One of those moments

It’s 5.09pm and I got home from work over half an hour ago. I spent most of the time since I drove in the driveway sitting in my car and lying on my bed with my cat. That might not seem like anything particularly special, but for those who know Charlie the cat it’s a pretty big deal.

Charlie doesn’t sleep on beds. Ever. And he freaks out when I put him on them. But today, a day where I don’t particularly want to face the world, Charlie cat let me not only put him on the bed, but lie down and have a nap beside him. He’s currently still curled up in a bun like formation while I type away at my desk.

Some days are hard. Your guess is as good as mine as to why. But this week my new life has begun to really sink in. The kind of sink where you slowly slip into a lukewarm pool and can’t quite tell if you’re 100 per cent happy about it, but you’re still glad to be there.

I’ve gone from a very body confident, reliable decision maker to a constantly uncertain, emotionally reserved and body conscious individual. I’m not sure how I got from there to here. There’s plenty of good changes too. I think. I can’t list them right now, but they are there. I know how to stand my ground and to be confident in what I do for work. That’s something.

This might sound weird, but a year ago I was a ‘go to person’ one of those people you have in your life for when it gets tough. The person you turn to to talk about anything. The person you need at the end of a rough day…someone who just sort of fixes things.

Somewhere along the road I became allergic to drama, to emotions, to anything that even remotely resembles someone needing me.

And I have no idea why.

At some point I just kind of stopped giving a shit.

And people stopped needing, they stopped talking, and they too stopped caring.

I think when big changes occur in someones life and when they go through challenging times, it’s easy to forget healing takes a long time. A really, really long time.

And people who weren’t there through it don’t realise how patient they need to be. But the people who were there through it often aren’t there any longer.

Someone can look fine but in reality they’re still struggling, they’re still broken, and they’re still healing.

I think the number one relationship killer ,whether it be friendship or romantic, is complacency and lack of respect.

I don’t mean respect in the term you might be picturing it in. I mean it in the way of listening to ideas and advice, listening to that persons way of viewing the world…and caring about it. By complacency I mean people stop caring about the answer to ‘how was your day’ they stop wanting that person to be happy, they stop wanting that person to smile. People just start to go about their own lives forgetting to ask and care: “how are you really doing?”

It’s amazing how easily and how quickly it happens.

And I’m terrified of it.

I’m also exhausted.

Maybe because for me part of my healing process means it takes a lot of energy to be open, to love, to care, to let people in. I don’t know if that ever gets easier, but I keep on trying hoping it eventually will.

This week I’ve started to appreciate my city and the morning drive to work. I’ve tried hard to walk around town more at lunch time, to come up with new places to take my horse; to genuinely live here.

But man, it is not easy. I still miss Hamilton. I miss the people. But I am starting to live here and in all honesty, I’ve made some incredible friends here so far I’d be sad to leave if I ever moved back. This is home. And it’s starting to feel like that.

But it doesn’t mean it’s not hard. I think after any period, long or short, of hardship it takes years to adjust again. This is probably the most time I’ve spent alone or even wanted to spend alone in nearly a year.

I’ve spent a year hiding.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve slowly addressed things as I felt I was capable. I’ve tried my best to counsel and work my way through the hurt bits and the crappy bits and ‘fix’ myself. But up until this point I’ve needed people. I’ve needed to see and be around people to remind myself it’s ok.

And now, I think I’m slowly learning how to be ok alone again and how to cope with myself.

I have a thyroid scan in a weeks time. I’m both nervous and excited. I want to know where it’s at. Has the nodule grown? Will I have to have a life changing operation? Will I not? I play it down but it plays on my mind almost constantly. And that’s just the reality of it.

I think somedays, I just want to feel unconditionally loved, and I want to unconditionally love myself too. I want that love for myself. I want to be in that space again where I don’t question if I’m a hard person to love, where I don’t feel like I’m still a bit broken, where I just feel like a whole human. A few weeks back I wrote a post about how I finally felt like I was no longer recovering. And I feel like that most of the time now.

But with any recovery there are set backs.

