Have you ever felt so frustrated by something that you have breached etiquette and societal norms to voice your opinion? It happened the other night. Not by me. By another woman. Myself, a few hundred women and three men were lucky enough to get tickets to hear Elizabeth Gilbert speak last Thursday. We expected her to talk about Big Magic, about creativity, about the mysterious spark of ideas and I suppose we all wanted to go away a little inspired.
Last year I wrote a post about anxiety and how it affects me: When Anxiety Attacks. I wrote it because I know that I am not the first nor will I be the last person to suffer from anxiety. I am also a huge believer in problems shared are problems halved and talking away taboos is half the battle. So here I am, talking about it again.
this post is sponsored by SleepMaker
Some people keep a sleep diary. This is how mine would go:
Dear Log,
It’s has been approximately 2,555 nights since my last decent sleep. Occasionally, my captors give me some relief and allow me a night without interruption, but it only serves as false hope. If I ever get a chance to escape, I can’t sleep 4am. My body has been ruthlessly trained to crave more sleep and yet be unable to gain it. Sometimes the youngest captor, who is by far the master at sleep interruption, will allow me nights and nights of sleep. When that happens, the eldest captor (who taught the younger all he knows) will wake with a variety of complaints – nightmares, a need for water, growing pains. They have cleverly worked together to make sure that I will never sleep a full night again…
Maybe I am exaggerating (maybe I’m not) but a thing that was once taken for granted is now a VERY BIG DEAL. And is for every mother of young children I know. How do we get more sleep? And when sleep is in short supply, how do we improve its quality?
Last year at this time I was in the terrifying and exhilarating position of setting up my own business. Not talking about it. Not dreaming about it. Not conceptualising it or taking courses on how to do it. Actually doing it.
It was a steep learning curve. I’ll warn you now – this is not going to be a post about how I made seven figures, worked 20 minutes a day and lost 15 kilos in the process. There are plenty of those stories on the internet if you want them – but this isn’t one. Truth is there were weeks I barely covered the cost of the daycare that allowed me to work. Cue the mother guilt right there. There were plenty of days when I realised that working for myself was never going to deliver the work/life balance I craved. Sure, it delivers flexibility and independence but working for yourself is a hungry beast that could eat 24/7 if you let it.
Last year around this time I bought a diary. The cover promised 2015 would be my year. I feel hard for that idea. Determined that 2015 would see success, motivation and inspiration. That I would be filled with ambition and the year would deliver amazing things. Such a lot of pressure on the infant shoulders of a brand new year. I wasn’t the only one. Many of my Facebook friends declared similar expectations. That 2015 would be the year of abundant success. Read more
At a time of year meant to be filled with joy, kindness and goodwill, I often encounter the opposite. Car-parks, time and nerves are all in short supply and the kids have only just started holidays. Why is it so hard to be kind at Christmas?
The other day I was in our local shopping centre and it should have come with M15+ strong language warning. Arguments over who saw a car-park first, people ignoring give-way signs and other people swearing at them for doing so, patience running thin at checkouts and people squeezing into too-full lifts. Apparently, no-one with kind word, only exasperation about being one of many who decided to shop that day. Read more