooner. Looking around me and thinking that I have nothing on my mind, things to do, or have to get done, chores, bills to be paid, de-cluttering or organising to complete. I’m at rest. Why I hear you ask? Because I’m away from the household, away from the everyday stresses that life throws at me. Away from the day-to-day grind of children crying and husbands whining and a baby constantly at my boob. Away from someone always wanting something. Not the pink ate, the purple plate. The baby wants to be picked up. Husband wants chops for dinner not chicken. Not needing or having to make a decision about anything. True peace.

So being out here on the great ocean road has made me realise one thing, well a couple of things really, but one I wanted to mention to you… Three months ago I started this journey – this blogging journey. And I’ve written one post. ONE post! How rude I am. So I’d like to apologise to you, I’m sorry, sorry for being busy, for not posting to you, not updating you on life and fun and amazing discussions and thoughts and just life. So here we go, second post…

Three months since I welcomed my second child into the world. Three months, since I heard his first little cry coming out of my ceaser scar. Three months since his tiny little mouth try to suck from my big breast. Three months since feel anxious about his arrive. Suffering Post-natal depression with my first born, I was very concerned that there would be a repeat offence this time around. First holding my son I was so happy and worried, it’s an amazing feeling. But I was scared. Breastfeeding was the part where I felt most concerned. Having trouble with my eldest, attachment, cracked nipples, mastitis, hospitalisation, fear of judgement by strangers and staying inside, continuosly lead to my PND. Women need to understand that breastfeeding is learned, by both the mother and the baby. Although they say that breastfeeding is natural, it’s not natural while learning it. When you become a mother, you want to do everything right – and yes, breast is best, but when it costs you your mental stability and sanity, mothers need to realise that there are other choices. Although, my husband wouldn’t let me formula feed, looking back I think it would have been the best choice for me. There are so many pressures from society, not just to breast feed, but to ensure your baby is drinking enough, has enough wet nappies, sucking for long enough, pooing enough, being cleaned enough, smiling, laughing rolling, meeting all of their developmental milestones too! I felt trapped. Not only did this little human want me to feed it, it needed me. And because I would feed in public, I didn’t go anywhere. Hence, PND was born. I knew something wasn’t right about a month after my eldest was born. But it wasn’t until the edinbrough test, my maternal child health nurse gave me until it was determine I had PND. And really, I should have known, I was hallucinating. To the point where I couldn’t open the front door because I thought a mob, with pitch forks and lives and swots and torches were coming to kill me because I was a bad mother. Or so it seemed in my head. The health nurse said to me that they start to worry about mothers who calculate 6 or more on the test. I scored 18.

So being pregnant again with my second opened up some big concerns. Everyone asked me if I suffered depression with my eldest, to which I replied yes – why was I to lie? But it was great that all the health professionals knew and they were aware come this baby. Three months on and several edinbrough tests later, and no depression! And yes, I have my days. What mother has To? But I believe that it all comes down to confidence. I truly believed I was a bad mother first time around. This time, I believe I am the best. My expectations have changed. Yes, I’m never up to date on my washing, my house could do with serval cleaners and my cooking… I take the chance to sleep and my husband cooks. My mother hates the fact that I have a messy house, and with my first, I did too, I would cry over the state of it. Now? I play with my kids, I watch them smile and laugh and I get involved with them I texting together and with their father and with me. As my doctor says, change your expectations. Mine originally where to have a pristeen house and children sat in the background. Now my walls are filled with painting my daughter made for me and my sons first photo with Santa. I expect to put on one load of washing and one load of dishes every day – well I just think that’s being realistic and now I don’t cry anymore when the baby wakes up. I happily feed him. Thank you to whoever invented nipple shields.

Love and awesomeness xx

Ready… Set… Go! No… Wait.

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Here we are, writing my first blog entry, and to be honest – I’m nervous as hell. What to write – who to write – where to write? All questions running around my head and I don’t know where to start. I’ve read so many blogs and gotten ideas, I’ve also read things like ‘how to start up your first blog’ and ‘things I wish someone had told me about writing a blog’ posts even some videos and now it’s just information overload. I can’t keep up. And to top it all off, I have Miss 4 yapping in my ear and little Master crying for a feed. 

I just want to write my blog people! Why does it have to be so hard? Surely it’s not rocket science… Surely it’s not going to be like this every single time I go to type something. If it was like this, then there wouldn’t be over a billion blogs on the Internet being updated daily with words coming out of their brains and into cyber space like they’re some sort of magical wizard.

So here I am on a Saturday night, as if I have anything else to do and thinking to myself that I should just write about my week so far. That has to be interesting enough to write about and then we can go from there.

Wednesday last week marked my 6 weeks post cesarean, and once I got the all clear from my obstetrician I set out to get behind the wheel again. It’s amazing how much you miss driving when you are so reliant upon everyone else around you to get places. And with my two children, doctors appointments, MCHN appointments, kinder, child care, swimming, gymnastics, supermarket and everything else I need to get to, it was magical to get behind the wheel again. And of cause, while rocking up to my grandma’s house, I drive into the side of her fence. Bugger. Far out I was extremely pissed. I mean, come on! Because yeah, I have $500 excess hanging around the house somewhere – probably under my bed. I haven’t been working since June people! It’s ok, The Batchelor is on – no need to panic. I can breathe. 

The next night Sam (The Batchelor) is down to his final three. Although, Heather didn’t make it. Can’t believe it. Swore she’d be the winner. Right – next pick, Lana. Has to be Lana.

Saturday morning, I walked straight into Weight Watchers. I have always been over weight, “big boned” they used to call me. Brutally bullied in primary and early high school and have lost some weight over time, my ‘final’ weight has gotten up there a fair bit. Into triple figures now. Miss 4 is looking up at me, asking for chocie biscuits because she’s been a good girl. What type of mother does that make me? I want to be the best I can be. Not just for me, but for her to, and little Master. So I got up on those scales, I owned it, I am strong enough. Right. There it is, in black and while, not only on those scales, but on every single paper document they give you upon sign up. 

105.1 kilos

There’s no looking back now. 

Day one. Breastfeeding makes you hungry. Good thing you can eat on weight watchers. You just need to be prepared and make sure your cupboards and fridge are stocked up on healthy lean foods. So I’m prepared. Meet day ones lunch below.  


Just looking at this is making me hungry…. I’m going to go and eat before I need to feed again.

Love and amazingness xox

Des

Remember to find the joy in the journey.