So long and thanks for all the confessions...

It's hard to believe that I started this blog all the way back in 2012. For those of you who may remember, those were my good old Ness of Boganville days, before I became all classy and elegant. Shut up. 

I started blogging not knowing what I was doing. Clearly nothing has changed in that regard. I was quite clueless about the whole big blogosphere out there. Then somehow I stumbled upon another blog called My Home Truths by Kirsty Russell. 

Kirsty hosted a link up every Monday called I Must Confess. I began joining in with the confessions most weeks. I must admit, being the kind of ad hoc, lazy, disorganised type of person and blogger that I am, the link up motivated me to keep going and also gave me a prompt to write about it.  So it's thanks to Kirsty that I'm here so many years later still boring entertaining you with my shit wit. Sadly, Kirsty has decided to retire the link up after an amazing five-year run, so today is the very last I Must Confess. Sigh. Sad face. 

Seeing as though it's the last confession, Kirsty has asked us to go out with a bang and reveal our biggest confession EVER.

Look, there are some things that I will never divulge even if you tied me up and tortured me. Well, maybe if the torture was being denied cake, I'd probably give in. But that's just me. 

What I'm getting at is, I don't have any huge, monumental, shocking thing to tell. 

But the link up ending makes me think about my resistance to change.

I must confess I often feel sheepish and redundant. As if everyone else is moving on with their lives: making decisions and doing all the things and all I seem to do is struggle with illness. 

I set up my life in such a way; being a stay at home mother, because I was certain that it was the right thing for me in order to protect my mental and physical health. Being an introvert and also on the spectrum the whole multi-tasking, working, soccer mum thing is overwhelming to me. Then I ended up struggling with anxiety anyway and ultimately getting breast cancer. Yeah, my plan worked out well.  

You can probably hear violin music swelling right about now. I promise I'll only indulge in my pity party for another paragraph (or two) and then mention cake again. Cake fixes everything. 

And here's another thing: sometimes it seems like getting my ASD diagnonsense wasn't exactly what it was cracked up to be. To be blunt it kind of felt like: Yes, you have ASD. FUCK YOU. Apart from understanding myself better, there wasn't much to be gained from it. Five years down the track, I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It's a huge, revealing thing to discover about yourself, but a gigantic yawn to everyone else. Furthermore, it probably just comes across as something to use to make excuses for things. Only others who are also on the spectrum can understand. And even then, all of us are different. 

Anyway, not sure where I'm going with this. I guess I just wanted to have my little whinge. Most likely because I've been through a prolonged period of stress. A breast cancer diagnonsense will do that to you. Funny that. When this happens, you have no choice but to get on with things and do what you have to do to get through treatment. Some months later it hits you and you have all the feels. So I just allow myself to have my sooky la la moments and then snap myself out of it and move on. After all, I saw my doctor last Friday and she was very happy with my outcome. She wants to see me again in twelve months time. Yay! Anyway, enough about that.

Now let's move onto the cake! 

It's been fun making these confessions every Monday. I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them. 

Over the years I've revealed so many underwhelming fascinating things: 

From the things I don't get about sport to what's in my handbag, 
to my worst habit. And I'm sure you slept better after reading all of those posts. You're welcome.

Therefore, you'll be pleased to know I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be blogging away about nothing. It's a gift, so I can't waste it. Duh. 

And the other good news is that the I Must Confess community isn't totally kaput. Kirsty also has an amazing Facebook group
where we can all vent our spleen (terrific expression, that), have a little whinge or rant and share our triumphs and joy. The great thing about it is, you don't even have to be a blogger to join in! So pop over and join us here!

Plus, the other great news is there will be a brand new, shiny Monday link-up starting over at  Denyse Whelan Blogs. 
You'll be able to find me joining in the fun over there! 

Finally, thanks a million to Kirsty and I wish her all the great things in moving her blog forward. And now let's have some celebratory cake!  Of course they are virtual cakies, so we have to imagine them or go and buy or bake our own. I think wine is needed as well, even though it's Monday morning. Details! 

And for some reason I feel the need for the final ever I Must Confess to fade out while serenading Kirsty with an 80s power ballad. Because I'm pretty sure that as a dedicated Eurovision fan, she's quite partial to a good old 80s power ballad. Take it away, Taylor Dayne! 

