A Year Later

Dave and I having a conversation in the kitchen this evening, fuelled by wine and beer, about this current moment. A year on... whats happened and what hasn't.

I'm writing again... after a 6 month break. It may not last but I found myself writing this blog in the shower and at the dinner table and on the ride home today...so here it is.

I am a different person. I am stronger and more vulnerable at the same time.
For the first time in my life I am an adult. I mean that in the saddest, least teenage fantasy, beige tax accountant kind of way.
At 35, nearly 36, I have for the first time in my life experienced a year of life, when I alone am responsible for my own happiness without the comforting, soft landing of Mum.

I am not sure I am qualified for this. I am different to who I thought I was. Better? maybe. Worse? sure, sometimes.

I am a fitter, healthier, weirder, sadder, more aware, less oblivious, more honest, less childish, more average, darker person. It has been the hardest year, which has, in turn, made me able to do and with stand harder things.

I dont believe she is with us, or watching over us. I am sorry, I just don't feel it. I wish with all my being that she was an ethereal being following my every move and guiding me from afar, but thats not true. The closest thing I can see is that she is in me, my memories and my actions because she taught me. But if the Disney version of Ghost Mum existed, with her harp and her halo and her wings, sitting on her fluffy cloud watching me and the girls and Dave and Dad, I think she would be proud of the fact that even though it is different and it has sucked and we miss her terribly, we have lived. We have moved forward inch by inch and we will continue to.

Is 2017 that balm that we need to sooth the ragged edges left by 2016? Nah, I doubt it, but if I can write another blog in a years time, it means I have at least got my fingers, my brain and my Mac, so we will be ok....

It doesn't rain it hails a fiery shit storm

I am late for work, my cat does a massive chewed up mouse and fur spew on the carpet and I have no bread to make lunches so I fashion a sandwich like shape from mushed up rice bubbles.

It doesn't rain, it doesn't poor.... the shit hits the fan and the fan then falls on your head.

There is no coffee in the house, the toaster literally went up in flames and claimed the last hot cross bun as its sacrifice. The computer system at work fails and I am now officially in 1933 with a rubber stamp and that stupid purple paper stuff.

And Finally...

Work finished, my bus pulls up at my stop, 1st I drop my phone and my headphones are ripped from my ears and fling into my bra, promptly lodging themselves in my boobs with the force of bullets. While I am picking up my phone, I drop my smart rider and it flips down under the bus. While I am arse up trying to retrieve my smart rider, the shopping bag I am holding splits and the cans of instant icing I have just brought go rolling onto St Georges Tce.
The bus driver is holding back his laughter so hard I am pretty sure he tinkled. So now I have my hands full of icing tins and my smart rider is in my mouth, so I get on the bus, lean my face against the smart rider box thingy so it beeps and fall into the closest seat. In my head all I can hear is fucking applause.

This a true story, ok the toaster thing happened to a friend but the rest was all Caroline.


This blog is dedicated to a friend who is going through a much worse fiery shit storm. You are one of the strongest people I know. Keep on going x