I love you so much that it hurts my head

On Friday last week something big happened to me and many other people. Something we had all been waiting eight years for. Our favourite band FINALLY released another album. When Daisy was release 8 years ago, I lay on my couch, just listening and so I thought it appropriate to do the same for Science Fiction. Finally having some new Brand New to listen to has re-ignited (not that it had ever really subsided) my love for them, I have been wearing my Brand New jumper non-stop, I’ve listening to the album five times so far and it has made me reflect on just how much this band means to me.

So how much does it mean to me? Well lets start with the name of this blog “Quietly Losing Control” which comes from the song The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows- I started this blog when I was struggling with my anxiety and homesickness while overseas and I felt it was perfect.  I plan on naming one of my children after a song of theres and I have plans to get a tattoo of Jesse Lacey.

I was late to the Brand New game, I was late to the alternative music scene in general. In high school I wasn’t as ‘scene kid’ as you would expect, I had long blonde hair, a tan, wore “normal” clothes and listened to the weekly top forty on the commercial stations. I wanted to fit in and be ‘cool’ but I wasn’t particularly comfortable that way or happy. I have said before that I finally started to ‘find’ myself when I left school, I made friends with a girl in uni who was all about Triple J and alternative music, she made me a mix CD and the rest is history. All of the friends I made immediately outside of school listened to music I had never heard of and all of these new genres opened up. I can attribute my new found love of emo/punk/alternative (whatever you want to call it) to the three people who became my closest friends straight after high school.

Most Brand New fans will say their best memories come from listening to Deja Entendu and I LOVE this album however because I came onto the scene late, The Devil and God are raging inside me (which I refer to as God and Devil and will do so for the rest of this) is the album I got to know best and has the strongest and best memories for me. Its 2006, I am 19 years old, God and Devil is released, Brand New tour Australia the following year, my friends and I drive from Rocky to Brisbane to see them. That trip holds so many special memories for me, it was like every one in the crowd was from Rocky and I remember the crowd continuously bugging them to play Seventy times seven (which they refused to do, they did play it the next time I saw them and Jesse hurt himself and had to have a little break afterwards). I remember someone yelling “Microphones are for singing not swinging” in reference to the famed Taking Back Sunday/Brand New rivalry. Paper and the Plane supported and Brand New invited them to play Degausser with them (this is my absolute favourite BN song ever) and at the end of the show (I think while playing You Wont Know but I can’t be completely sure) BN completely dismantled their stage and destroyed everything. By this time I had only been to a number of gigs and had never seen anything like this before. It was incredible! Jesse was standing on a drum, beating it with their drummer Brian and they were both just smashing drums, while everything else around them was destroyed. There were stories of Jesse sitting on the roof of the Tivoli watching the line of people coming in and someone was lucky enough to see him in Subway before the show. This trip was also very important to me as I was in a really crappy, unhappy relationship and I went with my friends and not my partner, so it was a breath of fresh air to have some freedom. It wasn’t long after that trip that I finally got the courage to leave that relationship.

Soon after this I started a new relationship and my partner went away for work, it was the first time in a long time that I had been alone and sleeping by myself proved difficult. I would listen to God and Devil when trying to fall asleep every night because it made me feel less alone and because my partner was one of the people who I went on the Brisbane trip with and BN meant even more to him, it made me feel closer to him while he was away. I would usually be falling asleep just as Luca came on and would often be drifting off just as the loud “Where you’ve been” part which would always give me a huge scare. BN came back only a few years after this first tour and by this time I was a die hard fan and knew the words to every song. I also met Brian and Vinney at a pub before this show and my boyfriend showed them the tattoo he had based on their tour poster that Paul from Kill the Music had given us.

Then it was time to wait, only three years though- remember those days BN fans? When you only had to wait three years between albums (you may detect some slight bitterness there) and I can honestly relate all BN things to life events of mine. I had a gorgeous little puppy who was killed when she got hit by a car, a month later I got another dog Daisy who is still with me now and then a month or so later Daisy the BN album came out and the cover had a little dog (it is really a fox but lets go with dog for the point of this story) on it. As I said I lay on my couch, listening to Daisy with my tiny little Daisy and knew that the universe was doing some weird but amazing shit for me. I listened to that album and tried to stifle my feelings of slight disappointment because one of the best things about BN is their progression from one album to another.  They always grow so much, from their punk beginnings on Your Favorite Weapon (which while a great album, I find a little but cute to listen to now) to their grown up, depressed vibes on God and Devil. And Daisy was just that, another progression, it was just slightly more left-field than expected. I truly do love Daisy now, it has some brilliant songs on it and I am so glad it exists. I once saw an interview with Jesse saying that Daisy was an album they needed to get out and you can feel that. It is a release of built up anger and tension.

