Too Old to be Young...

A few weeks ago I thought I was staring 35 dead in the face with courage and an erudite sense of calm detachment. But that was a few weeks ago… 

 As each day since has clocked past, the 35-ness continues to crawl further up my body, clawing and scratching as it continues to engulf me. At night, this creature injects strange poison into my body, making my left knee ache and my neck suddenly contort into a strange position akin to the exorcist. Muscle spasms, I hear, are a part of being infected with this cretinous affliction which most people have dubbed ‘Middle Age.’ I, myself, do not agree that these gentle words are fitting to name such a beastly and pervasive malady.

Here’s the thing, I had decided who I was, what I wanted and where I was going. I had recently recovered from the sideways blow delivered by the transition into marriage and was enjoying the new found sense of ‘who me be.’ I had things SORTED OUT!

And then, over-night, all these strange things started to happen! I was suddenly aware of my body clock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. It began to boom inside my head in some vivid imitation of the sickening death knell I once heard in a tawdry 80’s horror flick.  I started noticing babies. Human babies- not gorgeous little baby animals- but squinty, wrinkled, squawking, ill-defined homosapien miniatures.  And not in the usual way that I have always noticed babies- as announcements that the dreaded mandatory, zippered valour tracksuit is nearby… But in the interested, peering-over-the-railing-on-the-pram-to-get-closer-look kind of interested. I came home after a shopping expedition last week and announced to my husband that I had seen a cute baby. So used to this kind of sentence NOT coming from my mouth in reference to a human, he said, “oh really? Baby what?” It was then I realised that I had been infected with something nasty! What was happening to me??? It felt foreign and unspeakable!

 

"What's going onnnn?"

In addition, I started…this is difficult for me to admit so bear with me…

I.

Started.

Nanna.

Napping.

The girl who was afraid to sleep in on weekends because she might miss something fun and was always too wired during the day to sleep was taking NANNA NAPS??? And what’s worse…enjoying them… With my feet perched in the warmth of my husband’s lap as he read his book, my head slightly erected by the couch and cocked to the side with a throw cushion, I slept like a-well-an old person! 

It’s true that about a year ago I began to look at clothes and shoes and think ‘they look comfortable,’ but I was mostly able to hide these awkward occurrences by racing to the nearest inappropriate and uncomfortable item that was nearby. It’s also true that post age 32, when I got a dinner invitation that that stated a start time after 7:30, I would groan and complain that ‘I simply could not wait that late to eat dinner!’ I would begin planning the appropriate snack to tide me over. Um, well, to be honest, I would really plan a ‘first dinner’ to tide me over until ‘second dinner’ (well, if the Hobbits can do it with breakfast…). Yet, I never truly succumbed to the truth that I was skidding towards Middle Age with a jet-fuelled power-pack strapped to my back and roller skates on. Yes, I am too old and my generation skipped roller blades but luckily I have lived long enough to see a resurgence of ‘cool’ in the archaic roller skate. 

And this is where I am- stuck in Land Between Time. Too old to be young. Too young to be old. Trying to remember how to roller skate as I wobblingly wind my way through crowds of adults clutching mini-people, searching for an information centre where I can stop and ask for directions to DINK-Ville. My metaphorical iPod has been blaring the repetitive mental clamouring of what I was supposed to have done or achieved or weigh by this age. I clutch an imaginary checklist with- if I do say so myself- an appropriate number of things checked off to take to whoever gives enough of a damn to look. Married-check! Kids- no check. Career-check! Nice home-check! Lots of useless accoutrements- check!  Fast car-check! The thing is, who am I supposed to take the list to? Wasn’t someone supposed to pat me on the head and say ‘well done?’ at this point or something?

So, here I am-officially diagnosed with this thing that will only continue to grow bigger. Middle Age. I have only two more days until it engulfs me completely. The thing I am most afraid of? Not knowing who I am as a woman afflicted with Middle Age. Will the intensity of the Tick Tock Biological Clock subside? Am I ever going to be able to squat down again without that painful crack in my left knee? Am I going to get through an entire day and make it to a dinner party after 7:30 sans yawning? Is my neck going to get stuck in a permanently crooked position from too much nanna-napping? Will I succumb to the alluring call of the comfortable shoe or the increasingly irresistible pull of the go-with-anything- iron-free-linen-look-wide leg slacks? Is the skin on my upper arms loosening at this pace so that I can use it as aeronautical lift and eventually learn to fly? Because so far it has only served to wave as enthusiastically as my hand can. And what am I meant to do with the oddly sprouting hair on my jawline? Is this some sort of alien-implanted crop? Am I being experimented on while I sleep? And why are people suddenly referring to me as ma’am? What’s that all about? And furthermore, what’s next? Will my ankles begin to disappear under the heft of the southward-calf-pull? Are kids going to be giving up their seats for me on public transport? Just kidding. That’ll never happen- I don’t use public transport! Although I may need to reconsider that at some stage because I have noticed my night vision isn’t what it used to be…