Saying goodbye
Is never an easy thing
But you  never said
You'd stay forever
So if you must go
Well darlin' I'll set you free
But I know in time
We'll be together

I won't try
To stop you now from leaving
'Cause in my heart I know

Love will lead you back
Someday I just know that
Love will lead you back to my arms
Where you belong

I'm sure, sure as stars are shining
One day you will find me again
And it won't be long
One of these days 
Our love will lead you back

One of these nights
I'll hear your voice again
You're gonna say 
How much you miss me
You'll walk out that door
But someday you'll walk back in
Darlin' I know, I know this will be

Sometimes it takes
Some time out on your own now
To find your way back home

Love will lead you back
Someday I just know that
Love will lead you back to my arms
Where you belong

I'm sure, sure as stars are shining
One day you will find me again
And it won't be long
One of these days
Our love will lead you back

Written by Diane Eve Warren • Copyright © RealSongs

What is your biggest confession EVER?

Do you cope with change?

Which 80s power ballad would you serenade Kirsty with? 



Linking up for the last ever I Must Confess. 

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When I'm Sad I...

It happens to everyone. The blues. The 'blahs'. I'm not talking about clinical depression. Just the ordinary ups and downs that everyone has from time to time.

I must confess it's been a bit of a hard old slog for the last year. Cancer and chemotherapy and radiation will do that to a person, strangely enough. I know! I'm supposed to be positive all the time! What am I like? 

When I'm busy being a sooky la la I do the following things:

General moping, pouting and sighing and 'blahing'. Yes, blahing is totally a verb. I do it all the time. Well, not all the time. Just every 28 days or so for a number of years, for some strange reason. 

There is a tendency for me to lose interest in stuff  that I like, such as blogging. It would be preferable if I lost interest in eating. This always seems to happen to characters in books and movies. They go through heartbreak or misfortune and are totally uninterested in food. Never happens to me. Which leads me to my next point...

I eat all my feelings. They taste suspiciously like cake. When they don't taste like cake, they taste like chocolate. Weird. 


As I have mentioned before, I'm not the world's greatest talker. Not even when I'm in a quite jovial mood. I know what you're thinking. But yes, it does happen. Its just that you might not notice due to my resting bitch face. 

So you can imagine my aversion to being verbal when I'm all morose and moody. Therefore if I don't answer the phone, or frantically indicate to Mickey Blue Eyes that I'm not here if he happens to answer the phone, don't take it personally. 

Image credit:https://www.facebook.com/survivingsanity/

All of social media and the entire world seems to be mocking me. The sensible thing to do would be to back away from the internet, but apparently I'm a masochist. 

However, I always manage to get myself out of my little rut. 

Here are some strategies I use:

• Watching stand up comedy on Youtube. 

• Watching my favourite feel good TV shows. I'm partial to a bit of Miranda at the moment. I know she's not everyone's cup of tea, but I quite like the goofiness. SUCH FUN! 

• Listening to music. A lot of people think that most Carpenters music is a bit sappy and miserable: "I'll say goodbye to love, no one ever cared if I should live or die..." and all that. Well, I guess they're right. But I'm weird, so it's still my happy place. Whatever works, I say. 

• Exercise, exercise, exercise! I haven't been as diligent with this one lately. A kick up the arse is desperately needed. Oftentimes it's hard to get motivated when I'm in the doldrums. Plus, I don't feel like leaving the house, because then I might have to actually talk or smile at people *shudders*. My strategy for this is to make myself exercise to a quick Youtube video for ten or fifteen minutes. 

• Write/scribble in journals (but offline because no one needs to read my moaning). In fact I'm kind of addicted to notebooks and journals. This is my most recent one: 

• Patting my dog. I don't know why, but whenever I'm feeling sulky sensitive or need to unwind, some time with our resident pooch Cookie, always puts me in a better mood. This also works for my boys (except Mr 15, who isn't as much of a dog person). Apparently studies show that having a pet is good for your mental health. I'm far too lazy to go and do the actual research, but I'm pretty sure I've heard this. Look, just google it yourself, OKAY? HMPH.

• Cuddle my boys. Well, it's mainly the 7 year old who'll cuddle and occasionally Mr 12.  I better enjoy those cuddles because I don't know how much longer they'll last. Sigh. 

• Talk to someone. Yes, this is totally contradictory. I don't like talking. But sometimes even I have to force myself. It can be hard to find the right shrink (I always say shrink because I forget how to spell the proper word) or counselor that you feel comfortable with, but when you do it's helpful. As long as I don't have to do so (talk) all the time. 