And this is just one of those moments.

This blog got a lot more real than I was anticipating. I think Sam ought to bring my red wine to me and I will lie on my bed with Charlie cat and watch crappy soaps.

Till next time x



“Never settle,” I couldn’t help but agree

“Why didn’t you want to be with me?”

I waited patiently for the answer. I’d wanted the answer long before now but something had always stopped me from asking the question. What is it I always say? Don’t ask a question you don’t want an answer to. The answer I wanted was a straight forward one, a simple ‘you should have done this but you didn’t and I couldn’t deal with that’. I knew I wasn’t going to get that. I knew, deep down, this was nothing I could fix.

So I asked the question, twice.

“Why didn’t it work out?”

“Honestly, I didn’t want to grow up. I didn’t want to settle down.” He went on. “A good friend said to me once, never be too quick to settle.”

I agreed with him.

Never settle.

“That’s not the answer you wanted was it?” He asked me.

“No,” I said.

I took a breath. It was nothing I could have changed. Nothing. It wasn’t on me. But does that make it better? Does having the honest answer actually make it better? To be left because someone simply does not want to wake up everyday and know you’re theirs? Because their sense of freedom is more important than your love and your friendship?

Yes. Yes it does make it better.

Because while I like to analyse and think deeply about how to ‘fix’ everything and everyone…there are times, like this one, where I have to accept that something simply was not meant to be.

“I think,” I began, “There were a lot of areas of our personalities that we clashed in.”

“Yeah, you would always say you were alright when you weren’t.” He said it in such a way that each word could have been missed, but I caught them, and they hit, hard.

I don’t do that with Sam. Sam sees everything. I worry he’s sick of me opening up too much, too often.

“Are you seeing anyone?” I asked the question before I had a chance to wonder if I wanted the answer…or what answer I’d have preferred.

“Yes, kind of.”

I paused for a brief second before launching into questions; who was she, what did she look like, what was her name, what did she do? What about her made him want to be with her.

And then he told me about her. And she sounds perfect for him, really perfect. I stopped, the sun was quite bright and I was sweating a little because I was trying to figure out if I felt nothing because I was in shock or if I simply wasn’t bothered by it.

Then with the weight of the words ‘settle’, with the realization I could never open up, and the sudden moment of happiness I felt when I knew he’d found someone…I smiled.

Because I knew, I’ve known for a while, for sure, that I had moved on. And I never thought I would. I never thought I would put those broken pieces back in a far more glorious way and be better off because of it. In the tears, the moments of panic, of pain, of regret, of hurt and sadness, of bitterness and resentment, of loss and anger I never thought I would be so okay.

The other day I was chatting to friend during a conversation and mentioned that selling Ivy might be something I have to consider at some point if I want to move around a lot. Sam immediately jumped in with a “no”.

Ivy means the world to me. She’s been my constant rock in the midst of some chaotic times and I couldn’t imagine life without her in it. Sam hasn’t seen that. I’ve ridden her less than a handful of times since I met him and I rarely speak about her. It’s not that I don’t care anymore, it’s just had to take a backseat focus. Yet somehow, he just knew selling her would be a bad idea.

I think that’s when you know. When you don’t have to say a word and they know. When you don’t have to convince someone of something, they know. When you can be yourself every second, every moment, and it’s okay. I can be more of myself than I’ve ever been able to be with one person.

Never settle. I agree with that.

Never settle for someone who doesn’t do everything in their power to love you, to nurture you, to help you grow, to see you smile.

I have stopped looking for another someone. But I will definitely not be settling.

I will not be settling for someone and I will not be settling down with someone. But I will most certainly share my life with someone who makes it more of a life because they’re part of it.

Alright, cute overload over. But I thought it was appropriate to have a sort of ‘final’ blog for the end of the relationship saga.

Now you’ll all just have to put up with me whinging about how my cup of tea always gets cold too quickly and the paper scanner at work hates me and how I can’t be bothered going to the gym this week so I’m giving myself a week off just cause.