My relationship ends, I move towns and I go on my first overseas trip as a single person, I also see BN as a single person for the first time during this trip at Coachella. I seriously spend the first part of their set holding back tears but as the set progresses and they play my old favourites, they take on new meanings. They are just for me now, they are only mine and my own memories. The break up was hard and messy and took a toll on my mental health, seeing BN that day, in that circumstance, helped to release me of that and start getting on with my life.

So here we are 16 years since their first album; Your Favoruite weapon, eleven years since my favourite album was released, ten years since I first saw them, two years since I saw them at Coachella and eight looooong years between new music and now we have Science Fiction. Lying on my couch on Saturday as day turned to night and I didn’t have any lights on, just reacting and reflecting to the songs was amazing. I didn’t feel the initial feelings of disappointment that Daisy made me feel and I genuinely enjoyed it. It doesn’t chew you up and spit you out emotionally (albeit it in a very good way) like God and Devil does, it doesn’t have the instant hits and youthful memories Deja has and its not angry and bitter like Daisy but it feels like this incredible culmination of all of that with its own personality. I have read it being referred to as an opus and I agree. It is apparently the last one and it feels like that. Jesse and the others have grown up, they’ve dealt with their demons (or are dealing with them more effectively) and they are moving on with life. It feels like the final word and if that is what it is, I feel like I have closure, I can let this be the end and be happy with that. This album has already become a very close second favourite, yes thats right, I like it as much (if not more) as Deja and this is because of its maturity and themes on this album match the themes occurring in my life. In the year that I turned thirty, theres not a whole lot going on for me at the moment, just study and work. This album didn’t really come at a life moment for me for once (I might look back on it in a few years and be able to identify one) and that feels like a parallel to whats going on with the band. The band means the world to them and will always be important but they have other things going on now too and they are getting old and settling down. At least that’s what I get from it anyway. To end, heres some BN fun facts of mine-

Ratings of albums-

  1. God and Devil
  2. Science Fiction/Deja
  3. Daisy
  4. Your Favourite Weapon

Favourite song- Degausser

Favourite song on each album- G&D; Degausser, Deja; I will play my game beneath the spin light, Daisy: Vices or At the Bottom, Fave weapon: Seventy times seven

Favourite lyric- from Degausser “I can’t shake this little feeling, I never get anything right” feels like it was written about me

I LOVE Fork and Knife and Missing you- fun fact I had a downloaded copy of the leaked tracks of G&D and this song was actually named Degausser on this leaked version.

Unpopular opinion- their song Aloc coca that everyone seems to froth- I don’t like it and find it boring when they play it at shows.

 

 

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I love you so much that it hurts my head

In this city

Today I had to pop in to the Brisbane CBD today to get my hair cut and its been a little while since I have been there and man, the feelings I get from that place! I LOVE the CBD.

I have made some incredible memories in that mall and have made some huge life decisions. As a small town kid who felt trapped in Rockhampton, the Brisbane CBD has always represented escape for me.

I came to Brisbane and went to Queen street mall for the first time when I was in grade 8 with a school trip. I remember being amazed at the size and just how many people were in one area! Over the next few years of my teenage life, I would come down for cheerleading and every time I had to go back home, I returned very sadly.

As I grew older and left high school, I started ‘finding’ myself. I was a bit alternative and like to listen to different music and wear different things to what was deemed normal in Rocky. I came to Brisbane to see Brand New and that trip is one that changed my life. I loved that people here seemed to be able to wear what they wanted and all of the Emo/goth kids hanging out at “Emo Juntion” (Hungry Jacks in the mall) made me hate my home town even more. Being different was not something that was accepted in Rocky when I was younger, I definitely feel like the town has done a little bit of growing but its not the most accepting place in the world. When I had half white and black cruella hair, I was an absolute freak show in Rocky- too much for most to handle.

When I was 20, I had been in a relationship for five years, it was emotionally abusive and toxic and yet again I felt trapped. It was all I had known and I didn’t know life didn’t have to be the way it was. I worked for Queensland Health at the time and they sent me to Brisbane for a day of training, the training finished early and I went to the mall alone. It was in Queens Street Mall I made the decision to end that relationship and the very next day I did.

