I am loved


I blubbed AGAIN yesterday, as I spent countless more hours clearing out the freaking attic. Just when I think I’ve broken the back of it, I discover another cache of shite.

No, not shite. Beautiful things. More letters and cards and photos and postcards and messages.

The tears weren’t about the mess – though that’s worth a weep – they were about the discoveries.

So much love for me. And I never really trusted in it.

The bloody ridiculous thing about being an over-analyser is that you spend your whole life questioning yourself and other people when you should just relax and believe that you’re worthy of people caring about you.

I look at all those paper memories and my heart just explodes at how much I’ve meant to people and how much they’ve meant to me.

And I wonder how I got to be such a such a suspicious, repressed 46-year-old (with an at-odds penchant for over-sharing on social media – my beloved hairdresser has suggested I might want to revisit my psychologist about that).

So many precious years not lived to the full.

I think that’s finally changing now, thank heavens. I feel a bit like Daenerys with her dragon eggs (Game of Thrones, for the uninitiated, sadly I don’t LOOK like her … girl crush), emerging from the ashes of her husband’s pyre, a new world at her feet.

I just need to find a balance between exploding with words and thoughts and feelings every single moment of the day and allowing other people join me in the conversation and the journey.

Love, trust and listen.

PS The photograph above is an attic discovery. It’s me and my sis on Fairstar The Funship. We met those VERY cute boys on the first day and stuck to them – and their duty free liquor – like glue. One of them, Fred, was mad hot for my sister (no wonder, LOOK at her, gorgeous!). But she wasn’t keen. So I think he finally settled for a snog with me when we got back to Sydney.

PPS I still have the dress! I wore it about 8 years ago to a function, after being extensively spray-tanned. I found it in the attic over the weekend. Wonder if I’d be game to wear it again?

PPSS Another reason to weep: I’m child-free this week while the kids are off skiing, and I’m going to spend it PACKING. What a bloody waste!

Song of the day: Queen “You’re my best friend”



7 thoughts on “I am loved

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  1. Isn’t it lovely to find all those memories? I am currently packing for another overseas move and it’s taking forever as I trawl through photos, letters and cards in between trips to the cheap shops to buy more sturdy plastic boxes. (Who knew I’d need so many?)
    One positive for you- at least you’ll get it done without interruption, and hopefully with a glass of wine!
    PS. Do you have a house yet? Fingers crossed it all goes well

  2. Ah, the paper memories. It’s wonderful to get lost in a world of reminiscing. I too have so many letters and cards. They’re all in shoeboxes. I tell myself, “I’ll put them in a scrapbook!” it never happens. But there’s nothing like reading all those things again to put things in perspective and yes, remind you of how much you’ve meant to people over the years. Good luck with the culling/sorting/packing/moving!

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