• Wait it out. Remind yourself that it's just one of those days and it will pass. A 'blah' day.

Blah, blah, blah, blah. And even more blah.

Because BLAH.

Double blah.

Triple blah. 

Quadruple blah.

A billion blahs.

ALL. THE. BLAHS.

Karen Carpenter summed it up:

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothing is really wrong
Feeling like I don't belong

Blah, blah, blah something about rainy days (which DON'T get me down, oddly enough)

What I feel has come and gone before 
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about...

Yep, It does come and go. Just like all moods.

Me being awesome! 

• And when it does pass I put on some smart clothes and a bit of lippy and decide to be awesome. Because I am. So ner! 

Image credit: http://www.snorgtees.com/when-i-m-sad-i-stop-being-sad-and-be-awesome-instead

Right, that's it from me. I'm off to be awesome and listen Carpenters music. Nope. I don't have the blahs. That's just what I do in any mood. You know, just for something different! Later!

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

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Ten Things I Believe

Today I bring to you ten things I believe. A serious version and a silly one. Because I can never be all serious and deep and meaningful on this blog. Well, not very often, anyway. 


Ten Things I Believe: Serious Version 


1. Be kind. 

You know that internet meme about how everybody has an internal struggle you know nothing about? THAT. Basically just be kind. Don't be a dick also works here. 

2. Introverts are awesome! 

Well, duh. I'm super duper introverted and just look how awesome I am! 

3. When you're dead, you're dead.

I don't believe in God or heaven. I think it's the same as before you were born. You just don't exist anymore. You'd think this belief might give me some sense of urgency to do something with my life beyond EAT ALL THE CAKE. Apparently not. Oops.

Having said all of the above, I still reserve the right to believe in Emergency God. You know, when you're suddenly in a crisis and you start praying "Please god, let everything be okay..." There were certainly many times I prayed to a God I don't even believe in during my breast cancer experience. I just can't say 'journey'. 

4. Family is everything. I am so very lucky to have such a beautiful family and extended family. They mean the world to me. I LOVE them so much. And I'd also love them to leave me alone now and again. See point number 2. Ahem. 

5. You don't have to like or be liked by everyone.

It took me a while to figure this one out. Some people won't ever like you no matter what. You could give them a yacht and a million dollars and they still won't like you.  Although, if you want to test that theory I'm open to offers. I'd prefer a mansion and two million dollars, thanks. I promise I'll like you! Probably. 

6. You wouldn't worry about what others thought of you if you knew how seldom they did.

This one is courtesy of Dr Phil and fits in with the previous point. At least I got something out of hours of my life watching his show that I'll never get back. 

7. Happiness isn't the natural state for human beings a hundred percent of the time.

I read a book called The Happiness Trap by Russ Harris and it completely changed my way of thinking about happiness. Truthfully, happiness is just one of the gamut of emotions that everyone experiences during their lifetime. Nobody feels blissfully happy and contented every single second of every day, no matter what the highlight reels on their social media look like. 

8. What some one thinks of you is none of your business. Related: if  you happen to think my blog sucks I'd prefer not to know. Just click away...

Oh wait. Judging by the paltry amount of folk reading here, this is already happening. Sigh. 

9. I'm in no competition with no one.

This is yet another internet meme. But whatever works, right? This resonates with me. 

10. Letting go of the notion of having high self-esteem or self-confidence. 

This is another light-bulb moment courtesy of The Happiness Trap. The idea is that you stop judging yourself as a person. This is still something that I fall back into from time to time and have to keep reminding myself.  

Upon reflection it appears that I have gleaned a lot of wisdom from internet memes. Who said Facebook can't be educational and enlightening? 


Ten Things I Believe: Silly Version


1. Mornings suck.

I remember thinking that there should have actually been laws invented against getting up in the mornings before you were ready. That's how much my body protested against it. Mind you, I was having this thought in my late teens and early 20's. So you can imagine how eager I am to jump out of bed in my mid 40's. 

2. Cake should be the sixth food group.

Sure, it's fattening and terribly bad for you. Details!

3. Ditto chocolate.

4.  I believe in laughing at yourself and trying to see the funny side of stuff even when life is a tiny bit shit. 

5. There should be Carpenters music piped at a loud volume through every shopping centre and public place. Then every one else would vacate the premises in horror and this introvert would have it all to herself! Genius!

