Any day of the week you will hear me utter:

“Oh, will you look at all the many fucks I simply do not give!” with a sassy, energetic, sarcastic and generally highly animated delivery.

I had a moment today that made me realise that I’m fooling myself though.

That moment, was when I was traveling home to the house after running around getting Stephanie and Daniel’s shit together for sleepover parties, and picking up various bits and bobs before we hit the road.

It happened on the way home from the mall with James nearly falling asleep, and Steph finally seemingly human again after she’d been replaced by some screaming demon creature thing this afternoon.  There’s a guy, seems he might be a bit toothless, good tan on him, probably in his 60’s I’d say?  Anyway, he often sits at the corner up in Glenfield on the road back to our house, and he dances.  He has some headphones in, a tight 80’s jumpsuit and he just gives ‘er some shit and busts out moves for all to see as they trundle along Glenfield road.  THIS guy ACTUALLY gives zero fucks. I was pretty jealous for a while. But because I am often saying; comparison is the thief of joy, I decided not to be jealous.  He has his road I have mine.  But I have to say, there are some days that standing on a corner on a warm day and listening to good tunes while dancing however THE HELL I WANT TO would be a nicer prospect than the constant, heavy, anxiousness of feeling like I have so much more to do!

And then I got to thinking.  I say that I am done, or I’ll hang up my boxing gloves and get out of the ring.  Seems lately that I’ve done too many rounds fighting to be a decent person, acceptable parent, desirable and interesting woman and friend, above average wife, sustainability champion, boss, bosses wife, traveler, writer, daughter, and joyful participant and observer on the journey through life.  I beat myself up constantly because I should and could do more to be good, and end up dropping the ball so often.

I have fooled a lot of people into thinking that I don’t have any more fucks to give.  The truth is, I probably do.  I still get upset when people struggle and I watch them.  My instinct is to help, but 37 years of sticking my nose into other people’s trials and tribulations has taught me that for the most part, it is better if I let people figure their own stuff out.  I get upset at the news.  I get upset when things go wrong. I get upset when I hurt people by doing or not doing something.  I REALLY get upset when the kids are struggling or there’s issues at home.  I get upset when Grumpy is stressed and miserable to me.  I get upset that the planet is choking.  I get upset the the reefs are bleaching.  I get upset that children go hungry or unprotected or cared for.  I get upset that people do everything right but still fail.  I get upset that ignorance, fear and hatred feeds MORE ignorance, fear and hatred…

So.

I guess for someone who have away her last fuck, I am holding onto quite a few still.

Rather than just caring and feeling stink about the state of play, I do think the best thing myself, or anyone else can do is SOMETHING.  Yes, do something.  The heaviness of the bad stuff can crush you at any moment, but if you keep momentum it will not.

I’m not going to tell you what kind of something you should/could do.  Doing something can be like Yoga, the gym or a walk.  Or it could be planning a massive philanthropic visit to a far flung Nepalese village to teach family planning and distribute medical supplies.  It could be spending more time with your family.  It could be travel.  Meditation.  I ACTUALLY DO NOT GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU DO.  Just keep doing something.  Even if it is actively relaxing or getting some much needed rest.

If you are someone who knows me IRL and I have fooled  you into thinking that I am confident and have a clear direction or path that I am able to pursue without deviation or distraction, I am sorry.  You may hear me say I have no more fucks to give, but I do.  From the bottom of my heavy heart right now I do.  I give quite a few fucks and I’ll try very hard to keep doing something until I can see that something is getting done.

I hope you are able to find some somethings that you can care about and do the same.

XXOO

I got some EXCELLENT advice today.

Short backstory:  Feeling a bit sad and perhaps slightly defeated because mean/dishonest/greedy bullshit creeps in no matter how hard I try to be wary of such clusterfucks and avoid them.  So there’s that sprinkled with a healthy seasoning of “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished”as I feel the guilts build up while I shuffle responsibilities around so I can spend more time with my young family.

Anyway. Boring shit really.