Every year at least once or twice a year, I would come to Brisbane to see a band or go to a festival and it provided an escape from life. I was always so happy here in Brisbane for those few days but then I would have to go home to Rocky.

When I moved to London, I had done it, I had finally left Rockhampton but then at the end of the year and a half of being away, instead of moving to Brisbane- I had to move back to Rocky. Trapped again.

Six years after making the decisions to end one relationship, I ran away to Brisbane and ended another unhappy relationship. See the familiar pattern? Brisbane was always my escape- it was what I ran to. And finally, finally after knowing from the first time I had been to Brisbane all those years ago- I lived here.

Living here was hard to begin with, I was starting my life over. I was heartbroken and so unbelievably poor. It was a struggle that I had brought upon myself and I felt like I deserved misery and hardship but then I would drive into the valley and see the Brisbane skyline and realise it was all so worth it. This is my home, I have never felt as at home anywhere in the world as I do in this city.

Here lies my contradictory problem, Brisbane is my home but it has always been my escape and now it is my home, it is harder to escape in it. I feel trapped again at the moment, not in my relationship (it is absolutely amazing and I am very lucky!) but just in life in general. I am a true gemini at heart sometimes, never happy with what I have and constantly changing my mind. Once I have something, my brain becomes preoccupied with what it is it wants next. Destination addiction is something I have always battled- the “I will be happy when I get Blah” time mindset has plagued me for years. I want to be a travelling gyspsy but I also get anxious and homesick when I am away from home and miss my loved one. Constant contradiction and it makes life hard sometimes.

Anyways my musings don’t really have much of a point or conclusion at the moment, I am really just writing them to get them out in the hope that putting the words onto a page will make me feel better. At the moment, I am struggling a little, I want everything now and yesterday and working towards my goals is doing my head in. This doesn’t have a lesson or anything like, just a vent.

In this city

I’ve been thinking hit the highway and head up North

I read an article about Instagram making us more depressed and I some of it definitely rang true to me. Lately, on my Instagram it seems that literally everyone is on an amazing overseas holiday while I am here at home, too poor to go anywhere on account of being a uni student. So I tested this theory, is EVERYONE on my insta on holidays? Looking at the first ten posts, five of them were either of people on holidays, living somewhere overseas or just about to go on holidays. One of those ten was my traitorous little sister who I dropped at the airport at 5am on Saturday morning to head to Bali.

To say I am struggling with this is an understatement, I have slipped into a no-overseas-holiday depression. Not even just non overseas, no nothing holiday, because of uni I have neither the time nor the money to go anywhere. I recently had a week of leave where I eventually went camping because at least it was getting out of the house and going somewhere, anywhere.

I know this sounds like such a first world issue, like poor me, I can’t travel weh weh weh. And yeah, it’s not like I haven’t been anywhere, I’ve been lucky enough to travel to amazing places and spend an entire year of my life living in London. But it still hurts and I hate the word wanderlust (like reaaaallly hate it) but it truly hurts my soul and makes me depressed that I cannot go anywhere. I know there are other people who completely understand this, so don’t judge me, I am not the only one!

So to get through this I just have to remind myself that by doing this degree, I am setting myself up for the future. I used to just think I could do whatever job, so long as I was making money and just use that to travel. The periods in between each trip got too hard though, forcing myself to work in jobs that I didn’t enjoy and didn’t challenge me enough just got too hard. That feeling was worse than the feeling of being stuck at home while everyone is off doing the travel thing. I want a career in something I love, something I am actually passionate about. I always wished that I had a ‘cool job’ like friends I have who live off their art or my sister who is a paramedic and actually likes her job. I envied those people as much, if not more than the people constantly travelling. I also realised my dreams of being a roaming gyspsy were slightly unrealistic as I cannot stand to be away from home for too long and I actually get embarrassingly homesick. I had the idea that I could just happily wander from place to place but I crave connections and need the people in my life that I love.

Anyway, as I sit here in my office writing this instead of reading a textbook or starting an assignment, I don’t even know what the point of this post even is. I guess I just wanted to get some of this out in the hope that it would make me feel a bit better, to convince myself that it all ok. And it is. And I will be ok. I will just keep plodding at this degree and look towards Europe 2020.

I’ve been thinking hit the highway and head up North

Walking around on broken legs

Well just one broken leg but in sticking with the songs as blog titles thing, this is what I went with.