6. Weight should be like height. You get to your most healthy weight for your height and it stays there permanently no matter what you eat. Why didn't I design the human body? 

7. I believe in sleeping-in. 

This is pretty self-explanatory. See point number 1.

8. I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky...

Okay, not really. But I DO believe that's one of the most annoying songs EVER. Says the woman who can listen to Carpenters songs about birds suddenly appearing and every sha la la la ad nauseam. Ahem.

9. I believe there should be a dinner fairy. 

And a washing up fairy. And a housework fairy... And just fairies in general. And unicorns. Basically what I'm saying is I believe in wine. Shut up. 

  


10. I believe I am all believed out. I believe I need a lie down.

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

What do YOU believe? 

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What I Wear To Bed

Today it's time to answer the burning question on everyone's lips. 
I'm sure you've spent hours pondering this very thing. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep at night until you know this vital information:

What does Nesski wear to bed?  

Well, I won't keep you waiting any longer, dear people. It's time to reveal this important detail. Hold onto your tits because it's going to be RIVETING. GOB SMACKING, I tell you! Just simply ASTOUNDING. 

Admit it, it is slightly astounding that anyone would could write such balderdash and pass it off as blog fodder. But you're reading it, so what are you like? 

And truthfully I just wanted to use the word 'balderdash'. So I just found a way to slip it in there. It's a totally underrated, underused word in my honest opinion. Right up there with 'codswallop' and 'poppycock'. I'm quite fond of 'rigmarole', too.

Speaking of rigmarole, here's the revelation you couldn't care less about were waiting for:

I have a breathtaking array of sexy nightwear! Using 'sexy nightwear' in the sense of nanna nightgowns and comfortable pyjamas. Shut up. 

Side note: Incidentally is it pajamas or pyjamas? I'm totally confused about that. Every time I type pyjamas the red squiggly line appears. However, when you spell-check it, it highlighted it in yellow saying it's wrong and suggested pyjamas. So now I'm confused. But then, I'm always confused, so my point is???? Confusing. 

In summer, I wear the night gowns. In winter. it's fleecy pyjamas all the way! SO HAWT! Yeah, NOT.

Well actually, they do keep me quite warm. That's kind of the whole point.

Besides, Mr 7 assures me that I look nice in my pyjamas. Maybe I should start wearing them as day wear? Or maybe Mr 7 is a compulsive liar. Not sure. 

In winter I like to be covered as much as possible with lots of blankets all neatly pulled up to my chin. I even like the idea of weighted blanket, but they're hellishly expensive. 

I also like the idea of wearing a onsie. Except it seems like it might be a bit of a nuisance when you have to pee. Peeing seems to take up an inordinate amount of my time. Too much information? Oops, sorry. That was awkward. Moving on. 

To add to my classy and elegant look, I also wear a beautiful floral polar fleece dressing gown and ugg boots. Coupled with my now completely grey, curly steel wool hair, this certainly brings a whole new level to the word STUNNING. 

I can only offer my sincere apologies for making you so jealous. Related: in fact, I did end up dyeing my hair on Saturday. Again, Mr 7 told me I looked nice. Mickey Blue Eyes told me I looked 'butch'. HMPH. I'll show him whose butch! I'll punch him in the.... Oh wait... Ahem...

Anyway, getting back to my daggy pyjamas. Because let's face it, who doesn't want to get back into my pyjamas. I mean, uh... Now it's awkward again. 

Let us pause and then resume the awkward. 

Pregnant pause.

Not really sure how a pause can be pregnant, but I'm just building suspense for the next round of information you never needed to know about me. Okay, that'll do.

In the past I found the above combo to be an effective 
contraception. These days I don't have to worry about such piffle (another great word), because a) I had a tubal ligation years ago, and b) I'm now in menopause with thanks to chemotherapy. Fun. 

During in-between seasons, I am quite partial to those night shirt type of things with long sleeves. I still like something to cover my arms during the night, but not full on pyjamas because they would get too hot. This is quite thrilling and entertaining information. 

In other random and pointless news, whenever I am all rugged up in my pyjamas and in bed, I seem to have developed a really helpful habit of waking around 4am. I then proceed to lie there and over think about everything and nothing that has happened in my entire life, why I'm here and what is it all about and would it be easier to be a dog or an ant or something. Thinking, thinking, thinking, ruminating, pondering, wondering, musing, mulling all the muddled up, mingling, murky thoughts in my mad mind. Then it's time to get up. At which point I feel like I've been given a dose of anaesthetic or the shit that killed Michael Jackson. Helpful. 