But, dear friends, please promise me just one thing- it’s my Youth’s last dying wish. If I ever start wearing pastel-coloured pedal pushers with matching floral ‘blouses’, or speaking about ‘mauve’ being an appropriate hair colour choice- please call the authorities immediately to report a missing person. The Abby I know and love will have been captured entirely by this ghastly affliction. Please waste no time in sending out the search party! 

Missing Person: Abby. Last seen in March 2015. Likely to be wearing something odd and colourful. Approach with chocolate and red wine and lure to the nearest boutique.

 

 

 

 

Yours in current sound mind and slightly bedraggled body,

Wyld. xx

The Definition of Adulthood and the 44 signs you've arrived: as told by two old, married bastards.

There comes a point, presumably in every person’s life (but who are we to judge?), when that post-adolescent-idealism fades and the 20’s gloss wears off. The scratched and murky coloured surface that remains can only be called ‘adulthood’. The transmogrification can occur so gradually that you only realise it when you spot your first grey pube (or you realise you have been in the public service so long you have become a grey pube)... Conversely, sometimes it’s onset is incredibly sudden, such as when you find yourself praising manners in the ‘young’ man or woman who served you. 

Regardless, the onset of adulthood is generally followed by a period of grief as we are taunted with the knowledge we have moved firmly into Adult-Ville. We now live on the corner of Fucking Old Street and Whiny Bastard Avenue.

For us (two ‘old’ married bastards), this occurred in separate events. Chris’s ‘big-yet-little moment’ came when he reflected that he staunchly defended his comic book collection to his new wife as important ‘graphic novels.’ This was further solidified when he saw the ‘new starters’ at his work place and began using the phrases; ‘when I was your age’ and ‘back in my day.’

I had a more tumultuous graduation into ‘adulthood’. I fought and kicked like any good Rottweiler, only to find that I began to scour the shelves of boutique wine shops for Argentinian Malbec or Chilean Tempranillo. No longer clinging to my beer while rocking out to ‘Loveshack’ in a crowded and smoky bar, I would 'daintily' slurp my Spanish wine from Waterford crystal while watching the oven timer to ensure my Spanikopita didn’t burn. However the saddest moment came when I excitedly asked a shop assistant at KMart if the sign was correct. Could it really be that a five pack of bikini briefs in size 18 was only $2??? To add insult to injury, I gleefully stretched at the waist, checking the sizing and girth of the fabric, unconsciously emulating the scenes from my childhood where my mother had played the starring stretching-undies role. 

And this, dear readers, marks the arrival at Grand Central Station, Adult-Ville. After yet another ‘Friday Night In’, my husband and I curiously posed the question: what's the landscape in Adult-Ville? We arrived at this sure-fire, 44 point check list. To play an even more adult version of let's check who's an adult', simply add one for every question you answer yes to. 1-20= late adolescence (enjoy it while it lasts). 21-30= entering Adult-Ville (you will soon notice your first grey hair...somewhere...). 31-42= sucked in, you are just like us!

1. Toys are no longer toys. They are ‘collectable figurines'
2. Underwear is no longer for sex appeal, but for sucking in the lumpy bits 
3.  Status updates are taken over with photos of your children
4. If you don’t have children, you refer to pets as your babies
5. Wine is no longer served from a cask, referred to as ‘goon’ or used as a vehicle for getting hammered. It is, in fact, a show piece and talking point at a dinner party
6. You forget what Passion Pop tasted like and you never, EVER drink pre-mixed, flavoured vodkas

   

   Although anything goes on New Year's Eve!!!