** This is dedicated to my moon boot buddy Bree from work who broke her ankle the night before I did and who’s had it so much worse than me ****

I have deliberated on whether or not to write this, because to be honest, I am not proud of some of my actions and the way I ended up mentally after breaking my ankle recently. The reason for this is that I ended up very depressed and I just kept thinking about the fact that there are people who have permanent disabilities, some have had these their entire lives and some end up disabled later in their lives. And there I was, with my very temporary disability, too depressed to get out of bed and being shit to my loved ones. I figured though that as some of this obviously stems from actually having mental health issues, that I take daily medication for and frankly, mental health issues or not- it was a shitty thing to happen. I think that people (including me) are entitled to feel a sorry for themselves when shit things happen. Why do we have to feel bad when we feel down? Why does guilt play such a huge role in depression and when you get down about the hand you have been dealt in life? I figured the best way to go about this was just to tell the truth and how I felt and try not to get all philosophical about disabilities as I felt that may be a little condescending. So here is the story of my experience breaking my ankle.

It happened when I was heading into the office for work on Friday the 17th March, I’d been working from home for a month and so I was really excited to go in and see all of my friends. The night before I washed my hair, shaved my legs and was ready to face the outside world. That morning I put on my uniform, passed Emily on my way out as she was coming home from nightshift and walked to the bus stop. I walked down the stairs at the bus stop like I had a million times before and thought I’d reached the bottom step- I hadn’t. My stomach dropped along with the rest of me and before I knew it my ankle had rolled and I was on the ground. Honestly, writing this is freaking me out. I replay that moment over and over in my head and it makes me feel sick every time. The night after the accident and for a little bit after I would wake up suddenly after thinking about that moment in my sleep. This was my worst nightmare, I have a legitimately fear this exact occurrence- I used to think my constant fear of rolling my ankle while walking downstairs was irrational but in that moment I knew it wasn’t. It had happened.

This was not the first time I had hurt my ankle (it is the first time its actually broken though, got to thirty before breaking a bone, not too bad I guess). This is the third time I have injured my right ankle and I have also badly sprained my left ankle. The last time I sprained my ankle was almost ten years ago when I was still cheerleading, I rolled it on a gym mat. I was at my heaviest back then though and walked with a limp for a long time. I used to use my ankle pain as an excuse to not exercise but of course I found that as I lost weight the ankle pain went away. I used to walk slowly downstairs and had a real mental thing with my ankle. I realised after I had hurt it this time that I had finally gotten over that, I no longer was careful on stairs and I had no problem exercising. I just hope I get back to that mentality quickly after this recovery.

So I have fallen and people have seen it happen (how embarrassing!!!!) I’m sitting at the bottom of the bus stop stairs, crying and trying not to vomit from how bad the pain is. I lock eyes with a girl who suggests moving to a seat and tell her I have seriously hurt myself, I am not moving. A lady asks if I should call an ambulance- I tell her my sister is an ambulance (my brain is obviously working well) and I call Em who comes and gets me. The wait between the lady leaving me (only after I convinced her it was fine to leave me) and Em coming is awful. I am crying, embarrassed and in so much pain. A few people stop to ask if I am okay- I assure them I am. It was nice to see how many people actually cared about me- thanks Buranda bus station people. Em and I decided not to go to the hospital that day because we both couldn’t be bothered waiting forever in emergency, plus we figured it was just sprained. The next day it was very swollen and very sore, I went to the Doctor, then off to radiology, confirmed it was broken and then off to ED. The kicker was that because it was a weekend, they couldn’t put me in a moon boot as they weren’t available but not to worry- they would call me through the week and I would get the cast swapped for a moon boot. In the following two weeks while I struggled with my cast, I would lament the decision to go on Saturday not Friday, i just kept think “I would be in a moon boot right now, not this awful cast.”

As I mentioned, I was then in the cast for two weeks and a half weeks. I have never had a cast before and man, was it the worst! I was pretty immobile for that time because I had crutches and they are useless! It is absolutely impossible to carry anything at all while using your crutches and if the ground is wet, forget it. I had a scary incident when I tried to go outside with Henry and Daisy and the tiles outside of my apartment building were wet, as soon as I put weight on the crutch, it slipped. What a terrible design! Everything changed- Henry had to take Daisy downstairs to the toilet because I couldn’t hold her lead and crutch at the same time, to wash my hair I had to sit down in the shower with a plastic bag I had taped around my leg. When I ate dinner I had to sit at the bench on a chair instead of the couch and sleeping was almost impossible. The worst part about sleeping is that I move my feet in my sleep and I kept waking up with awful cramps in my calf because I had moved my foot but I couldn’t get it out because it hurt too much to move my foot again. I also had this awful spasming of my tendons that would wake me up as well which again was from moving my foot. I know this sounds pretty inconsequential but when every single thing about how you do day to day tasks changes, its rough. It was also my right foot so I couldn’t drive and I felt pretty trapped inside my house.

