Simple.

Sometimes I feel like the world has gone mad and I'm being swept away with it. Everything these days runs at such a fast pace. I find myself frustrated when it takes more than a millisecond for a web page to load. I rush around, for no particular reason other than the fact that I feel I need to.

But at the same time, I currently have an obsession with living simply. I want to slow down, appreciate the little things and take my time. I have a great respect for the Amish. If it wasn't for the lack of broadband I'd be over there like a shot.

I kid, I kid!

But in all seriousness I have been trying to simplify my life a little. I try and spend at least half an hour with my son outside or at the park everyday. Whenever possible I make things instead of buying things. I try to grow my own herbs. .

I have also decided to learn how to sew. I can't believe I have gotten to my late 20's without knowing how to operate a sewing machine. I have borrowed my mums sewing machine and plan to devour the instruction booklet and then get my housewife on. (I sound all confident now, but I can suspect in a few hours when I am being buried in a tangled mess of bobbins I shall be feeling far less cocky!)

Anyway back to the matter at hand. One thing I truly believe in is op shops. Oh op shops. I love them. You can get some crazy bargains at op shops, AND the money goes to a good cause. You can take your old clothes hanging around your wardrobe and come back with a new set. What is there not to love? A few months ago I paid $5 for a designer dress that still had the $200 price tag on it. I also got my son the very kids couch I wanted for $6 rather than the $25 in Kmart. I love how the clothes are worn in already, and I LOVE how you can get clothes you wouldn't necessarily find in retail outlets. I don't know if shopping at op shops is exactly simple, but its certainly something I recommend.

But living simple is more than just recycled clothes and home made items. Every day, no matter how busy the day, I make myself a cup of tea or milo and just.....be.

In hospital, according to the nurses, a hot drink could cure anything. Sad? Make yourself a cuppa. Angry? A cuppa will sort it out. Headache? Go and grab yourself a nice cuppa. And that old wives adage is true...a cup of something soothing does calm you down, does make you feel better.

So as I'm sipping my drink I don't stress about all the things I have to do. I look away from the towering washing pile. I ignore the dishes in the sink. And I just breathe, and drink, and savour those 15 minutes.

It's my time. It's simple.

NEW BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!

I have now officially moved this blog to the new location:

http://findingmysunshine.net/

Please come along and check it out :)

Being Mummy

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

you make me happy, when sky's are grey

you'll never know dear, how much I love you

so please don't take my sunshine away

From the moment I saw those two pink lines on a pregnancy test my life became about someone else. Was I eating the right things? Was I doing the right things? Should I rest more? Should I exercise more? And it doesn't stop there. I still worry about whether I am doing the best for him and I expect I will his whole life

Yet this parental worry is probably the reason I am still here today. On my darkest of dark days I would look down at the beautiful baby we had created and pushed and forced myself to get up, feed him, change him and hold him.  I told myself that the blackness was my problem, and David didn't deserve to suffer the consequences of it. He held me together more than any medication or doctor could.

Each time I felt like ending it all I would think of my beautiful baby, of him growing up without a mother and how that would affect him later in life. I would take a deep breath, and give my little boy a huge cuddle.

When it became clear that I needed hospital assistance I refused to go anywhere I couldn't take my little boy. I was so frightened of being absent during such an important stage of bonding. Whether that is admirable or foolish i can't say, but thankfully for me there was a mother and baby unit where I was able to take him.

One of the major things I worry about is that he will inherit my illness. Bipolar disorder has a large genetic component and often runs in families. We probably won't find out until he is in his teens...but on the small chance he does develop bipolar disorder I hope I will be able to guide him through it. Sun, storms, rain or shine, I'll always be there for you my darling David. My sunshine.

This just in!

Exciting news! Well...I think so anyway ;)

I have been doing some work on this blog...and you can now register to receive posts by email! Just scroll down....yep...waaaay down there and you'll see the email subscription button.

Oh you can subscribe to my posts too! You'll find a subscription button at the bottom of the page too :)

I looked at my stats today and am pretty astounded as to how many people from all over the world have taken a look at my ramblings. So, to my readers...thank you! xx

Pity the only polar bear saying thank you is wearing a christmas hat....but you get the general picture :)

A cup of courtesy

Recently I have had a spate of incidents that have restored my faith in humanity. Everyone seems so busy nowadays. We are all too rush rush rush and go go go. We stare straight ahead and often don't notice, or don't want to notice what is going on in our peripheries. We're all guilty of it.

But one day I went to the beach, had an ice cream, took some pictures and came home again. About half an hour after I arrived home there was a knock at the door and two girls were standing on my doorstep. "Are you Rachael" they asked.
 "Ummm, yes...." I responded, completely confused.
"You left your wallet at the beach, we thought we would return it to you".
I was amazed, I didn't even notice I had lost the wallet, and these two girls had driven personally to return it to me (they explained they would have taken it to the police station had I not been home). I felt like I needed to give them some sort of prize I was so grateful. But in the end I just thanked them profusely and thanked my lucky stars after they left.