7. Board games have a resurgence of ‘cool'
8. Cooking is no longer something you pay a restaurant to do for you
9. You use the words ‘superannuation,’ ‘tax benefit’ and ‘interest rate’ at least once a month
10. It is exciting to use excel for budgeting and there is an inherent thrill in getting the numbers in the black
11. Clothes go on the hanger automatically. The floor is for feet
12. You refuse to pay full price- EVER
13. You stop being afraid of hearing the word ‘no.’ You’re getting better at using it too!
14. You wear clothes you never dreamed you would wear in your twenties because you no longer give a shit what others think of your body. If your bits work, and something fits, you go for it!
15. Having a big poo is an exciting conversational piece
16. Aches and pains begin to be a daily occurrence. And things crack where you never thought they could...
17. You realise that sounding intelligent is often dependant on throwing a few big words and a snide look into a conversation
18. If you are a man, you have more than two pairs of shoes. If you are a woman, you begin to weigh up the cost of shoes compared to other household items that could be comparably purchased... and this becomes a real consideration! 
19. You wear Ugg boots to bed because your blood supply no longer seems to travel to your feet in winter
20. Ironing becomes a thing you just do
21. Hobbies no longer include drinking and fucking but gardening and crafts
22. Getting a-head refers to something you do at work, not on a Friday night out
23. You realise that movies made after 1990 are all going to be mostly crap. Never Ending Story, Indiana Jones and Back to The Future will always be your classics. And nobody will ever do it like the Ghostbusters
24. You own a man-bag. But prefer it to be called a ‘satchel’
25. You have a clean house most of the time, not just when the rental inspection is due
26. Things like squid ink pasta, mouldy cheese and marinated bug meat sound appealing and no longer invoke the ‘chuck’ reflex
27. Shopping at a fresh food market becomes an ‘outing’ you look forward to
28. You can no longer eat anything you want. Suddenly, it appears on your ass every day in small increments
29. You ask your pets questions and answer for them in quirky voices

    

    "Oh really Mister Wabbit? You're weally weally late?"

30. You cook your pets things like salmon, scrambled eggs, bacon and steak because... ‘it’s their favourite’
31. You have to consider the length of flights versus the leg room you will have on them. Business class suddenly becomes a viable option
32. You can’t decode this: Churz, LMFAO,GTFO, Totes Gr8. Lol
33. You know who Bill Murray is 
34.  You shower before sexual activity to be polite
35. You can remember the last time you changed your bed sheets
36. You begin to see condoms as convenient for cleanliness, not contraception 
37.  Something that starts at 8pm is a really late night
38. ‘Cultural activity’ includes seeing diverse plays and listening to a range of music, not just snogging as many different coloured people as possible
39.  Shoes are chosen for comfort. The ‘cute’ heels begin to be the low, thick heeled wedges you can actually walk in rather than the hot pink stilettos 
40. Your knees hurt inexplicably
41. You can still remember how cool it was to win a level of Pacman
42. You complain. In writing
43. Antique stores, old churches and historical landmarks become interesting and you actually stop to read the informative plaques
44. You can no longer put up with bullshit silently and your friendship group becomes smaller but better. As a result, you have more people you can bitch about in your elite group of cool people

There is very little one can do when our train heads to Adult-Ville except bask in the primary glory that accompanies finally arriving. This can be summarised in three simple lines: “I no longer care what you think or expect. I am me. Get used to it or fuck off.” 

So, like, rock on and stuff...

This liberating sentence and the freedom that comes with it, is worth every knee crack, back pain, grey hair and odd rude-bit malfunction that could possibly arise (or not as the case may be). Us two old farts recommend embracing this beautiful phase-change and invite you to call on us if you ever want to swap big words or share a bottle of obscurely named Spanish wine. 

Until next time, with butterfly kisses
Wyld and Captain Awesomo 

2014: The Year of the Inner Child.

This year, 2013, swamped in a list of to-do’s and must-achieves, my inner child (the one who loves to suck on lolly pops while playing on the swing and blowing bubbles) packed up and moved out. It didn’t happen straight away. She hung around for a while, trying to sneak out of her room on weekends, only to be yelled at: ‘there is too much to do, just go to your room’. One day in September, she packed her nap-sack with the toys she could carry and left home. Quietly, she snuck out the window and I had to no idea where she went. All I could feel was this tight knot inside my stomach, a pulsing across my chest and an ache in my heart telling me she was no longer in residence.

Instead, the presence of a new house guest pervaded my waking moments. A time-limited, tired, stressed out, grumpy woman moved in and, without asking, removed all the play time from my inner child. This woman found faults in everything. In people, in items, in situations, but most vigorously, she found faults in herself. This tired woman grew wearier, weaker, sadder and angrier, and began to wish she had given the little girl time to play. ‘Perhaps she would have stayed a little longer…’ the old woman lamented.