Another thing that occurs to me: existing is exhausting. 

I would try saying that really fast several times, preferably after a wine or two, but I CAN'T BE BOTHERED. See above. Which brings to me to my favourite hobby. See below. 

Well that is quite enough awkward details from me for one day.

No wait. One more thing: I am off to have my tits squashed. Afterwards I will need a good lie down. I will be wearing pyjamas. 

The end.


Linking up for I Must Confess

What do you wear to bed?

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Best Birthday Ever

It's time to tell you about my best birthday EVER.

The thing is, they're all pretty good because they all involve CAKE.

You knew I was going to say that, didn't you?

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/161637074101411447/

My birthdays as a child were usually fairly low key affairs, as far as I can remember. First of all, my birthday is January 15th, so it was always right in the middle of school holidays. This meant a lot kids would have been away on holidays. Fortunately, I wasn't fussed about parties, anyway. I always disliked being the centre of attention. I just wanted to be the person in the corner silently stuffing my face with cakies and chocolate crackles.

I remember my 21st, my 30th and my 40th.

Me and my Mum at my 21st. 

For my 21st I had one of those classy backyard parties.  However, I froze in front of all my family and friends. Okay, friend. I think I had at least one. All eyes were upon me. Nobody had told me about this part of the proceedings. Apparently I was supposed to make a speech. I felt really embarrassed and stupid for the rest of the evening. But then there was cake, so it was all good. Cake fixes everything. Sort of. Until it doesn't... Details. 

Fast forward nine years. At my 30th birthday, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I was up the duff. In the pudding club. Bun in the oven. Knocked up. 

30 and fabulous! And knocked up. 

There I am. Up the duff and unaware. Tragically I appear to be in much better shape even in my expectant state, than I am now. Weird.  Now I'm pregnant with a cake baby. Shut up.

At my 40th birthday the star of the proceedings was indeed the CAKE. LOOK at it. This decadent and delicious creation was made by my Mum who is a freaking culinary GENIUS. 


My mum always says that the only birthday you should worry about is the one you don't have. Well, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be worrying about it because you'd be slightly dead.

I must confess this year my birthday was just a teensy bit shitty. I began chemotherapy just two days before. Somehow I niavely thought I would just go about my life as usual. I made plans to head out for lunch with my family. Yeah, right. I ended up in bed feeling rather horrid. So next January I have to make up for that. I mean, I still had cake. I wasn't DEAD. That's the only thing that will stop me. Ahem. 

I tell you what though, I will be so freaking happy to make it to 50 and beyond that I will definitely want to have a celebration.

That's why I'd like to believe that my best birthday EVER is still ahead of me. ALL of them. Bring them on. 

In the meantime, it's somebody's birthday somewhere, so bring on the cake! 


Linking up for #imustconfess

What wasyour best birthday EVER?

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My Biggest Fashion Flop

I must confess that I've worn some truly hideous outfits over the years. I've blogged about them before. The thing is, I can't decide which one is the worst, so I'll let you draw your own conclusions. Go on, take a look! You will instantly feel ever so stylish if you do. You're welcome.

So, what do you think? Pretty bad, right?

It's a community service I offer, really. I wear daggy clothes to make everyone else feel like a fashionista. See? I'm just thinking of you!

But even after revealing all of the outfits in that post, I think I can recall yet another that was quite the shocker in retrospect.

Picture it: Sydney, 1989.

A young 18 year old Ness is clopping around to the Entertainment Centre, in all her innocence, to see a Simply Red concert (cutting edge taste in music, as usual), wearing a denim skirt with a red blouse and denim jacket with hideous, huge shoulder pads, and...erm...tassels. To complete this lovely look, I wore high-heeled, ankle length, lace-up boots and my smokin' hawt mullet-perm. Noice.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case may be, I do not appear to have photographic evidence of the above. Your eyeballs are spared that atrocity. But I'm sure you all have a mental vision and it's not pretty.

It's interesting, because I'm on the spectrum but I was always something of girly girl. Apparently we're not supposed to be. I did like wearing frocks and jewellery and make-up. On the other hand I detest high heels (I did wear them occasionally when I was young - see above), pantyhose or stockings and bras. I like to be contradictory.