The advice was this:

“When someone fucks you over, it is on them, you don’t have to wear that shit cause it’s heavy and you’ve got better things to do.”

A small kick in the teeth that was welcome beyond belief.

So here’s the thing.  People are people.  They are good, they are bad.  Some are just inherently bottom feeders that actively and knowingly do dumb shit like put money or power above kindness, community, integrity, or care.  They’ll have a woeful row to hoe though.  WOW, check that rhyme kids!  Didn’t even mean to do that.

Here’s an observation that I will share with you for free:

Good people are EVERYWHERE!  Acts of kindness, selflessness and integrity are happening all over the planet every single second, and, for the most part, none of this awesome gets shared or reported.  And yes, good people do dumb shit sometimes.  And sometimes they think or say evil or hurtful things out of fear or ignorance, but I honestly believe that MOST of the people walking around on the earth today are capable of strength and kindness above self-serving or short-sighted gain.

The few properly putrid wank-jockey-knob-end-loser-face-jerk-wipes that you run into in life are so busy climbing, covering their asses, bullying, bull-shitting and generally being repugnant on various levels, that they do not have ANY real time to feel true joy.

They do not have true friends, they have yes people.  They do not have respect, they foster fear.  They will not leave this world better than they found it, they will do damage and justify it to feed an empty that eats them up every moment of their very sad existence. The hell that they endure makes me genuinely sad for them when I am unfortunate enough to cross paths with them.

Not to put too fine a point on it or anything.

So I am blessed to know people who are conventionally rich beyond belief, and also as poor as gentle little church mice.  People can be happy and good with or without money.  Some people are rich and powerful beyond belief because they are consistently good, and smart, and honest. It is an honour to stand next to people like this.  It fills up your heart to work alongside them or hear their wisdom or even opinion on things.  They will go to sleep at night in all manner of beds, some on dirt floors or sleeping rough, others in 1000 thread count sheets, but I can assure you, they are blessed with a restful sleep far more often than those who harbour dastardly plans and agendas.

We can’t always steer clear of assholes in this life.  But we can ABSOLUTELY give what precious time we have to good people, who enrich our lives, share joy, are kind, and make those around them shine.

So fuck you mean people.  Except if you’re being mean because you’re lashing out due to stressful times etc, in that case, I forgive you entirely and my heart goes out to you.  But those consistently prickish plonkers… They can fuck right off for real.

Goodnight.

I’ve been working from the cardiology unit at the Auckland hospital today.

Mother in Law had a heart attack yesterday.  Not a little one, a big one.  She said it didn’t hurt.  That is exactly the kind of downplaying she does all the time.  She’s the toughest person I know.  Seriously, she’d outsmart, outlast and outplay that Bear guy who trundles off in the wilderness with his cameraman no fucking worries.

She’s resting and while she rests I work and when she wakes up I fuss about and annoy her.  Pretty much the same drill as most of our life.  We’re arguing a bit less than usual, because she hasn’t got much fight in her right now.  She is getting more forehead kisses than she’d ever let me bestow under normal circumstances as she’s weak as a kitten.

I Love my mother in law.  She calls a spade a spade, doesn’t bat an eyelid when I say fuck, and she’s the first to call bullshit on me or anyone else if she gets a whiff of it.

She’s very private, and wouldn’t be happy with me writing about her plight as it is, so I won’t give you any details.  Suffice to say, she’s unwell.  I believe that they will get to the bottom of everything and she’ll be fighting fit soon.

I actually can’t comprehend a world without her, as she’s been such a pillar of strength and a source of comfort and support for most of my adult life now.  We’ve travelled the world together and talked about her childhood on trains through Europe.  She’s complained and rolled her eyes at me through the organising of not one but two weddings (both to the same man, her younger son).  And goodness gracious we have played some cribbage.  I’d guess hundreds, if not thousands of hands of crib have passed between mother in law and me over the years.

So while I am sat here on blue plastic hospital chairs, not bothering to fight the tears that are rolling down my fat little face, I am aware that life carries on for absolutely everyone.