"Off with your head!"

Luckily, the little girl was only hiding under the house, waiting and listening for the old woman’s tears of sorrow, begging for her to return. And return she did in the form of a long pink bubble wand and a pair of soft pink wings embroidered with satin stars. A gift from my husband who knew all I needed was to laugh for a while…

No-one is ever too old for a  wand, some bubbles and a set fairy wings. It's just a fact.

After a while, the knot in my stomach began to undo and the tightness in my chest began to loosen. My inner child took up permanent residence again and I learnt to remember to let her out to play for more often. The grumbly old woman is dying a slow death, but she is in the basement so she makes less noise these days.

During this time I came to a number of conclusions, and had to unlearn some false truths I had been living by in order to continue to silence the old woman. I share these with you in the hope that one or more of these ring true for you, and maybe make your 2014 a little more playful.

1. What I learned through this ordeal is that so often we are far, far too hard on ourselves. This abrasive approach to our lives can tip us over the edge during times when our resilience is low and we can find ourselves washed up on the shore, battered, bruised and barely conscious. We can push, thrash and berate ourselves, not stopping to notice what we have done right, but agonising long and hard over the things we feel we failed to do, or didn’t do correctly. This is a personal habit that can grow so slowly, we do not even know it is happening. We can also live or work in environments that contribute to this state of being. A negative workplace culture can wreak havoc on our senses. If we have been immersed for some time, we might not even realise the damage that a place or the people which co-habit it are having on our psyche.

2. Just because we can do it, doesn’t mean we should. We might be smart enough, driven enough or in a circle elite enough to have/do/be a certain thing. This doesn’t mean that it is good for us or that our psyches will enjoy it. Some people are just too sensitive or too creative or too ‘something’ to thrive and be happy in some roles. If it won’t contribute to joy, the title/thing is not worth it.

3. Other people do not have it all together. Whatever happy-clappy-crap people might post on their public profiles, no-one has it all together. Everybody, in more areas than one, is a just a bit fucked up. Some more than others. But everyone is. From the professor who cuts herself because sometimes her mental demons get too loud, to the woman grieving for a baby she feels she has no right to grieve for, to the man who gets himself in obscene debt trying to buy happiness, to the mother who resents and belittles her child, to the woman deriving purpose from being able to rigidly control her food intake, to the woman who has dreams she is afraid she won’t achieve so instead builds a family as a convenient excuse not to go for what she wants. Everybody, regardless of their status updates, is hiding a little piece of ‘fucked up.’ And that’s just fine and dandy.

A little bit of 'broken' is a very good thing.

4. It’s easy to keep doing something that isn’t working for us because we are afraid of the alternative. Everyone who has an issue, be it weight, relationship, lack of purpose, shitty job, no money, can do something to change their situation. The truth is, we are often- bizarrely- more afraid of how succeeding will affect and change our lives than we are of maintaining the status quo and knowing what to expect.

5. Nothing in this world is going to feel like real and lasting happiness unless we are going for what we want on a reasonably consistent basis. Picture a happiness bank account. When we make a choice that is congruent with what we want/picture/dream/hope for our lives, we make a deposit. Some are big deposits, others are smaller. But they all add up. Conversely, if what we say we want and what we do are incongruous, we withdraw from our happiness bank account.  It’s very easy to get caught up in what has no meaning at all. Real happiness actually has little to do with present moment and more to do with what we build in our lives over time. Muhammad Ali once said  “I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.' Awesome!

6. Dimming who we are is fucking pointless. Because really, who cares what someone thinks? In order to be remarkable, we have to be remarked upon. If someone wants to say something, let them! The oddity is, many of us spend time and energy trying to hide the coolest parts of ourselves because our in-laws, colleagues, neighbours or acquaintances might dislike us. But these aspects of us really are what make us- us! They make us quirky, give us style, define our goals, foster our creativity. I am sick of worrying about the opinions of anyone else. I am loud. I like weird vintage clothing and strange hats. I get weird around Christmas and birthdays. I enjoy wearing fairy wings while watering the garden and loudly singing the songs playing on my iPod. I get nervous around my in-laws and, when stressed, I recall scenes from The Young Ones and randomly laugh out-loud to a scene no one else can see. I discuss what I am going to wear each day with my dog, as he watches what I choose from my wardrobe. I know most of the lines from The Wizard of Oz and can recite scenes on cue. I am a big nerd and love studying and there is nothing cooler than doing research and discussing ideology with others. I have a polka-dot fetish and I still read Dr Seuss. I believe that if I keep writing, the audience will come. There. I have said it all. My freak-flag is flying high. Whoopy!