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/178244097730294241/

As I've gotten older I've become more and more lazy low maintenance. I very rarely wear skirts or dresses these days. I'm a pants girl. NOT skinny jeans. Skinny jeans are stupid. Especially when you're not. Skinny, that is.

As for the whole 'leggings as pants' debate. I'll wear them with a long top or tunic type arrangement that covers my arse. Otherwise, no. Well, only around the house.

I usually have similar taste in fashion to my Mum. Which means that I'm either dressing like some one 30 years older than me, or my Mum is a really groovy granny who dresses 30 years younger. Definitely the latter, right? Shut up.

I also find that a lot of women's fashion is very impractical. Even pants don't have pockets, let alone dresses. Then there are all sorts of floaty tops that seem to be virtually see through. Which is fine if you're comfortable with that, but I'd rather keep my love handles and back fat safely camouflaged, thanks very much.

No wonder I have back fat. Ahem.

Image credit: https://www.facebook.com/SOML/

Anyway, the basic conclusion I've come to is that my entire life is a bit of a fashion flop, with very rare exception. I did look exquisite in my wedding gown. Prim, but exquisite.

And I'm sure table cloth tops and pinnies will be back in fashion very soon, proving that I was cutting edge all along.

Snorts.

Linking up  (late!) for I Must Confess

What's your biggest fashion flop?

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What I'm Most Proud Of

Last week I detailed my worst habits. This week, it's time to tell you what I'm most proud of. It's interesting to note how easy it is to list all my shortcomings, but when it's time to be proud I struggle.  

I'm not sure why, but whenever I try to find things about myself to be proud of or brag about, I feel like a tremendous wanker. This is why I end up being self-deprecating all the time. Sigh.

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/160792649167745514/

There's nothing tangible that I've achieved that I can say that I'm proud of, like a shiny car, or a McMansion or an illustrious career.

Overall this blog is pretty pointless. But considering that many people start blogs and abandon them, the fact that I've kept a completely pointless, nicheless, personal blog about nothing, ticking over for several years is a small thing to be proud of. It's certainly nothing monumental, but at least I've made people smile or chuckle from time to time. Yes, I'm not exactly curing cancer, but with the over saturation of awful in our faces all the time, there's nothing wrong with it either. When I consider that I've done this without even having my own computer or laptop and amidst total chaos; the chaos that is my brain and the chaos that is this house and my family, it's actually not that easy.

It's a bit sort of obvious or predictable to say I'm proud of my family. My boys. But I really am. It's not that I think 'breeding', as I often hear it disparagingly called, is the epitome of achievement for anyone, particularly a woman. I don't.

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/37788084349673477/

But at the same time, it often seems like something to be almost apologetic about. The old I'm 'just' a mother. Why shouldn't I be proud of being a mother? I'm a keenly aware that there are many people who desperately yearn to be a parent and can't for a myriad of reasons, so I'm grateful.

Some people could argue that almost anyone can make human beings, so it's not an achievement. That may be true, but bringing them up to be decent human beings is a whole other thing. And I may be a tad biased here, but I think my boys are turning out to be pretty decent human beings. So I'm proud. I don't claim to be a perfect mother, far from it, but I must have done something right.

I'm proud of the fact that I stumbled through life not even knowing I was on the spectrum until I was 40.

I'm proud of the fact that I never give up even if I've struggled a lot over the years with my anxiety.  I try to see the funny, silly side of things even when things are a tiny bit shit. I don't see that as being negative. Quite the opposite. My philosophy is, that while my life may not always be perfect, I still haven't lost my sense of humour.

I'm proud of coping much better with things that scared me than I thought I would. Related: I was TERRIFIED of child birth. But I birthed four babies. One of them didn't survive. RIP my little angel baby 'Daniel'.

Without a doubt, I'm proud of beating cancer. I won't lie. Having seen many family members go through cancer, most of them sadly no longer with us, it's always been my deepest, darkest fear. Even a few years ago I could  never have even dealt with the thought of a cancer diagnosis. But I did. And I guess I was 'lucky'. It seems that it was found relatively early and the overall prognosis is good. But even so, the fears still linger in the back of your mind. I'm coping with this the best I can. It's not easy, so I definitely deserve to be proud.

And I deserve that McMansion. Anyone have a spare one? No? How rude. HMPH.

So that was my attempt at being a tremendous wanker. Winning!

Image credit:https://mymeanderingtrail.wordpress.com/2012/11/27/fifth-official-product-review-ever-barney-butter/

Linking up for I Must Confess.
 