Jan, the spunky elderly lady from room one will be going home soon.  She misses her cat and her daughters.  She’s a good solid bogan chick and we’ve had a few great laughs.

Being in the hospital, I have glimpsed the devastation of life coming to an end, just through the corner of my eye in the tears of strangers in waiting rooms and in the corridors.

Every phone call since the event has carried genuine concern for me, mum, Grumpy and our family.  We can carry on and get down to business after stories of how awesome mum is get swapped, and comforting and encouraging words are dropped.

This is another reminder of how fucking ridiculously blessed I feel.  Blessed to be a part of a quirky family who rallied around and shared the news of mum’s illness across the globe in minutes flat.  Blessed to have a husband who knows what it is to Love a strong and independent woman, and also knows how to weather some fairly mind blowing life storms.  Blessed to be a part of a wonderful community of kind hearted and intelligent people.  Blessed to be working alongside doers.  Blessed to have scaffolding of friends, family, and even employees that will make sure the kids are cared for and kept up to date on their Nana.  Blessed to be sitting next to a woman who I Love and respect, and still able to continue working (albeit at a slower pace) on projects I Love.

So, if you’ve heard the news about Mum, she’s stable and hates being in the hospital.  If you’ve taken the time to read this, thank you very much, and if your mother in law is around, it might be nice to tell her you Love her.  I tell mine all the time.  Am confident I will have the chance to do so many, many, many more times yet.

This past fortnight there have been a surplus of inconceivable tragedies among people we Love and admire.

I am white knuckle praying for friends who are waiting to hear back on their five year old daughter’s biopsy.  I am speechless and clueless how best to help a kindred spirit as he holds a bedside vigil next to his soulmate.  They are the real deal, no less than Grumpy and I, and nobody knows if she will ever wake up and what life will be like if she does.

There’s more than enough trial and tragedy swirling around to fill several blogs, and I’ll spare you a list, but I wanted to talk about it because that’s what I do.  I also overshare with visuals, and right now I am feeling sad and vulnerable and lucky me, I was scrolling through looking for a picture of our roadster to send to my friend Danielle and I came across a prime example selfie to illustrate.

Sometimes, when shitty things happen, people cause irreparable hurt by trying to say the right thing.  I am absolutely guilty of this I have no doubt.  But I Love people… and I actually physically hurt for them when tragedy strikes.

No two people will need or want the same thing when they are kicked in the fucking head by tragedy or blindsided by life altering events.

I read a beautiful blog on a friend’s wall once.  She’s an intelligent young woman, caring for her mother with dementia.  She still finds time to Love and support all who are blessed enough to cross her path.  I think about this blog when the shit hits the fan for someone I Love, and seeing as I genuinely Love a tonne of people, I’m given plenty of opportunity to put it to use.

Here’s the thing.  Sometimes, there is just no reason for shitty things happening.  Saying there is kind of a dick move IMHO.  Stealing their thunder or saying you know how they feel, or forcing your spiritual beliefs hoping to help, robs the people struggling through the fucking trenches of life the right to be angry, to grieve, and to handle the situation however the fuck they need to.

So, today, I have to say the only thing I definitely know, is that I just don’t fucking know much.  I don’t know why good people get tested while sociopathic pricks sometimes seem to drift through life unscathed.  I do not know why sometimes it feels like you can handle anything and life is beautiful, and then there are days when you are forced to question everything that falls on your lap.  I do not know why cancer.  I do not know why poverty.  I do not know why greed.  I do not know why corruption.  I don’t know why rape.  I don’t know why misogyny. I don’t know why bullies. I do not know why so fucking much.

I do know this:

The sun will rise each day, if you are ready for it or want it to or not.

There will be moments of joy and pain.  There will be a lot of filler and waiting and hoping and nothing much at all going on.  And then there will be times when we are given a chance to do great things in a moment or with your whole fucking life.

Things will happen that make your heart want to jump out of your fucking chest and sing THE HILLS ARE ALIVE from some lofty Austrian mountain meadow.

And there will be times when you simply won’t want to breath another breath.

