Things have been a little bit bizarre, the last week or so. Which is a vague apology for not blogging, but not really an apology, because I’m not sure if there is anything to be sorry for. The beauty of blogging is that nobody pays me to do this, so if I write or not there’s no pressure, no deadline, no dress code – I do it because I love it, and when I don’t get to blog it’s generally because life is happening and leaving me a bit overwhelmed or bewildered.
Anyway, anyway. I digress, and in paragraph one! Oh this is going to be a ripper, isn’t it.
This has been a really big week. Week and a bit. Let’s say ten days. A big ten days.
And now I’m counting, and getting totally distracted.
I have lots of things to tell you, and long time followers will know that each of these things is significant. But what they actually are, is a list of how my world has become a bit of a whirlwind. And to be honest, completely and utterly honest, I’m going to tell you that these things are all awesome. But the reality is I am starting to panic a bit. Panicking is something I do when I feel like self sabotaging. It’s very counter productive and is generally accompanied by increased nicotine inhalation and a rise in the amount of time spent playing mindless games on my phone.
Anyway anyway anyway. Here is what’s going on.
1. I got a job. I got a job. I got a job. I’m yet to start, but I got a job. Can you believe that? I had a two hour interview – yes, TWO HOURS! I’m looking forward to starting.
2. During the job interview, I was trying really hard not to fidget around. So I stuck my hand into my shoe. It made sense at the time so shh. Anyway I was sitting there talking in a very grown up and professional manner when my fingers found themselves encircled by a random piece of RIBBON that was attached to the inner sole of the shoe I was wearing. So I did what anyone would do, when they were in the middle of a job interview with the hand shoved in their shoe: I pulled. Yanked out the ribbon. Slipped it into my pocket without them even noticing. Because that is how smooth I am. Total adult.
3. A few days after the interview, I found out that Skunk would be riding again. Skunk is my Scout name. Because I was a Cub Scout leader. For a long time, minus 12 months after being stood down for fighting to save my beautiful little group. I’ve been reinstated. And I started on Thursday. And it was hard. It was the actual definition of bittersweet. I was happy to be back, but heartbroken to be back at the wrong Hall and seeing everyone in the wrong scarves. But I guess that’s the thing, isn’t it. My passion for giving kids a chance to step up has to be bigger than my grief or my pride. And I suppose it is, because I go back tomorrow night.
4. Before I left for Scouts, my baby Scouty hurt her foot. Pretty badly. Not amputate or put down – probably only comparable to a sprain. But fuck. Seeing that furry little face in pain and not understanding why she was hurting and my beloved having to take her to the vet without me to hold her paw. Then I came home, and she just held onto my arm and breathed and slowly her breathing returned to normal and she looked at me with her big brown eyes and then limped out to bed. My heart, in a million pieces. She’s fine, by the way. Still a bit hobbling but absolutely improving.
5. So I got a job, got reinstated as Cub leader, my fur baby hurt herself and then I went to the Hawkesbury to visit my family. And this is awesome, this bit. My sister got a PUPPY. His name is Rory and he’s beautiful. Look, this is him!
6. I set a goal and I’m working towards it. By nature, I’m someone who loves to be at home. I recharge at home, I feel safe at home, I have some form of control over things at home – not in a I’m a control freak way, but in a knowing how things will be kind of way. Comfort from routine and lack of surprises, I guess. But I’ve been really making a huge effort the last week or so to go out every single day. I fucking hate it. But I’m doing it. And working on this is confronting. But I’m doing it.
7. I came home from the Hawkesbury today. Was met by my rambunctious furries and slightly overwhelmed dog sitters. We had dinner and then they left. Then I saw this clip, from a show called “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here”. I had been backing the glorious Chrissie Swan to win since day one. I love this chick. She’s beautiful and clever and witty and funny and caring and smart. And she’s a mum and spoke often of missing her kids while she was on the reality series, eating this like ostrich arseholes and having maggots poured over her. The finale was tonight and this, this moment here happened. Watch it, then I will tell you why it reduced me to tears as I watched it over and over and over again:
Did you see it? Chrissie, so tired and worn out. And just… waiting. And then she hears it. A hopeful little word. A word that’s a question and a hope and an assumption and a heart. “Mum?”. And everything changes. And I watched it and cried and then watched it again and again. And it wasn’t the obvious answer of oh god I miss my mum. It was this:
Is that what it’s going to be like when I finally get to see my mum again? When we meet again in the next part of life? Will she be waiting for me? I might get to hold her and hear her and see her, and smell her listen to her, and in one word tell her how much she has been missed and loved and remembered and thought of and hoped for. In one word, I’d catch her attention and she’d look up and see me. And everything changes.
And everything has changed.
But it isn’t all bad.
And that’s the biggest whirlwind of all, I think.