The just cause is so I can ride Ivy, so I can make dinner for my family and for Sam, so I can spend a bit of time with my sister. I have goals, but at the same time, there is definitely an art to perfecting when you have to give and when you have to go for it. It’s all about balance.

On that note! Cheerio for now!

#atleastIhavemywine #Ishouldprobablybloglessaboutwine #andstopusinghashtags

Ok so I know I’ve been really slack with my blog posting…but there is a reason. I think. Well, it’s an excuse. Despite what it may seem like (while you’re all sitting there cringing while reading about my life) I’m really crappy at talking about how I feel. I’m quite good at getting other people to talk about how they do, and I’m good at talking enough about mine to cover up the fact I’m not really saying or admitting anything. To be fair, it was something I’d never really noticed before I met Sam. I knew I liked to keep stuff to myself, but I never realised how MUCH stuff I liked to keep to myself.

Pretty much the more I like someone, the less I can tell them. AND IT’S REALLY DRIVING ME NUTS. And preventing me from blogging honestly, which really then means blogging at all is pointless.

(I’ve decided to capitalize random things in this post…and also put random editing notes in brackets through it to stop me from editing the actual content)

After a breakup I tend to reflect on all the things I could have done better. I don’t mean I sit there blaming myself, I just like to improve on things. I don’t think anyone is ever a complete person; we’re always growing. So it makes sense to use every opportunity to improve things when you can.

So I know this is something I REALLY need to work on. Up until this point I’ve been drawn to people who like to open up quickly and easily. I often find people who are in need of someone to talk to; someone to trust. I think, because it makes it easier to hide behind how they feel and what they say… essentially it means I never have to ACTUALLY admit what I feel, we can just keep the focus on them until I slip under the radar and people forget to ask. It’s rather unhealthy. But it’s been my safety net, and I think it’s why I never completely fall in love. I never let my walls down completely. It’s a personality thing.

Now I’m in this part of my life where I am growing up and if I want the kind of relationships that come with that; ones that will last and are built on decent foundations, I’m going to have to get over it and learn how to be a grown up with how I process feelings.

I don’t mind if people keep some things to themselves, I don’t get upset about someone’s feelings not matching mine, I don’t get clingy or jealous easily… but that also comes obviously with negatives too, and that is the inability to completely fall for someone or let my guard down. I filter everything I say. It’s a good and a bad thing. I’ve always needed to filter who I am for people to be ok with me.

And I’m not keen to keep living like that.

So I grew some balls and had a decent chat to Sam last night and I’m really glad I did. Because I’m learning, it’s baby steps, but I’m learning to stop holding on for dear life to the cliff top and just enjoy the fall. I think everyone needs to learn how to do that at some point in their life.

I’d never really even done that with myself or with my life until I went travelling.

While watching the sunrise over Angkor Wat, while standing on the top of a mountain in the Austrian Alps, while walking along the lantern lit river in Hoi An at night, I learnt to fall in love with life and appreciate it for all it’s quirks and charms and ups and downs.

While I was crying in my hotel room in Africa because I was struggling to process how different my life was from people there, while I spent two weeks talking to no one in Austria, while I navigated a hospital alone, as I figured out how to walk the streets of Cambodia and catch a tuktuk on my own, when I trusted strangers, while I sat on the pavement in Vietnam eating local food…I learnt to love who I was with no filter.

(I also learnt I have a problem with how much I love coffee and red wine)

I realised who I was; an incredible person, a resilient person, someone who cared deeply about the world, someone who could do incredible things, someone who was not limited by others. But I also realised, the more I learnt to love myself, just how little I let other people love me…who I really am.