What are you a tremendous wanker about? Oops, I mean what are you most proud of?

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My Worst Habit

I have lots of odd, annoying endearing habits.

Such as:

I leave my teabags in.

I snore.

I shave my legs rather infrequently.

I'm very quiet. I rarely talk, preferring to sit there with my resting bitch face on at social gatherings.

I over think.

I like to eat while web surfing or watching TV.

I read lots of self-help/improvement books, then completely ignore them anyway. The way I see it, you can't improve on awesome, can you? Ahem.

I write lists and forget them.

I scratch my ears a lot.

I stim and rock (it's an ASD thing).

I still compare myself with others, although I'm getting better with this one.
I procrastinate.

I collect notebooks and books, creating a lot of clutter.
I'm messy and disorganised.
I'm a day dreamer and space cadet.
I'm forgetful.

I'm addicted to Facebook and the internet. This became rather obvious when we were away on holidays recently with dodgy wifi.

According to Mickey Blue Eyes, I'm too negative. Just the fact that I've written this list of all my shortcomings would be seen as negative to him. I'm not really trying to be negative, I'm just being honest.

But even after writing this comprehensive list, my overall worst habit would have to be my eating habits in general. I just eat too damn much. Especially my beloved cakie things. And chocolate. Let's not forget about chocolate. Sigh.

I must confess sometimes it does feel like I have an eating disorder, except it's the opposite of anorexia. It's like compulsive eating or something. I'm obsessed with food. Some people eat to live, I live to eat.

I probably wouldn't worry about it too much, but the fact that I've had breast cancer and also have high cholesterol means it's quite important for me to have healthy eating habits and keep my weight within a certain range. Even a cancer diagnosis hasn't put me on a clean-eating quest. That's a sign that I have a problem. So it's back to Weight Witches with me this week. I have totally fallen off my broomstick while away on holidays. Sigh. I might need to consider a shrink or hypnosis or something as well. Something has to change.

But I'm always going to leave my teabags in. Don't judge me.

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What's your worst habit?

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My only goal for 2016

2016 has been a challenging year. I kicked off the year with a lovely little trip down chemotherapy lane. I'm sure most of you know that I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer in December 2015. So the first few months of this year were dedicated to getting through treatment. My only goal was to get to the end with my sanity (relatively) in check. Mission accomplished! Well, I do have moments of madness, but mostly everything is fine now.  

Setting goals

But here's a shocking confession: I've never been a person who sets goals and ticks off lists. I've just kind of drifted through life.

I know that probably comes as a huge surprise. OK, not really. It's totally obvious. This blog alone is a dead giveaway. If I didn't have the prompt and link-up every week I'd probably never update this blog. Even so it's ad hoc and all over the place.

I don't have any grand plan for this space, either to monetise or have x amount of readers by December. I just plan to plod on talking to myself and writing and confessing whatever I like, whenever I like. You're welcome.

Connecting to goals or values

This is a confronting or kind of interesting topic for me. I don't really know how to explain it. I don't seem to even know my own mind. That doesn't even make sense. For instance, we know that we eventually want to move, but even if the time was right and we could start making plans and taking action to do exactly that, I have no idea in hell where I want to move to or live.

It's quite strange. Most people would know where their dream address would be. Even it was unattainable unless they won the lottery or robbed a bank or something, they would still have somewhere in mind. I have no idea. Perhaps I just don't cope with change so I'm resisting it? It's just another strange insight to the nutty old world of Ness.

It's the same as connecting to your values. What do I truly value? I would say that I value health and family, yet I still struggle to live in accordance with those values all the time. I'm supposed to be a Weight Witches life time member, but I must confess I've been a very bad witch recently. Oops.

I still keep coming back to this value (health) or goal, so that's the main thing.


A light bulb moment or epiphany

You'd expect that having had a cancer diagnosis would lead to some sort of illuminating moment of utter clarity. I'd know exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life. I'd sit down and write a list of goals and get on with ticking them off like a boss.

No such thing has happened for me. It's weird. It's more a feeling of just wanting more of the mundane. When you have to spend months schlepping off to doctor's appointments all you want is to get back to 'normal'. Suddenly the idea of just doing the grocery shopping or school pick up seems appealing. I didn't want to be a cancer patient, I just wanted to be normal again. And I wouldn't mind having a full head of hair. Related: it is growing back. It's all grey and curly. I look like a lovely, placid sheep. Nice.