It is scary how quickly my mental health slipped, I was starting to feel pretty down even by the end of that first week. It was hard to look after myself and I seriously resented Henry and Emily for being able to go to work and for leaving me. I was lonely, sore and tired. I also don’t think it helps that I wasn’t taking my anti-depressants (I know, I know but I ran out and I couldn’t easily go get them and just kept forgetting as silly as that sounds). By the end of week two I was barely getting out of bed, I just didn’t see the point. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone and didn’t feel like going anywhere even if that had’ve been an option. I was awful to be around, I was angry, resentful and tired. I remember getting ready for something and getting so frustrated I hit the wall in anger- that is absolutely something I would normally do. I snapped at Emily and Henry and treated them like crap even though they were helping me. I still hadn’t heard from the fracture clinic to get my moon boot. I called and called and it just rang out, adding to my frustration. When I finally got through, the lady told me I didn’t have an appointment until the 13th April. I cried after I got off the phone, that was still two weeks away.

On the Monday of the third week, I was at my absolute lowest, I was home alone, had slept until 2pm and was sitting in the kitchen trying to will myself to cook food. I had been mean to my poor boyfriend and started a fight even though he had been amazing and looked after me. Instead of making food, I just sat and cried. Then I remembered
I had gotten two phone calls that morning from the same number- I checked the message and it was the fracture clinic. I could go in and get a moon boot and I made an appointment for Wednesday.

Henry took me to the clinic on the Wednesday, I was given my moon boot and that afternoon we went to New Farm park and I went for a slow but very happy stroll along the riverbank. Everything has looked up from there! I got rid of my crutches just after Easter and now I am only using my moon boot when I walk outside. In my apartment I don’t need it. I started Physio which is helping so much and I have almost normal movement in it again.

One of the biggest things I was scared of was gaining weight, I was absolute terrified of it. In the past, I would have just gone back to terrible eating and no exercise at all but this time I forced myself to hobble straight back into the gym. Obviously the exercises have had to change a bit, no legs, only arms and back and no cardio. To begin with Henry and to carry everything for me and set me up at each machine and I had to modify anything that required me to stand up. The moon boot meant me being able to carry my own stuff and stand up properly and then last week- I started cycling on the bike again. I am looking forward to the day when I can deadlift and squat again and it annoys me that I will have to start all over again with being the weights back up. But at the end of the day, I know I am lucky. I get to actually be able to do those things again and I know there are people that never will. Damn, I broke my promise to not get philosophical!

So theres my story, that’s how I felt and what happened to my brain when my normal life was interrupted. I am not one hundred percent proud of my actions but there really wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. I was lucky to be able to recognise that I was depressed and knew it was just because of my ankle and even though there was the old dark cloud fogging everything, I knew I just had to push through and it would get better. Depression is a bitch and it can really make you feel pretty hopeless and please, please if you are in the black fog and don’t feel you have a way out- know I am always here and there really is a way out.

 

 

Walking around on broken legs

Whole Lotta Rosie

I have legitimately been trying to lose weight since I finished high school, it started when I saw my formal photos and the image of myself in my head didn’t match what I was seeing. I have always been overweight, I was really tall in primary school and always a little bigger than everyone else. I remember as a six year old starting dancing and having to wear a leotard and I was thankful I wore a green sash around my tummy as I felt like that distracted the lack of flatness. I always wore a ‘special’ costume that was different to everyone else’s because most costumes showed tummy and I was very self conscience of mine. The thing is though as a teenager, I thought I was fat when I was wearing size 12 and 14 when all of my friends were in 8s and 10s, my best friends were always the tiniest little things but boy did I have a surprise coming. You know that meme that says “man I wish I was the size now that I was when I first thought I was fat” that’s exactly how I feel.