The person I am at 2am when I’m still awake worrying about the next day, when I’m jumping up and down with excitement over the stupidest things, when I’m in my ‘bliss zone’ grocery shopping, while I ignore them as I write another book that I’ll probably never finish, when I’m doing the hobbies I love, the way I look at the sunset or the sunrise, the strange thoughts that float around my mind on a long car ride, the big and wild dreams I decide I’m going to embark on because why the hell not? I’m a why not person. I live my life taking on everything unless you can give me a bloody good reason not to. It means I do some really stupid things sometimes, but it also means I go and will go incredible places and do big things. I want that for my life. Even if they’re little big things. I want life to be bigger and unlimited by what I might be afraid of. And ultimately I want someone beside me who feels the same way, who wants to push me to do that, who does not ‘tolerate’ my personality but rather brings the positives and helps me overcome the negatives. I need someone to constantly challenge me to be a better person, but feel safe enough that they’re going to love me even when I’m a really crappy person.

(And when I listen to the same song on repeat 6 million times before I get sick of it.)

I’m happy alone, I just have to learn now how to not only be happy alone but with someone and realise it’s not a bad thing to love people. It’s not a bad thing to fall in love.

It’s ok to be out of control and just see what happens.

Ok so I think my problem with my inability to write blogs comes from this new thing I’ve started doing called ‘editing’. Did any of you realise how much pointless crap I waffle on about on here? I’m sure one day my children will discover the dark archives of my blog and will forever use it as a valid defense in any argument.

*cries into glass of wine and remembers once again why reproducing might be a bad idea*

Anyway! Pretty much what I’m trying to say… is I’m bloody brilliant and I’m fantastically happy and life is moving in this slightly dream like direction… sometimes I’m not quite sure how to handle that because it’s been a little while since I’ve felt this satisfied. Actually, I don’t think I’ve felt quite like this about my life before.

(I’m a perfectionist and I’m not good at this ‘accepting my flaws and realising life can be perfect without being perfect’ thing)

It’s baby steps, I’m learning lots of stuff. I’m enjoying sunsets and sunrises. I have an amazing person by my side and I’m going to miss my bestie like crazy when she moves soon, and I’ll probably cry, but I’m also so damn glad life is moving on for us all in the best possible way.

And it’s Friday.

And I’m visiting a friend tonight and we’re going to have a night out!

Both of those things make me incredibly happy.



Roses are red…

I went swimming in the sea yesterday. It was a little bit funny because I spent most of the time being bowled over by the waves and flailing around trying to not drown. I’d swim under one wave and stand up to do that whole ‘flick my hair back while looking hot thing’… and instead was taken out like a skinny rugby player who didn’t run fast enough with the ball by the next wave.

I gave up and just flopped around like a whale. I then lay on the beach to sunbath, trying my best to look like a babe, and managed to be eaten alive by biting insects and now I look like I have some sort of contagious disease. Happy valentines day from the world!

I regularly try to explain to people how I don’t really do ‘perfect’ or ‘cute’ or ‘romantic’. It’s not because I don’t like it, it’s just that I’ve accepted my life is not a romantic drama, it’s more a romantic comedy, and I’ve learnt to laugh about it.

I probably laugh too much. I was chatting to one of my best friends yesterday before I went to church, dragging the guy I actually like (you can all be as shocked as I was) along for the first time. She said to me “Stop worrying, it’ll be fine, so far everything else has been perfect.” I looked at her, dead in the eye, with a very straight face, and said “That is EXACTLY why I’m worried”.

Perfect and me don’t go together.

So anyway, went to church, it could have gone much worse, I keep telling myself that… I also laughed out loud on a number of occasions because it was by far the most ‘out there’ service I’ve ever been to there. Sigh.

But here’s the REALLY weird part of the day… I came home and went to my room to find a dozen roses on my bed. We then went to the beach and swam and lay sunbathed, then finished off the evening with a lovely dinner eating some of my favourite foods.

Gosh darn it, it was so damn perfect it made me want to cry.

I wish I was one of these people who could stop and appreciate how lucky I am, and how incredible my life has been. But I’m not.

I’m the kind of person who has enough doubt and fear I’d never have to work another day in my life if I could translate it into money. I’ve had a life of many blessings but I’ve also had many hurts and many failures.

And I sadly let it control how I look at life now. I’m working on that. It’s just a slow progression from ‘fearful and doubtful’ to ‘certain and secure’.

People often seem a little taken back when I admit I’m genuinely afraid and certain everything will end terribly.