A few weeks ago my car broke down in the turn off lane on a major road. Of course, this caused complete chaos. But what I wasn't prepared for was the level of abuse I copped for being in a situation I had no control over. People honked, swore, rolled down their window to scream at me. Seriously? Like I chose to be in this situation. I was alone and there was nothing I could do. Half of me wanted to dissolve into tears and the other half wanted to get out of the car and hurl abuse back.

But suddenly a man appeared at my window. "Need a push?" he asked.
"Thank you!" I cried with gratitude "everyone is getting so mad!"
"They are idiots, this isn't your fault." he gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder "it'll be ok".
So he gave me a push onto the grass and left when he knew someone was on their way to help with the car. I must have thanked him a million times.

So these things happen, and I firmly believe in passing the kindness on. Kicking the crowd mentality. Stopping when everyone else walks by.

So one day I was walking around in my city centre, having just had a rather nice satisfying lunch with my husband and son. As we got to the car park there was a homeless man sitting on the curb, his head in his hands, a sign next to him saying he was homeless and hungry. Every single person walked past, including myself.

Suddenly I stopped, told Steven I would be back in a sec and I marched back to the homeless man. It had gotten to me. I had just spent a good $50 on a nice lunch, and this guy hadn't eaten for days.  He looked incredibly young, he looked like he could be my friend or my brother. I know lots of people say not to give homeless people money because "they will just buy drugs". Perhaps they are right, but something inside of me that day couldn't take the chance they are wrong.

So I marched up to him, emptied my coins into his hands and then gave him every item of food I had in my bag (as a mother I tend to have all sorts of random foods ready for any emergency). He looked absolutely dumbfounded  then gave me the most heartfelt "thank you." I have ever heard. I wasn't prepared for what a few muesli bars and a handful of coins mean to some people.

"Good luck" was all I really thought to say before racing off to catch up with my family. I thought about him a lot that day.

I'm not perfect, I'm no saint, I have walked by a hundred homeless people before and stared straight ahead. But on those busy busy busy days I try to remember the ones who need help. On the baddest blackest of days I try to think of those who are in a far worse situation. And I do the best I can, when I am able, to be a good citizen, to consider those less fortunate than I, and to not forget just how lucky I am.


So thank you to the girls who returned my wallet, to the guy who helped with my car and the man who helped us with our flat packs. And as for the homeless man, I know it wasn't much but I hope you went a little less hungry that day, I hope you find yourself a warm bed sometime soon.

All mixed up and no place to go...

Another mixed state. That's what my medical team are diagnosing my last episode. Partly psychotic, partly hypomanic, partly irritable. But I'm emerging now and that's the main thing.

Today is the first day I have taken only one Lorazapam to dull my constant restlessness. I simply couldn't sit still, my thoughts were racing a million miles a minute, but unlike my previous hypomanic episodes I felt irritable and annoyed. It was an intensely unpleasant experience.

So my meds have been changed, my Lithium increased, and I feel SO much better. I have switched seroquel for olanzapine. Both antipsychotics, but the olanzapine doesn't zombify me. I wake up and feel like I've actually slept. I dont think I realised how tired I was until I came off the seroquel.

But there is still a part of me that hates the drug regime. Lithium, desvenlafaxine, olanzapine, lorazapam, seroquel, tamazapam...all for me? The pharmacists know me by name, and dole me out my plethora of pills in weekly supplies. I feel like a drug addict. When people ask if I have ever done drugs I just tell them I don't need to. I get natural high's and I get my pills for free at the pharmacy ;)

I will start cutting it down again, once I am full recovered. I'm grateful I have found drugs that work. It's just sometimes I wish I could walk around without pills rattling inside me ;)

A recent photo of myself ;) 

They say the episode was brought on by stress. Your body reacts to stress through chemical changes which can skew the happy chemicals in people like me. I don't really care. I'm enjoying being able to sit down and actually write. To read a little. To not feel like running a marathon 24 hours a day.

And I'm ok. I truly am. I feel somehow that I had a negative energy that needed to be purged through this mixed state. And now the tears have dried, and I have room for positivity again. That black feeling in my chest has gone...and oh how wonderful it is to breathe.

How wonderful it is to be me again.


p.s. Did I tell you I finished my thesis draft? :)

Cake, anyone?

Thought I would share a journal entry from when I was manic in hospital. It makes me laugh...

3/5/2012

To be honest, what the docs call my 'mania' is pretty damn fun. Well mostly. There are some unpleasant aspects to it. But after enduring months of that monstrous depression 'mania' feels good! I want to make a cake. I want to DO stuff.

I didn't realise what was happening until I was immersed in it. And once I was in it there was no way I wanted it to stop.

It started with lots of ideas. I couldn't


Yep. That's it. Couldn't even finish a sentence, never mind a journal entry ;)