Shame Memory 

I was driving to work the other day, listening to Brene talk about shame, and it lead me to reflect on the first moment I remember when I didn’t feel good enough. Luckily my drive to work is serene and I could recall, detached from emotion hehe. 

I really struggle with my perception of myself as attractive. I don’t see it consistently; sometimes I think it is there but, meh. It has impacted my confidence and my courage. And it started when I was about 7 or 8. Before that, who cares right. 

My mum was talking to a lady in a salon. My sisters and I were there. I am the oldest and although I was born blonde, by this stage my hair had darkened. My sisters were both blonde. They were ultra skinny; I was more average. 

The lady in the salon turned to the three of us and said, I shit you not, something along the lines of, “Aren’t your two blonde girls so pretty.”

Yep. I still carry anger and resentment. I can see her face and the words flying through my head make me smile maniacally. Yep. 

What can one say to that?


That’s why I’m so intelligent, nerdy and funny – knew I’d never get by on my looks [tongue in cheek].

Anyway, today there was a spider in the staff room, walking across the desk without a care. This was my reaction:


Organisation = Successful Teaching 

Last year I organised my units and class work for this term. It was the best thing I have ever done. Funnily enough, I have done it before but it has never felt like this. Hmmm … My self development work making itself known perhaps. 

I am so organised for my classes that it is a dream to be in my classroom. As a result of that, for the first time in a very long time, I am consistently feeling calm and at peace. And I am practicing my craft like a master. I feel that my kids are learning and are enjoying their learning. I am definitely enjoying my teaching. 

I’m excited about my kids’ achievements this year. It will be a good one. 

The Drive to Work 

I have been listening to podcasts on the way to work and the voices in my head on the way home recently. I have been enjoying the solitude to process my day and breathe in the calm of the open fields. 

This morning I was struck, at some point, by how grateful I am for the journey that has been my life to this point. There is always some type of madness in my life but I am blessed to be living it. 

And more than that, I am grateful for the continual stream of opportunities that I have created by following my heart’s yearnings. Initially they all seemed like phases but together, they have created business potential and considerable choice for me. 

I am generally positive about life and I generally understand that there is a reason for everything. But I also firmly believe that during the dark days, we need to share our grief. It can help others as well as permit you to feel less disconnected/isolated. 

The key to movement in a positive way is gratitude. And I am grateful that I practice it. 

Flea Infestation as a Metaphor for Life 

The dog appears to have stopped scratching; I wish I could say the same for me. Another vacuum to suck up some carcasses, a flea bomb strategically placed, a bathed dog in flea wash and we should be right. 🙏🏻

As I sit here scratching though, I contemplate the significance of this flea infestation (not bad by any stretch of the imagination but very annoying nonetheless). 

And I realise that life is full of random infestations of worry and trouble. Times when we feel stretched to our limits of patience. Troubles come to annoy us, eat at our skin, leave us marked, and we often don’t see them coming. 

They start out small, almost hard to catch, and so we wait for them to go away and die. If they don’t immediately regress, we patch them up and keep moving along. Until one day, shortly after, we notice that they have started  creeping into every crevice of peace and calm, and are slowly taking over control. 

It is now that we realise it is time. Time to prepare methodically for their annihilation; reclaiming control. 

So we gather our tools, access appropriate resources, assess the extent of the problem, and act. Swiftly and mercilessly. 

One step at a time. One process after another. Until every trouble is vanquished, and all that is left is to suck up the memories and keep moving forward. 

Yep, and now I think I might be allergic so I’m off to rub cream into my teaming skin. 

The Day Awaits

I love this time of the day. When you wake up and there is promise lying ahead of you. I feel it more keenly on weekends when my body wakes naturally and there is no compulsion, beyond going to the loo, to immediately get up. Max and Molly, my fur kids, love it too. Snuggles is how Saturday’s and Sunday’s start. 

Peace. Tranquility. Soul time. 

And that feeling of promise. Hope. Inspiration. 

I am the composer for this day. It will be whatever I choose for it to be. The master of my own world. And destiny. 

If only for today. 

There are still things that should be done but they don’t always win out. There are things that could be done, and this is where the magic lies. A state of friction between should and could

Sometimes should wins. Sometimes could does. Often, though, nothing does. 

And I am okay with that. 

It is my day, my gift, my blank piece of paper. 

I will write on it as I see fit. 

Shaking Life Up

Before I moved last May, I think I had fallen into a rut. I think that can happen sometimes in life. 

When I first looked at the house I currently live in, I thought it was small. That forced me to really focus on what I would be packing to bring with me. It then resulted in an almost complete overhaul of furniture – moving away from dark wood (which I have always loved) to more streamlined white furniture. 

I love living here. I am much happier. And I am starting to live the life I’ve always yearned for. 

I didn’t really want to move. 

But, man, I’m glad I did. 

This move was the stone being thrown into the pond. 