But we have to be here for all of it.

Love and strength to those of you shovelling through serious shit.  I have no idea what to say, or do, or how to help… but I promise I Love you and my heart breaks and my eyes won’t dry today thinking about you.

And to those of you having an upswing or feeling magic and joy… Embrace it, enjoy it and write it down somewhere if you can, because the joyful feeling will always come back, even if you are afraid you might never feel it again.

Have a good weekend.  And THANK YOU for reading.  I haven’t written for pleasure in weeks and I really needed to get this stuff out.

XXOO

Dee

A friend (Michelle) is a motivated fitness and nutrition expert wrote me a diet plan.  I need to print it out and start following it.  The issue is that the days are busy and the nights are exhausting so something as simple as printing and shopping to get started keeps falling int the too hard basket.  I’ll print it out while I am in at the office today…  I mean it this time!

MEANWHILE.  The Love of my life Phteven has informed me that we are also starting something called the 5:2 diet.

Here’s the link to the doco that got Grumpy all fired up to try this new diet for anyone who might be interested:

The basic premise has something to do with fasting twice a week to halve the amount of some nasty hormone that is released if you eat heaps of protein or something. In the coles notes version Grumpy imparted to me yesterday, he explained there’s a hormone that makes you fat, gives you cancer, causes diabetes.

According to the documentary I have not yet watched, there are little people who don’t make a lot of this bad hormone, and they live for aaaagggggeessss apparently.  Steve was explaining this all to me in the car and the kids overheard and chimed in with:  “Oh, Hobbits live for AGES!  Everyone knows that.” Cute kids.  They make me laugh, so I shall keep them a bit longer I suppose.

Okay.  Whatever.  I am in this marriage for better or worse so if he insists we do this thing I will give it a good honest varsity try.

For 5 days of the week I can eat WHATEVER I like.  However, I will be trying to stick to Michelle’s diet on these days.

On the fasting days, I am allowed no more than 500 calories.  Do you know how much food 500 calories is.  FUCK ALL.  That is the actual amount of food that you are able to eat before reaching 500 calories.

In REAL terms, fuck all food would be:  Four slices of bacon, or five bananas.  One cream cheese bagel or a frappe…

So I am currently tossing up if I should take a “before” picture today and then document the journey back to MILFdom.  Getting to be tight like a tiger is going to take some doing as I’ve successfully perfected the chubby mom-jean genie and for real frumpy thing lately.  And because I have no intention of staying this fat, I have not bought appropriate summer clothes for my current curvaceous self.

Sigh.  Okay, so here’s the “Before” shot from today.  I guess I have to wear the same outfit for the after shot and blow everyone away with my svelte self.

So that is me at 70kg.  I have no idea what it is in pounds, but for someone who is hobbit height such as myself, it is rather a lot.

So, bring on the starvation twice a week, and then hopefully some results as well.

Have a great day everyone.

Dee

When I was young, I knew so much.

Seriously, I was an expert on heaps of shit.  I was an expert on some music I liked and memorising lyrics and singing those songs with my friends.

I was an expert on how fucking fabulous I would be as a parent compared to my lame ass parents who kept me from being a social ninja (disclaimer:  no amount of parental intervention or lack thereof would have made me a social ninja as I was an overly emotional weirdo with social anxiety who always went WAY too far with shit).

I was definitely an expert on how I’d change the world once I won my first grammy and how fame would not change me and I would be the most gracious and caring saint of an adored celebrity.

I was an expert on how lame heaps of stuff was.  I was an expert on how fabulous some other shit was.  I probably had a functioning strategy for creating world peace, if ONLY SOMEONE WOULD FUCKING LISTEN TO ME!

So, I’m pretty old now and the strangest thing has happened.  I’ve realised, that I really, truly don’t know what the fuck is going on a good chunk of the time.