I’m not sure why that comes as a surprise. It’s very simple. It’s the same reason you don’t want to touch an electric fence, or why you don’t put your hand on a hot element, or why you always let a hot cup of tea sit before you take a drink: you know damn well it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt, so you don’t do it. And sometimes you forget and get distracted and you sip that hot cup of tea too soon or you grab the electric fence before turning it off…but it doesn’t change the outcome.

While I’m well and truly aware being loved and loving someone is not exactly the same, it’s the same principal behind why I’m afraid. If it hurts every time you do it, you’re going to stop wanting to do it.

But I’m starting to look at it another way. When I was teaching kids to horse ride they’d often fall off. It was sometimes a little bit funny, because it’s in that moment you know if they’re going to make it as a horse rider. If they can fall off, get back up, dust themselves off, and get back on…they’re going to be able to be a great horse rider. If they lie on the ground bawling their eyes out and not wanting to get back on, well they’re probably not going to go far. Because you can’t be afraid of the fall if you’re going to push yourself to heights humans probably shouldn’t go with a 500kg animal.

I’ve fallen off my horse so many times I’ve genuinely lost count, it would be well into the 100’s. I’ve spent hours at the physio, at the chiropractor, and I’ve had lesson after lesson after lesson. Yet I keep getting back on that horse.

Because I know a horse will do unexpected things; it will spook stationary objects, it will decide it doesn’t feel like jumping that jump for no particular reason, it will decide it wants to gallop around the paddock for hours before it lets you catch it, it will buck you off because it didn’t feel like working… you get the picture.

And time and time again I forgive it, I find ways to improve the situations, and I work on it until we’re enjoying it. I also sometimes give up and sell the damn thing because I just can’t be bothered with the crap anymore.

People aren’t much different. People do unexpected things. And sometimes you just have to accept it has nothing to do with you as a person, and find ways to fix the problem and work on it.

Unfortunately I can’t sell people, that’s illegal, so I have to just walk away when I’ve had enough and there isn’t anything else I can do.

It’s not about me. It’s not personal. It’s just about saying ‘ok, I know there are things I need to work on, and it’s time to find someone I work better with’. But just like I’ve found my one horse I love to pieces and am willing to put up with the little bits of crap because all the other times are incredible, I will eventually find my person I love to pieces and am willing to endure life with…good and bad. And if I don’t I’ll just collect horses and cats and dogs and have my cute little cottage on a cliff top all to myself.

Lately I’ve found a pretty awesome human. And I like him.

I also freaked out and shut down a little last night because everything was so damn perfect. But I’ll come right. Eventually I’ll be able to human normally around him. Or just in general. Being able to human effectively in general would be nice.

My brain is screaming at me a little like ‘dude! We were only just single and now you’ve gone and down this, like what the hell? I don’t even know what to do with all THIS’. And I’m just like ‘yeah, yeah I know, now here’s some inspirational quotes, deal with it’.

As usual I’m trying to cope using my ability to take the piss out of myself. I even dragged my tired butt out of bed at 6am to go to the gym to punish my body even more. But I have goals and I’m determined.

So I’m going for it. I’m still not used to someone I like seeing me all sweaty and looking as though I’m genuinely on deaths door.

I’m not one of these people who look ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’ and ‘babe’n’ while working out. I despise people who do and stare at them in the gym wondering if they’re possibly robots.

So that’s my life at the moment. It’s a bit wonderful, a bit scary, and there’s a lot to accomplish. But I have faith it’s going to work out just fine, and just how it’s meant to. I’m putting a focus on spending more time with my family and I’m making sure I get out of bed at least a few times a week at 6am to work out.

I’m prepared to work for what I want. And I’m not prepared to let anything, or anyone, stop me from getting there. I think this year will be one of personal development and realising life is more than your fears.

Bring it on!

(Someone also please get me coffee because I need that if I’m going to be all ‘yes I can do it!’…that takes motivation and without coffee… well… just get me the coffee please)


I really need to stop having these 11.30pm sudden brainwaves for blogs, they are highly disruptive to my sleep patterns! Never the less, since I went to all the effort of reaching over and turing my computer back on I better follow through with my potentially tragic blog post.