I had always been an eater- as a child I remember convincing my Grandma to let me have four pieces of toast lathered with butter but the rapid weight gain started when I started dating a boy.  I would go and stay at his place for the weekend, there was never food in my house because we were pretty poor but when I went to his there was just so much food! I remember us making a cup of tea and finishing a packet of Milk Arrowroot biscuits together. He used to make me sausages for lunch- like eight of them and we used to regularly drink this milk shake thing that was milk, milo, chocolate ice cream and these chocolate flakes on top. Not only were we eating so much, we were also not doing any activity. We would go to the video shop- hire a number of movies and watch them for the entire weekend. There were meals between meals of chips from the fish and chip store, every Monday at dancing I would get chicken and chips and then eat dinner at home afterwards. My sister and I were very busy with lots of extra curricular things and during eisteddfod time we would be a McDonald’s pretty much every night. Life was just so busy so there wasn’t time for home cooked meals. I distinctly remember going to put on my size fourteen skirts that had fit me just the week before and not being able to get them past my thighs. I was a bit concerned but I had no idea just how serious the situation was.

There are mental things that go along with this as well, I was a very depressed teenager and I have on and off been a very depressed adult. Eating has always helped with that but I know the old “I eat because I am fat but I am fat because I eat” cycle very well. The eating with my teenage boyfriend brought me happiness, my home life was pretty rough with an abusive and very mentally unwell father so I escaped home, hung out with my boyfriend, ate and temporarily wasn’t depressed. There was also the constant hounding from my father about the fact that I was fat- note to fathers: telling your children they are fat, will NOT help them lose weight, especially when you’re not doing anything to promote healthy eating or family activity. Also when your daughter says “You’re lucky I don’t have an eating disorder” and you reply with “Not much chance of that.” or say things like “I am surprised someone your size feels the cold so much.” Also doesn’t help. But enough of that shit.

So 17 year old Caitlin gets her formal photos back, they don’t quite look the way she expected. I just couldn’t believe it!! Why had no one sat me down and really explained how much I had gained??? It wasn’t their fault though, I would never have believed it. So I finally weighed myself- I weighed 98 kilograms at seventeen years old!! My mum and I then tried on and off and fairly unsuccessfully to lose weight but back then there wasn’t the wealth of info there is these days. I lost a bit but nothing to write home about.

The next major turning point came again from seeing photos, this time from my 21st. I didn’t look twenty-one, I looked like a large 35 year old. This time I swore I would fix it. I was living out of home by then but mum and I joined weight watchers and I had finally started to cook for myself. I had some awesome success with weight watchers, I lost 15 kilos and it is great as a starting point. It taught us a lot of stuff we didn’t know like portion control and how to substitute food. To be honest though- since learning more and getting into gym and fitness more than ever, I just found that I didn’t agree with some of the things they do- this is absolutely not me saying weight watchers is bad because it absolutely is not, I just felt like it wasn’t the right fit for me and my goals anymore.

So I lost 15 kilos, bought a pair of size fourteen skinny jeans and was the skinniest I have ever been but then I moved to London and went travelling. Now I absolutely do not regret a single calorie I put on overseas- it was all so worth it. I had this attitude of “I am only here once and I am on holiday” even though this ‘holiday’ was a year long but I ate and drank everything I wanted to. I came home 8 kilos heavier. Not too bad considering I had a friend who was there for two years and put on twenty kilos.  I came home, lost most of that again and then I broke up with my boyfriend of six years.

I moved cities, I changed jobs, I started to enjoy my life in Brisbane and once I started making money, I loved going out and eating and drinking.Then I got a breast reduction and had a terrible recovery. And then I went to America for two months, met a boy and finally went back to the gym for the first time in a bout a year and a half and I was back to 95 kilos- nearly my heaviest.

That brings me to now, I can definitely attribute getting back into gym to my now partner. He has lost an incredible 20kgs and loves body building and I knew I couldn’t just sit at home being fat and lazy while he went out and gymmed. I know that even though he first met me at my near heaviest and still liked me, I want to feel better about myself and try again. Every other time I have lost weight I have done it just by doing cardio and gym was such a chore that I did not enjoy. This time though, my partner has shown me how to lift weights and I love it so much more. Sure I am not losing weight as quickly as I have in the past but I really like it.