Seriously.  I have given birth to four fabulous humans.  They all seem to be simultaneously experiencing different difficult phases and in varying levels and degrees of distress and delinquency.  I read articles, actively seek advice, I enlist the help of experts to assist and support myself and the kids… All of this happens with differing degrees of success.  Occasionally, we have a major breakthrough and overcome an issue or behaviour or see confidence and resilience shine with dazzling intensity in one of the kids.  And whenever that happens, there seems to be no apparent rhyme, reason or rational to adequately offer me answers or a formula to how or what we did right by our babies.

In my working life, I will lose my mind with angst and intensity.  I will gnash my teeth, throw up my arms, heave my body and soul through the cosmos of creativity to develop a campaign or idea that I feel absolutely confident is going to change the course of humanity, and the idea ends up being a huge flop and I can’t even get budget sign off to give it wings.  In other instances, I will jot down an idea or two, make a couple of calls and then pull of an epically successful activation or event with far reaching (and reasonably accurate) social and traditional media coverage.

In personal relationships, I can have a solid stint of seven or more years with someone popping in and out of my life and us being able to celebrate our diversity and always pick up where we left of.  I am forgiven for being busy and missing important events because of work, travel and family commitments and we get to make the most of our time together and laugh and cry and carry on with a kind of beautiful and spiritual intensity that makes life worth living.  We EVEN like each others shit on Facebook and make hilarious public quips that will have any onlookers rolling in the aisles.  Then.  I get unfriended and my attempts to call or text are ignored.  (This happens VERY rarely cause most of my friends are AMAZING and patient and feel my many faults are worth hanging in there for the good times for)

So I’m just going to say it.  I often have no fucking clue what is going on.

All I do know is this:

In your heart of hearts and deep in your gut, you know when you are doing something shitty, or forgetting to do something really important.  So, Listen to your heart and your gut and use your brain to make good choices when choices must be made.

Be consistent.  Be kind.  Be authentic.  Be honest.  Take risks and totally take responsibility for the shit that you do.  Good and bad, own it.  Basically… most situations in life can be best handled by following this popular buddha meme:

All the other shit appears to be little more than a crap shoot.

I have zero magic formula for life, because we are all so different and the rules keep on changing all the time it seems.  Truth be told, I am having a bit of trouble shovelling through the shit in the big, creepy, badass barn that is my own journey, so I won’t go telling you how to feel or think or what you should or shouldn’t do.

So I am going to leave it there for tonight and go and do some work now because it is the right thing to do and the baby has just gone to sleep.

It felt fucking fabulous just to get that written down.  Feels even better when I think someone somewhere might read it and feel better for it, so, thank you for reading my disjointed thoughts…  I wish you strength, and Love, and heaps of peace and comfort if you’re in need of it.

XXOO

Today, I shone bright like a diamond.

I was at my sweary, honest, confrontational best (or worst, depending on who you talk to, I suppose).

At one point, I was explaining to someone why I did not like them very much.  Reason being, I had done a lot of work to help them out, and been dismissed and never thanked for any of it.  And that shit pisses me off. For real pisses me off.  Gratitude is important.

I then got to go on a short but effective tirade about the fact we work closely and effectively with a wide range of wonderful people.

Perhaps, I went a bit far, when I said:

“And the thing is, this time last year, I am pretty sure a fair whack of our closest allies probably thought Steve was batshit crazy and I was just a loud bitch with some form of Tourettes because of my impressive potty mouth!”

To which.

My adoring and supportive husband replied:

“But you are a bitch”

Pregnant pause.

“…and you swear more than someone with Tourettes.”

Luckily, I was in a good mood today.  We remain married and I can’t really argue with his assertion.

And we continue to enjoy the absolute shit out of the work we do and the people we are working with.  Even the very few I do not particularly like very much.  And goodness knows there’s precious few people in that camp indeed.

Have great week everyone.

So the original plan (which has not currently come to fruition) was to write a frequent and lighthearted blog about some of the shit I get up to.  And to not have it harken back or be at all related to the other blogs and social media personalities that I maintain…

A place where I can say FUCK and drop the c-bomb if it is actually a worthy situation for such colourful language.

That is how I envisage this blog.

Soooo… maybe I’ll go ahead and start.