Grieving is an unpredictable process 

It’s been a big week. And a difficult week in so many ways. I am emotionally exhausted. And through all of the events of this week I have had a quieter but ever present reel of dialogue and emotion playing in the background. 

I know that grieving is a process. And I know that it is normal for triggers to release more healing opportunities as your footing becomes more solid, each time your footing becomes more solid. And I know that one day the triggers for a broken heart will become less because I will have made complete peace with the loss. 

But this week I have been very sensitive to babies, talk of babies, talk of miscarriage, talk of pregnancy. This week I have wanted to curl up in a corner and just cry my heart out. 

And I haven’t. 

Until my drive home just now. 

I left my location quite suddenly. I could feel a shift in energy and knew I wasn’t going to be productive in that environment. It was time to leave. Tiredness suggests I shouldn’t have even gone out tonight. But, meh, it was dinner with extended family. 

Shortly into the night conversation turned to pregnancy and miscarriage. And this week, I’m not as at peace as I have been. These types of conversation have created underlying anxiety for me this week. My miscarriage has been tormenting me. 

More than that though, it has also given rise to a recurring series of decisions I make in phases. Quite probably the real issue that I need to resolve/learn from/be at peace with. 

I am not very good at all about talking about my issues. I don’t make much time for them. I made one attempt to talk this week, and that was successful but probably too short. So, I’m getting better. 

But the worrying aspect of me not talking is that I think it connects to my fear of being vulnerable, and then shunned, which would elevate my lack of feeling of self worth and value. There is a recess in my mind that tells me continually (and I foolishly listen) that I am here to serve others. That is my purpose and where my worth and value as a human being resides. 


Intellectually I know this is bollocks. Emotionally … Hmmm. And so, in a week where I probably needed to hide in the forest, I have continually given of myself, even when I didn’t want to or wasn’t up to it. And not one of those situations has been successful. I have depleted what energy I had and I have been involved in several instances where I have laid things out as I have seen them in a cold manner. 

And that doesn’t help anyone. 

When I have said I need a break or I really can’t do that, I have allowed myself to be coerced into acting against my better judgement. Because I am here to serve others. And the underlying dialogue to that is, I am not worth as much as you and my needs aren’t as important as yours.

And no good has come of it. 

Oprah, I’m hearing the whisper now 😉. 

The Importance of Context 

We all have moments when we judge without thinking. Well, you might not but definitely do. Generally on small stupid things for me. The big things I think about a bit more. 

Especially about the context. 

Like, yesterday there was a series of fights on the road behind my school in the evening. The media instantly used our school as the selling point, strongly implying that in some way our school, and all of its students and staff were responsible. Shaking my head, still in disbelief. 

I cannot stop judging the media, harassing kids as they walked through the gates this morning. No responsibility accepted for printing non factual information, never let the facts get in the way of a good story. Pfft. 

However, their context is that they need to satisfy the media bureaucracy and the truth rarely makes as good a story. 

Moving on Tina (my anger and frustration is still palpable). 

The events of the last twenty four hours have really impressed upon me the importance of understanding context. It is easy to judge from the surface. But it is infinitely more important to understand, and when understanding happens, judgement can’t. I think this could be the way to peace. 

It has been for me. 

Throughout my childhood I witnessed a lot of behaviour from damaged people. It impacted deeply. To heal I needed to discover the context behind the damage, and once I did, I was able to forgive (it was a process). 

I am fiercely protective of Campbelltown, my school, that community and my kids. I dislike when people not from the area judge it mercilessly. Ignorance in this case is not bliss, it’s just ignorance. And the worst kind. It implies that there are layers of society, and ultimately, the only difference comes down to how well we hide the damage and broken souls that inhabit society. 

I like that it isn’t hidden in Campbelltown. As Dr Phil says, you can’t fix what you don’t acknowledge. We own our damage and we work tirelessly to heal the community from it. And as a result, we are better for it. 

We were attacked unjustifiably by the media which has caused a negative perception in the community. All I ask is that we all, always, try to understand the context. 
PS. I apologise for the scattered nature of this post. Probably need to process the day more. 

Teen Violence 

I was sent a link to a video. An hour ago in the community I teach in, not involving my school’s current students (thankfully), a group of girls took to the local streets to fight. The video shows that they were prepared for violence by bringing a variety of weapons. 

The actual fighting in the three minute clip I viewed was minimal. The language, grandstanding and shouts for blood from the many bystanders, was not. The bystanders were yahooing and laughing. 

I find their behaviour more reprehensible than the behaviour of the fighters. Mostly because I think that without an audience, there would have been no fight. Without the video that has been posted and shared almost 2000 times in an hour, the behaviour would not be as revered. 
It is disgusting. 

What are we letting happen to our communities, our world and to our children? On what planet have these kids been raised that they think this is appropriate behaviour? And, where on earth were the adults? And why weren’t the police called? 

Bloody hell.