I began this blog three years ago because I wanted to be honest. You know that kind of refreshing yet cringe worthy honest you don’t find many places now? Yep, I wanted to be that. And I feel like I did that almost too well at some points. But lately I’ve been really dropping the ball. There are several things I usually leave off the table when it comes to blogging: my relationship, my family, my job.

Mainly because: I still want to be in a relationship, I actually enjoy talking to my family, and it is also necessary to continue being employed. Ok so the last one is a little bit of an over exaggeration. But I thought it was about time I started sharing some of the tough parts I tend to just avoid on here…because they’re life. It’s all part of life. And what point is there in having an honest blog if I’m never honest?

Long distance relationships suck…really suck. We only live an hour apart so it’s actually not that long distance. But after nearly four years there are some things I’ve come to love and come to hate about it.

It’s easy to end up with no social life because you spend most weekends at their place, or yours if they actually make it that far (stab stab, I promised myself this would not be a bitch session), you find yourself acting like a control freak because you don’t want to see their friends during the little time you have with them, sometimes it’s kind of nice having separate lives and not having to speak to anyone in the evening, ‘moving in’ is not as simple as just shifting to their apartment – it’s actually a rather large decision and requires up rooting your entire life, going out for a lunch date feels weird, you get to make the most of time spent together, when things go bad they’re not just around the corner, but you have two of everything so your over night bag doesn’t need repacking every weekend.

So after a chat with my homeopath tonight it was established I have a personality which tends to attract the whole ‘responsibility thing’…I like to be organised, I’m fairly reliable if you don’t want to get somewhere on time, so generally speaking I’m quite good in a ‘motherly’ roll. The problem with that is the other side of my personality imagines disappearing with no waring when I feel large amounts of pressure to act consistently like a grown up.

After a fight with my boyfriend over what’s important in our lives, bloody rugby, and feeling like I constantly mother my sister and also feeling like I’m stuck on this treadmill going faster than I can run at work…I kind of feel like I want to crawl under the covers and never come out.

Because part of me also knows it’s my fault!

I am that ‘person’ for some people, and I try to be that person so that people need me, and it’s not just limited to people, I never let anyone else ride my horse for six years for crying out loud! I like to be needed. But I often forget I need to let myself just be me. And just enjoy being me.

This year was about being unapologetically me…and I think I lose sight of that often trying to be everyone else’s person. I get lost trying to keep up. But I can’t. I never could. Sometimes life just has really good little reminders for me.

I need to let go, I need to let people stand on their own two feet, I need to allow myself to be angry when I’m not ok with things, I need to find who and what I want to be as a journalist.

I need me more than anyone else right now…and I think I’m slowly getting there.

So here is to honesty, and more of it to come!

Please fasten your seat belts and prepare for crash landing.

Rare insight into the mind of a journalist

I have had the honour of meeting some pretty incredible people in my life. It’s the people you least expect that surprise you in the best ways. The best thing about being a journalist is getting to see people. I don’t mean with your eyes, but with your heart. You see people in a different way to most, you look at them from every angle, from each flaw to each strength. Not in every article, but when you take your time on something like a feature, you are taking that person, and you are restricting them to 500-3000 words. Your job is not just to describe them, but to get other people to see beyond those words because that is not all who they are, that is just what you have managed to capture with language.

I have walls made of steel I am told. I don’t mean to, and I don’t think every person who meets me makes that assumption. I think when you are so wrapped up in wanting to know the small and intimate details about a person, when you ask the kinds of questions that most people are not brave enough to, you often forget that you too have a story.

Being a journalist is an incredible job, you are blessed by people who open up and let you see them. You find all kinds of people, and you can take something from each and every one.