I recently hit a snag when I broke my ankle, it came at the worst time, just when I was finally starting to make progress but this time I did something different that I didn’t do in the past. I kept going- I didn’t let the setback or change to circumstances undo all my hard work. Even at the end of last year after finally doing really well and losing about 6kgs, I got distracted by the stress of studying and by the time christmas was over I had gained it all back. This time however, I tried as hard as I possibly could to eat as well as possible and I didn’t stop going to the gym. I broke my ankle on a Friday and on the Sunday I crutched my way into a thankfully empty gym and did a shoulder work out. The next day I went when it was busy and I was so worried people would think I was an idiot but the trainers were so supportive and other members were supportive as well, one guy even said I was the most dedicated person there (I am not sure that’s true though). Now my ankle is getting better and I am able to slowly use the exercise bike and this week I did my first cardio since the injury a month ago. I don’t have much of an idea how I am going weight wise and I don’t think I have lost anything but the upper body stuff I had to stick to has definitely provided some results and I don’t feel like I have gained any weight. This year for my birthday I am going to wear a strapless dress- something I don’t think I have ever done. I am legitimately proud of myself for not letting this set back make me have to start again and I think this shows I am well on my way to this being how I live my life. I think that this shows how committed I am to being the healthiest I possibly can. My goal is to be a powerlifter but I want to be a small one so I am wanting to lose about 20kg first.

So that’s my incredibly long winded (and perhaps a little heavy in subject matter at times) struggle with weight loss, if you have made it reading this far- good work, I hope you enjoyed it. This gives a little insight into why when I see people who lose weight quickly and seemingly easily and who think they have found the magic recipe to weight loss, while I am genuinely happy for them there is a part of me that also hurts and sometimes gets frustrated. I have cried about my weight and weight loss more times than I can count and I know I shouldn’t compare my success to that of others but I do, and it makes me think “Why not me, why am I not good enough?” But it will be me and one day I won’t even gain it all back and I will just be healthy and happy for life.

Whole Lotta Rosie

I’d be safe and warm, if I was in LA

Today I woke up feeling a bit down, I think working from home and the lack of human interaction is getting to be a little bit. My life is literally wake up, study, work, gym and that’s about it. I need to start getting out of the house but every minute spent away from the readings and essays of uni work is a minute filled with guilt. This is the lament of a student.

When I feel like this my brain starts to miss specific places and the need to go somewhere intensifies. Today it has chosen Los Angeles which it chooses quite often to be honest. Sometime it will be London,this was especially so in the year after I moved back from London. That was a difficult year, the grieving process I went through was terrible. I know this sounds dramatic and a little first world problem-ish but I know a lot of other people experience this. My least favourite word is wanderlust because its been turned into one of those things that people who have been on one Contiki, once and think they are super traveled and cultured, get tattooed on them.  However, the actual definition “a strong desire to travel” is exactly how I feel. That actually down plays it a little- its not just a strong desire; its a yearning, its deep inside of me and it makes me depressed when it can’t happen.

Waking up today (I cant say this morning because I woke up at about 11am,
I have been doing that a lot lately, its not helping my mental health) all could think of was Los Angeles, that crazy city has a piece of my heart that I am happy for it to keep. LA is not typically the city in America that steals peoples hearts, most would feel this way about New York and it is understandable why. While I loved New York, it just felt like somewhere I was visiting, LA feels like home. I would give anything to be navigating my way through the crazies on Hollywood Boulevard with the hot sun shining on me while a cool breeze blows. I will never forget how that breeze feels  while sitting drinking a cider, watching the world go by.

My first time in LA was in 2013 and it was on the fateful trip that was essentially the catalyst to big changes in my life- came home, ended my six year relationship, moved cities and spent the next two years alone and focusing on myself. What I didn’t realise at the time that I was in a really bad place mentally, I knew I didn’t like my life but I wasn’t completely sure why or what to do about it. Looking back, I realise I was unhappy in my relationship and hated my job and I was so sick of living a life to please every body else at the detriment of my happiness. I didn’t want to be a home own living in the small town I grew up in and have babies in the near future. I wanted more, I wanted to see more of the world and just do things my way. I wanted to actually work in a career I liked and not want to cry every morning.

The first time I went to LA I was only there for one night before making our way to Las Vegas. That night we met a  couple of really great guys who we had an accidental huge night with and talking to them was so interesting. The thing that struck me about people in LA is that no one has a proper job or if they do, they are working towards something else. Everyone says they are “something but they work at somewhere” like “I am an actress  but I work in a coffee shop at the moment.” One of the guys we met was a fashion designer who said he had been to Katy Perry’s birthday party and had a beef with Kid Cuddi. I was talking with him, explaining what I did for a job and that working nine to five is pretty standard in Australia was pretty standard and he said “I just don’ know how people go to jobs everyday that they hate.” That will always stay with me because at that time I so desperately desired to do something meaningful that I loved. At the time, I was lead to believe that doing that was not viable, that I would not succeed and it would be a waste of time.

