Some Dates – Not all men can handle a strong womare sweet when you remember them…
One minute, you are planning for your big wedding day.
Three months later and your baby girl is going to BIG school and asking for a baby sister – not a baby brother .
Because Mommy may have told her boys stink!
Mommy may have said
‘woah-easy- who do you think has to carry this brother or sister of yours?’
‘Daddy’ – came her reply.
Oh, I do wonder how excited men would get about making babies if they knew what they had in store for them ?
9 months of mind and body possession.
All totally worth it of course…. 😉
I mean, then you look at this “cute” child of yours.
Then the compliments come flooding in –
“Just the spitting image of you”.
Now, not only are you Fat- not pregnant – baby is out – but you have an Alien baby who apparently looks just like you do!
it’s not like you can just go –
oooooh, Stork -here is some butter – take him/her away and bring me who I dreamed about giving birth too.
Do or don’t.
My little lady turned out so delightful that, to be honest, if I hadn’t been at the birth – high on gas and air – and sick to my stomach- and felt that push and was stitched around my V.J. parts,all the way around like a hem of a skirt . I would tell you –
She isn’t mine.
I’m Night – she is Day.
Mending my ways – as the days go by.
Screwing up – with no need for any suicide squad of any kind to aid me.
What am I going to to do with my day ?
It is three fucking am in the morning and I am reading about training, my masters, worrying about mother /wife/daughter / friend /duties, bills, life…
SOCS got interrupted – this girl got interrupted by my little lady.
Storytime and Stream of consciousness . I did the bathtime and Bella had lots of mommy time with me today.
Nope – she still won’t go away…..
Oh, she has gone.
I ignored my sweet child. well, I didn’t give her my full attention…
I have a head full – no space.
I’ve got more responsibilities coming.
Usually, I am fucking chuffed to bits – it has dawned on me -what a huge role being a WRAP facilitator is –
Oh, don’t get me wrong, dearie… I have my pre-reading prep to do and I have been giving the opportunity to do this training.
I get to give hope to people in a manner that a lot of people who have suffered abuse and trauma may have never encountered.
I’m no fucking teacher. They say : you are the best expert on yourself’ and that it 100% accurate.
One year ago I did this program as a student and now
…. well, shit just got different.
That brings me to the first ever Masters course with the Open university on Creative writing.
Of course, I can do this. No big deal.
Just a thought Sweet dates are just nom nom but my current diet intake needs to include more than 3 types of food.
Sugar lows are a bitch.
Yeah, I want to come off the sugar.
Recovery is limitless.
Trust, empathy and giving my time and working with others are a few of my strengths- it took me a long time to realise it.
I lost my confidence these last few months. I lost some weight and it scared the crap out of me. I am not going back into any eating disorder clinic
Time in there stops.
Dates become meaningless but I was always the rabbit running around,with that ‘ off with her head’ queen mentality of mine –
with things to do –
Things that I expected me to do
– and if I was late ?
Well….. as much as my mind can drive me into states of
‘I don’t want to be me today’ .
I know I have a great mind.
When I put my mind to it.
I achieve and succeed in ways that still impress me.
So, I am trying to write myself out of a panic attack of sorts.
I’m not the kind of girl who goes I will settle for a pass – I want a fucking first. My mind darts here ,there and everywhere-
Talking about my degree again .
I still exercise -even though I don’t have a wedding dress to fit into anymore.
The time is now for my inner fat lady to get my weights worth in Lard food!
I do know what makes me unwell and what makes me well.
I can’t fecking blame ignorance-
Aye , it is bliss ( I am suddenly Irish).
Thing is , I know that I’m running out of time.
The battle has been taken into the arena and I am getting battered.
I’ve given a few uppercut ,hook and jabs –
fist down –
no flicking at the elbows .
Still, it is my mind -so, either way, it is going to need bandaging.
I am a mummy!
That is so bad -crucify me, now, please!
So the battle ain’t over until her majesty of hearts takes a chill pill – an eternal one – like a ring -send her ass right up Uranus . Ha ,yeah you can have her.
I know my rights. I can divorce this bitch!
My energy and drive and passion and
need to be transformed into a wielding sword of success.
We make our own Fates.
there’s me doing that rhyming thing again.
I needed to get this out of my head before I ………….
No,giving up was never an option, so don’t worry about it ( in an Italian accent)
One last thing ,why do I get my Reds on a full moon?
Yeah, that came out- exactly how I wanted it to.
Reason being: well, it would explain why the hell I have been all over the place of late but I know the true reason.
Oooh, I have just gone all sexist on my own mind!
Conditioned or what – pass me the Febreze.
I need to be kind with myself, look after myself, praise myself, see who I really am, remember my true worth.
Shit like that
It does help.
I am living proof.
I am living proof.
I am still on this planet.
That is me done!