"You look fine, mum. But does this Tiara make me look fat?"

If 2013 was the year of ‘head down, bum up’, 2014 is going to be the year of ‘head up, thumbs up.’ I refuse to be negative about myself or take on the negativity of others in my environment, understanding that I can simply change my self-talk or my physical location if I so choose. I refuse to take on mammoth loads or roles that bring out parts of myself I don’t like, knowing that just because I can do something, does not mean I should in any way. I refuse to take on the negativity of others with the understanding that their own ‘fucked up-ness’ is just coming out to play. I refuse to whine about something on a continual basis unless I am actually making a concerted effort to change it as I know that while things remain the same, I am accepting the status quo. I refuse to spend time or energy on things that will not contribute to my overall goals for a happy life, knowing that which does not giveth, taketh away. I refuse to stifle my own laughter or hide my flaws as I understand that letting my own freak-flag-fly is half the fun. After all, if you put a candle inside two pots, more light is going to shine through the cracked pot than the one still intact. This year, my friends, my hope for all of us is that we can live as brightly-lit cracked pots, each with our very own happy inner child! Here’s to 2014!

In 2014, give your inner child a safe and happy place to play. Acknowledgements to sophlylaughing. blogspot.com via google for the image. 

Till next time, love and butterfly kisses. Wyld. xx

You Have No Power Over Me.

Are you familiar with the infamous plot-line in a variety of pop-culture films where the protagonist is caught between one world and another and can’t get back? Those who are of my vintage will remember the classic example, Labyrinth, where Sarah struggles on a journey to find her brother, through endless mazes to meet and beat the Goblin King. On the way she learns about friendship, unfairness, but most importantly she learns trust in herself. Her killer line that shatters and disintegrates the Goblin King and sends her hurtling back into the world she belongs to has to be one of the best lines in a movie EVER: “You have no power over me”. I love this line so much and often recall this scene in my mind if I am struggling with a person or situation. I just adore this entire film from start to finish, not to mention the life-long addiction to mauve make-up the masquerade ball scene inspired. I must own every shade of mauve eye-shadow in human existence.


Labyrinth. Forever a classic.

I adore this plot line because it encapsulates the struggle that many of us can feel when we are on the journey to making a change and haven’t quite gotten there yet. It also highlights the struggle faced by those who have suffered a great deal of trauma in their lives, from one single ordeal, an entire childhood, or a whole lifetime. Often people who have experienced trauma find that they can distance themselves from it sufficiently to create another life, a life which almost seems incongruent to what they may have seen or lived through. However, the trauma and the resulting self-protective behaviours can rear their ugly heads during times of emotional turmoil, when events trigger deep emotions or when an individual is feeling threatened or backed into a corner. It is in the midst, or shortly after these moments, that one may ask themselves: “does the Goblin King really have no power over me?”



Sarah, in the midst of her journey, coming face to face with the Goblin King.
Photo taken from: http://www.samanthapeach.co.uk/wordpress/



 

It is almost a feeling of being stuck. Knowing a better way but not being able to move there permanently. Here’s my theory on this one: We attract what we think about, right? We might know on one level that we can achieve a certain life, and we might even believe we are owed it after suffering a quantifiable amount of hardship. Now allow me to make a crude distinction. I am not referring to those who live with a chip in their shoulder, believing that life owes them something and other people should pay for their crappy life or crappy choices. No, I am referring to those who opted for the sweaty way out of a situation. Most prominently, those who worked for it. Hard slog. Achievement after achievement, those who banked away small credits that would eventually be able to be cashed in for a special life. The life they have been working towards. And this picture varies for individuals. For some it is travel and living blissfully without an address. For others it exists in a picket fence, with their partners name emblazoned across the mailbox. For some, it lies in the attainment of a ‘perfect’ family. Whatever the dream is, the chips have been cashed in and the prominent features of this dream have appeared.

