This morning was great. Up early, did a workout ate a banana and a Healthy Mummy smoothie and got picked up for a morning play date with my sweet nieces.
We went to one of our fave spots. Shibden Hall Park. It was a drizzly, over cast morning so it was pretty empty. We grabbed a coffee and got a picture of all the girls together, then headed up to the park to play.
Second workout of the day was pushing Scarlett on the swings. When I say swings I don’t mean conventional. I mean the big heavy net ones that swing and spin in all directions. Have you ever tried stopping one with a child on?! I’ll confirm; they are heavy. Pretty sure that will do for shoulders for a few days.
Stopped for lunch and had a salad to stay healthy. Yes, I’m being really good still… that’s 5 whole days. I better be slim and strong tomorrow!!
Had a phone call too when we were on our way home. We’re no further along in THE issue and I’m about to blow a gasket. How much more will I have to endure? How much longer will my patience last? And with the last question sweet heart, your guess is literally as good as mine.
This afternoon; dog pacing the room as baby had just eaten some snacks as he needed the loo. I open the front door to let him out in the garden. I shit you not, 2 perfectly white and fluffy feathers were just sat there. Right on the door step. Not sure how or why, and I’m always sceptical but this has to be a sign of better things to come. Then Aro (aka, demon dog) ate one. Stuck his wet nose in it, and licked it right up. I put the other in my purse in hope that it will act as some good luck charm. So maybe I’ll play the borderline believer now. The universe is going to take care of it? Maybe?
A white feather symbolises the following in the religion I would associate myself with (paganism):
• A glimpse or moment of awakening (like seeing number such as 11:11 Or 12:12)
• Trust and faith
• Blessings &Connection with the moon
• A visit from an angel
Here’s hoping right!?!
White feather blessings to you all.
After last night’s head clear out, I’m thinking differently again.
We all have issues. And I’m struggling with how to sort this one out. The key hasn’t been softly softly, so kicking it up a notch could be worth a shot. I’m finding it hard to know which part of the puzzle I am. To my story I am the central peice. To their story I’m not sure where I fit, which is why this issue is taking so freaking long to sort out.
With last night’s post (brain vomit) all over the blog, today has been a bit of a haze. Delilah and I went for a walk, had a clean up as I talked to myself. I babbled on about my issue; meticulously planning out different scenarios and what I would say to each. I’ve had that conversation so many times now that if it doesn’t happen in reality I might actually self combust!
Now I’m sat here thinking about spontaneously setting alight, or just imploading. Yes, that’s how my mind works.
Delilah has decided today that the only thing worth crawling for is a dog toy or a plug wire. The days of sitting her in the centre of her toys and nipping out the room to throw some washing in, or empty the dishwasher are just about to be over. I am glad she’s on the move. My sweet girl was getting frustrated just sat there some of the time and ended up being a right wingey thing. She likes to pull herself up too, so lowering the cot is a must this weekend before she decides to escape. As you can see from the pictures little miss D is very happy to have her doggy’s toy.
Onwards and upwards right?!
I’m still in limbo. Issues are still floating around and it’s driving me more mental that I already am.
I’m holding together each of my seams while juggling normal family life. I’m scared of a break down. Racing thoughts are being muffled and my chest feels like my heart is going to rip itself out.
This feeling is bleak.
Maybe the bitch will bite, because the sweet quiet girl isn’t getting results. Maybe it’s time to let the bitch out. The bitch gets results.
The anxiousness is making my chest heavy. I’m concentrating on more than one thing at once, so this post will probably make no sense.
I’m tired of not having what I want all the time. I see everyone around me building a life, and I can’t help but be envious of old school friends that have a huge perfectly new house or a fancy Merc. They go on all the luxury holidays, get married we’re talking like £20k weddings. And we’re struggling to continue saving for a house because I’m going through redundancy after being on maternity leave. And every time I get somewhere in my career, I’m knocked straight back on my arse. I can’t help but think “why me?” And “what the fuck did I do?”. I’m thankful for what I have, immensely so and I’d never change man, or baby but what the hell is wrong with wanting it all?
My heads a mess again tonight. I don’t like losing control, and the bitch make a me do that.
In other news; Delilah crawled forwards today rather than backwards. That’s a huge win for my little miss.
Back to the mental mess, I’ll figure it out I’m sure.
Through the hard days, like most people who deal with a mental illness, I loose my motivation. The smallest tasks see like a monumental effort.
The older I get and the wiser I become to my own mentality I’ve noticed that if I can completely the most simple task I have a better day.
MAKE YOUR BED.
It is as simple as that. Always make your bed. Straighten out your sheet, your duvet and fluff up them pillows.
The first task of the day. Do it like you want to even if you don’t. Take pride in making it look good. Tick it off your list and I promise you that you will feel more productive. It will start your day in the right way. You will feel good for accomplishing one of your daily tasks.
If it’s all down hill from there and it’s still a bad day (which it can be) you have a nicely made bed to get into. Regardless of the day, getting into a made bed is pretty damn good. It’s next to clean sheets and fluffy towels.
It wouls ve great to know how you get on. Leave me a comment on how you make a bad day good. Happy bed making.
Sometimes you have to remind yourself of who you are.
This morning I was sat in my god damn PJs waiting for my fave jeans of the moment to dry. I felt awful. Not myself, fat, sluggish, and just had no zing. I was putting of a catch up call with someone important, a call I should have probably made yesterday.
The problem with mental illness, is sometimes it gets in the way and convinces you that your voice isn’t worth hearing. When in actual fact it’s the most important voice in the room at that time. It scares you to speak out with what you actually want to say and it can stop you.
All of a sudden, I surprised myself by getting my arse in gear and arranging a time for the call. I’m not sure where the energy came from but it did and the call was fixed within the next 30 mins. Initially I was just going to stay in PJs (something I rarely do), I mean it was only a phone call right?!
Wrong! It wasn’t only a phone call. It was THE phone call that would clear some stuff up, a call that I’ve actually been dying to get out of the way. A call I’ve possibly avoided because I didn’t want to put my issues on to anyone else, but it needed to happen. It has been an inner conflict and argument I’ve had on repeat in my head.
I got dressed put on my war paint, including my bright red I-rule-the-world lipstick and I was ready for THE call. And I’m pleased to share, I managed to say everything I needed to in a professional and honest way; and hopefully saving face for both myself and the other participant. Fuck you bpd – I win!
I’m going to wear my red I-rule-the-world lipstick more often. It’s amazing what having your zing can do. If you get your zing from a lipstick or a Pinterest motivational quote search; use it to your advantage- who cares where you find it. Get a healthy vice that gives you a little confidence booster and use it like you would fuel in your car.
Sometimes we have to remind ourselves of who we are.
I’m Lotty Dawson; and FYI, I’m building an empire.