I went back to LA in 2015 after all of the big life changes had happened and I genuinely thought I was better mentally, I thought I was happier but that trip was the two months in America during which I was very anxious and homesick. This time I was in LA for four days and then another five after Coachella and getting to see more of the city just cemented that I could live there. There are just so many things to be seen and so many opportunities to delve right into whichever scene it is you’re into. LA is often called fake and plastic because of the celebrities that call it home but on the ground level, the regular people you meet are the furtherest from fake. They are 100 hundred percent themselves, sometimes to the slight detriment of their sanity. Hollywood isn’t called Hollyweird for nothing. My first night in LA, at a bar on H’wood Blvd (look how local I am being) I saw at least three girls with live snakes in their hair and watched my friend be lifted like a barbell by a strange man who called himself “Mr Muscles.” While it did eventually get to me that I couldn’t walk down the street without being spoken to or yelled at by someone (not the best of someone with anxiety who isn’t great with strangers) one of my friends hit it on the head today when she said that maybe we like it so much because we are weird too. I feel like LA is full of my people.

I have so many stories I could tell about LA and the people and sites I witnessed- like the poor homeless man on the bus from Santa Monica back to Hollywood who was wanting to be dropped off in Beverly Hills but struggled to stay awake and was sleeping in the most body contorting positions, or the man who got on the same bus and loudly asked the man next to him if he would be interested in doing some weed testing for money. Or when my travel partner and I naively spent a few hours in a Walmart shopping for Coachella supplies until I realised there were some young guys who may have been gang members watching us and upon googling later, we realised we were in Torrence which is apparently a very rough area. Or when we took a Hollywood bus tour where our tour guide was a really bad Jackie Chan impersonator until the bus broke down and people yelled at Jackie demanding money back. Or when we went to an open mic night and I made a cute musician take me home but that is absolutely enough of that story. However, this post is already pretty long and I think I could tell those stories separately when I eventually feel like it.

On my last night in LA, I geared myself up to get a tattoo but by the time I made it down there the shops were all closed. I was going to get a tattoo of a palm tree- I know, cliche right? Right now, if I didn’t have about $100 to my name, I would make a booking and go get that palm tree done.I know LA has been orchestral in the changes I have made in life, the want to do something I love and follow my dreams and here I am working in social media, studying and trying to get into writing for a job. So while life is definitely on the track to how I want it, today I am definitely California Dreaming (good one right?)

I’d be safe and warm, if I was in LA

Its been awhile

Well its been nearly two years since I last posted and since the link to this blog now in my website and more people may be reading this, I realised I needed to update on my life.

So why have I been gone for so long? well life, life got in the way. One of the biggest reasons I haven’t been around is- Ive been happy, really, really happy. The anxiety that plagued me for so long has not stopped completely and I know it never will, but it is so much better and I have been able to live my life. A contributing factor to this happiness is I now have a new partner. I was seeing him when I posted last and things were a little rocky with him but I found my worth and put the hard word on him and now we are grossly in love and have an incredible life together.

Other than being grossly in love (vomit), I also started studying. I decided that I was sick of doing jobs that I liked initially but eventually left me feeling bored and under stimulated. Every time I started to dislike a job, I would think of doing Media and communication so with the support of my partner I took the plunge and enrolled. I started in July last year and thought I could handle working four days a week. How wrong I was! I absolutely could not handle working that much and trying to do uni, I got good marks but I have never been so stressed and tired in my life.

So that essentially brings me to now- I am heading back to uni and through a creative writing course I did last term, I realised writing is something I am passionate about and that maybe I would want to get paid for. I have been lucky enough to score an awesome job working in the Social Media department for Flight Centre but it is part time so I will have time to do both uni and also some personal writing. I plan to keep this page updated now and be writing as often as possible.

Oh and just a note incase you decide to head back into the previous blog posts- those were written at a pretty dark time of life and they reflect the struggle mentally I was going through. To be honest, they embarrass me a little only because they are so raw and I am not used to be so honest with exactly how I am feeling. I am proud of them though and will not edit or delete them because thats a part of me and those thoughts and feelings are valid, they aren’t reflective of who I am at the moment but they are important.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

Its been awhile