Image taken from: www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk 

Over the years, the coping skills have increased, the social circle has changed, the economic status has risen, the social credits have rolled in, the affirmations have arrived. Yet somehow, some moments can trigger a total recall of all that has been learned and achieved and daylight witnesses the emergence of a sad, scared, wounded soul- whatever this may look like for different people. It is in these moments people can sink into a nothingness. A black hole which threatens to engulf all that has been rightfully earned and learned. I have a name for this. It’s the influence of ‘modern power’. This ridiculous idea that others ‘have it all together’. Others can somehow deal with all these situations. Others can ride through life flawlessly. It’s this mind-numbing and inhuman ideology that is rampant through our culture that we should somehow have everything 'together'. All aspects of our lives ‘should’ be in control. Other people can do it, why can’t I? It is a complete fallacy that is shoved down our necks constantly. Facebook is a prime example. Yes it’s a great way to stay in touch, but it also gives the impression that everyone is happy all the time. Except those who use it as an emotional outlet for every thought that runs through their heads. Be honest, we all keep a few of those on our friend list simply because it makes a great daily narrative. However, the gossip aside, we see people living it up on holidays, being perfect mothers raising perfect children, people changing the world through various events and starting or helping charity organizations, and people posting vomit-worthy pictures of happy couple-dom. Yes, I am guilty of the latter. And one need only turn on the television for two minutes to have all their worst fears confirmed by advertising: everyone else has it together and if you just had this phone, diet pill, cleaning product or clothing, you would too. This is one of the reasons I do not have my television connected!

This is all nonsense. That feeling of being stuck, coming undone or not coping in a given situation is not unique to us in a single moment. Its common and everyone goes through it. It’s just that no one talks about it. No one is posting photos on Facebook of their kids screaming, their house in a shambles and the empty packets of TimTams they just consumed to try stay sane. Sure, there a photos of gorgeous groups of girls sipping pretty cocktails, but ain't no one posting photos of the morning after! Imagine a dinner party where someone announced; “yes, I am newlywed and I have some doubts about my role in this thing.” Everyone would go silent. Wanna know how I know? From experience! And this was at a table of friends! Who I will now call pseudo-friends. As a side note: pseudo friends are those who like to gloss over the muddy moments of life and go straight to the high-gloss. The people who you feel that if you put under any sort of heat would melt like plastic. These are the people around whom you tend to feel a little less certain of yourself.

"Really? Am I the only one?"

We are simply not taught to unpack the rough stuff and certainly not in public! Yet everyone goes through it. Everyone has those moments where they find themselves in a situation that they actively created and yet don’t know what to do with. Think of Charlotte in Sex N the City 2 (yes, I watched it, it’s not as bad the second time through, or the third or fourth...). She wanted children desperately and yet found herself sobbing in the pantry cupboard one day, unsure of how to manage her competing roles on that day. And I stress ‘on that day’ because this happens to all of us at one point or another. And to say it doesn’t either makes us a liar, inhuman, or without personal goals.

My point is this: we are all on a journey. We are all ‘killing the Goblin King’ in the bigger sense when we work towards a personal goal. Those moments let us have the chance to realize that we are getting somewhere. We may be tired, under siege and managing many things that lead us to a not-so-glamorous moment, but these are NORMAL! And when a moment like this appears in our lives, rather than feel shame or punish ourselves for not having everything together like others do (which they don’t), we need to look at these moments as the Goblin King appearing. “You have no power over me.” The moment has come, it’s gone, and we continue towards our goal in the style in which we have worked so hard to achieve and the style in which we want to become accustomed.

Punishment, self-loathing and regret only serve to propel us backwards. They tell us we don’t deserve to be a certain way or that we haven’t learned or achieved what we have. Allow them no power. The moment was simply a normal facet or outlet of a busy and goal oriented life.

Face the Goblin King, dead-on. Look him in the eye and pronounce with pride “you have no power over me.” Follow this with a reinforcement activity that is of value to you. An activity that brings you joy because it validates your higher purpose, the path you are on, or the dream you are working towards. It may be quality time with your family, working on an art piece, wearing something glamorous, writing, exercising, or any pursuit that brings you joy because it value-adds to your life. The words and the action will kill that Goblin King, before he can take hold and do any damage that may cause doubt, regret or regression. A glitch in the system is normal. Not a breakdown. Just re-boot, and all will be just fine and dandy. Remember sweet friend, no one has it together all of the time. Next time you’re at a dinner party, picture the most primped up, over perfected person there having a complete breakdown, Britney style. Guaranteed it’s not far from reality at one point or another.

Till next time, love and butterfly kisses. Wyld.