A new kind of normal


So here I am, finished with treatment. Now I go on to six-monthly check-ups. The first of which is coming up very quickly in late August/early September. It's a new kind of normal.

And that is my only big goal for 2016 and every other year. Staying boring and normal. You can never under estimate how wonderful 'boring' is. 

The only other goal I had was to go on a holiday with my family. Related: we will be headed to the sunny Gold Coast (via Coffs Harbour) by the time you're reading this! Hopefully we can relax and thaw out for a bit. 



So here's to a boring rest of 2016! Cheers! 

Linking up for I Must Confess

What are your goals for 2016?

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One thing I wish I did differently

There was a time when I wished I did absolutely everything differently. Every single personality trait I have, I wished was the opposite.


Everything I wished was different


I'm quiet - I wished I was... not loud exactly, but bubbly and articulate.
I'm an introvert - I wished I was an extrovert. 
I'm shy- I wished I was outgoing, fearless and confident.
I'm scatter-brained and disorganised - I wished I was focused and efficient.
I'm a drifter and daydreamer - I wished I was driven and disciplined.
I'm nonathletic and uncoordinated - I wished I was sporty. 
I'm a night owl - I wished I was a morning person.

Blah blah blah.

Luckily, I don't have any gender confusion. I don't wish I was a man. Except for rare moments in grotty public toilets when the ability to be able to pee standing up would be an asset. But I digress.


Have I come to terms with all of the above?


I would like to be able to say that I've triumphed over all of the above and am blissfully happy and contented with my quiet, scatter-brained, nonathletic, night-owl self. But I can't. Well, to be honest, being quiet and introverted doesn't bother me as much as it used to, (although it often continues to bother others). However, I still find myself wishing I was much more organised, driven and disciplined. 

I guess it's because I'd like to be able to have something to point to in self-defence. People may like to point out that I'm quiet, but then I'd like to be able say "Well yes, I am, but on the other hand I'm really efficient and organised."

Um, no. No, I'm not. And it kind of irks me, to be honest. I get all whiny and pouty and pissed off like a three year old being denied cake. Or a 45 year old. Details. Shut up.

 If I'm going to struggle in one area, why can't I have another that is a strength? Nope. Lucky me, I get to struggle with social skills and executive functioning.


Always be yourself


And to make matters worse, it's not like my Aspie brain decided to fixate on a really helpful special interest like say, math or, I dunno, gardening or something. My mind decides to fixate on Karen Carpenter. I can remember every little tiny detail I've read or heard about her career and life both good and bad, yet I can't remember where I put my glasses five minutes ago or which school notes are due or what day it is. It's probably Monday if I've posted this. Is it Monday?

The only thing this (my Karen Carpenter obsession) is useful for is time-wasting and making people look at you like you have two heads. Winning! 

That's why expressions like 'be yourself' and 'feeling comfortable in your own skin' annoy me. 

It seems like when advice like the former is doled out it really means: be yourself, but only if you're an outgoing, type A, driven extrovert. 

And I don't know if I'll ever be truly one hundred percent comfortable in my own skin at all times. Maybe accepting that I'm always going to be just a tiny bit awkward is as good as it gets. In this way perhaps I'll worry about it less. I can already see this working. I know I'm always the most quiet person in any given situation, but I can still show up and sit there with my resting bitch face on. It's all good. 

The ONE thing I wish I did differently


Of course I'm just over thinking. As usual. 

So I guess if I was going to pinpoint one thing that I wish I did differently it would be that. I wish I didn't over think about stuff. Especially all of the above. After all, people still genuinely like me the way I am. Some of them even love me and would lose a kidney for me if necessary. And they feel this way without me changing a thing. They like quiet, scatter-brained me, complete with a cake and Karen Carpenter obsession. Well, I'm sure Mickey Blue Eyes wishes I'd get over it at times, but I wish he'd get over his soccer obsession, so we're even. 

And some people will simply never like you even if you gave them a Ferrari, and that's OK. Being liked by everyone sounds exhausting to an introvert like me! 

I suppose I could try an experiment George Costanza style and do the opposite of every instinct I have for a day or two to see how it goes? But then I'd have to not eat cakies. Bugger that!

Yep, it's definitely time to stop over thinking. Now if only I could stop over thinking about over thinking....

I'll have to think about that...



Linking up for I Must Confess.

Linking up again for Friday Reflections.

What's the one thing you wish you did differently?

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