Everyone has a different reality.

Been a bit quiet here on the blog for a while.  Had a lot going on in my head over the past six weeks or so.  Some good, some bad, and some bad that I’m trying to rationalise that will make it okay – because that’s what most of us do to get through the night.  But in saying that, in the context of things, when a family on Sunday lost a child, in a heartbeat, at a beach in Sydney’s South, the things that do my head in seem totally stupid.  My mother has said to me in the past, when I express something that’s doing my head in and then re-tract by saying that I feel stupid even vocalising any angst because I know that there are people out there experiencing things so much worse.  She tells me that it okay to feel these things because it’s my reality and it doesn’t make it any less than someone else’s because it’s not as bad.

I haven’t had the headspace to write for a while – I’ve been doing some writing for other people  which has left me emotionally drained.

This morning I took my Koda to  play with other puppies at Coogee Park (the cleaners were doing their fortnightly thing and its becoming an impossible task with him on the premises) and I met a man going for his morning swim at Wylie’s Baths.  He told me that he had a Retriever like mine that was 14 years old and that the dog’s hip joints were done and that they were lifting him up and down, that the dog could still walk around the yard but not much more, and that he knew that it was imminent that his decision to be kind was looming.  He had set a benchmark so to speak, for when that would be.  I died a million deaths for him.  As I write this, my hysteria that in 14 years, his reality will be mine, is acute and tangible. And I die a million deaths for me.

But I know that in reality, my reality, one cannot live like this.

A few weeks ago I took Miss11 to see Justin Bieber.  I had booked the tickets over six months ago.  And yes, I hear most of you groaning.  Her sister, Miss14 had booked to go with her friends, and truth be told, my motives were not entirely pure.  Firstly, I didn’t want to deal with the trauma of Miss11 freaking out at the 11th hour at missing out on the “Biebs” and to be totally honest, I didn’t want Miss14 galavanting with eight friends solo to Allphones Arena. As it turned out the 14 year olds needed a chaperone on the train home and there were some very grateful parents, Eastern Suburbs based that didn’t have to make the journey to the outer West at the midnight hour.

To get to the point, I realised – despite the fact that the Bieber crew were on the tail end of a world tour, and were so very, very tired – the concert, the vibe, the live music, the production and that electric atmosphere generated by a pumped up crowd fueled by massive base beats and mega watt speakers and strobe lights that could probably penetrate a galaxy far far away  – is what pumps me up.  In the PR Agency that made me what I am today, there was a quote hanging on the wall from Walter Chrysler that read “Enthusiasm is the secret to success”. It’s sometimes hard to hold onto that.  We get busy. We forget what inspires us.  I have realised that regardless of what is draining my headspace, I have to get out there and do the things that I love.  Because otherwise we are walking around dead inside.  Existing.  Going through the motions.  Feeling at 50% or less.  And that’s plain not good.

I’ve told the kids that this year, regardless of how tired and busy I think I am, we’re finding things, people, experiences that will make us think, “fuck yes!  You totally rock.”

I found this on Pinterest the other day, I cannot say it any better.

My wish for you.

My wish for you. And you, and you.

Love and light

Lauren xxx

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