Some you can tell want to be hard, they want to shut you out, so you just wait. You wait until they trust you in a way that will let them talk with passion. Others love to talk, and they want to tell you everything, but you have to be able to direct that, keep them on track, the challenge with those people is finding out something someone else doesn’t already know. There are patient people too, those who simply wait until asked the question. They are the most challenging because they are the ones where you have to work for your answers, you have to be good at your job, but they are also the most rewarding because that is the time you get to be creative.

You hear and see some very sad things as a journalist. Even in my short career so far I have seen the pain life can cause. It opens your eyes to the realities that are easily forgotten. You learn to appreciate life, but to also take a step back and learn when you need to stop caring so much. As a journalist you are both caring and assertive. You want someone to tell you their story, but you also have to know when to stop putting up with the crap you get thrown at you, and just go get the story.

It is not easy, and when you’re dreaming of deadlines and punctuation, or typing so fast your fingers get cramp, or so you desperately want to sleep but the story comes first, you wonder why you do it. But then you have those moments when you realise, there is nothing else you’d rather do, it doesn’t matter how hard it can be, it is rewarding in ways I didn’t know were possible.

You get to know people, and that is a pretty cool job perk.


The idea of perfect

The above blog has inspired me to get the thoughts I have been trying to put into words onto a page. I am a perfectionist. No, the clothes on my floor 60% (…or 80%) of the time would not make it look this way. But people don’t see my room. I am a perfectionist in the way that I like everything to look perfect, even if it is not.

I had absolutely no idea I did this until my instructor pointed it out in my riding. She said something along the lines of “stop don’t just keep him there to look good, you have to be ok with messing it up to actually get it where you want it to be”. That is what I took from what she said anyway. People should really get dressage lessons, even if they don’t horse ride, dressage instructors say some incredibly deep and helpful daily life things.

But anyway, the point I am making: I keep things tightly controlled, I hold on and I do not think to question because I do not want it to look anything but ‘pretty’. It looks good, so it is good. That was my mentality. If people think it looks perfect, it is. 


And I called myself out on it.

Shortly after I realised that that was the exact problem I was having with my relationship. There were so many things I did not question or think to change, even though they bothered me, because it looked perfect, and I had it together in other peoples eyes. I have been going about pulling it apart layer by layer to find the problems, to fix them, to actually have a good relationship. 

Like the above blog, it is easy to forget about the important things, rather than just good it looks in a picture. It is not about the look, it is not about what people think, it is about how it is. That is evidence enough in itself. If I can win events on my horse, if I am happy riding him, and I can sell him to a great home, that is success, not if he looks pretty every time I ride. It is about if what I am doing each ride is amounting to something and helping me achieve the end goal. 

Same in a relationship, is what I am doing for others, or for me? Do I care about getting engaged because there are so many people on Facebook with their freaking perfect rings? Yep. Really, I am not at that stage. I’m happy for them that they are, and I can’t wait till when I am. 

Life is not a competition to look the best. Life is about your life, how you feel, what you accomplish. 

Am I doing it for the Facebook pictures, or am I doing it for my life?


4 and a half years ago

4 and a half years ago. That’s a little while really. Many things change in 4 and a half years. I covered a story tonight, in a small rural town that my boyfriend lives in. This is the sort of place you kind of know where it is but most people never stop here. It has a tiny population and it is one of the last places on earth you expect to run into people you haven’t seen for 4 and a half years. 

But tonight, in the town hall, in this small rural town, at 8pm, on a Saturday, I met him again. I don’t even know if I can say again because I don’t know if I ever met him to start with. I was 15. I dated his best friend. He was with this girl at the time, a pretty blonde girl. His best friend had just cheated on me (well, he says he didn’t… it’s a twisted story and not really one worth telling) and proceeded to dump me. To be perfectly honest I don’t think I ever cared a whole bunch. None the less, that sort of thing hurts at 15. This guy (tonight man) began talking to me and we were best friends, or in my 15 year old world we were. We spoke every day all day and I relied entirely on him to get through the next few strange, borderline hellish months of boy drama. 

Then we stopped. I don’t know why, perhaps he does but I don’t. I’m not even sure there was a reason. We were amazingly close friends. To this day I don’t think he realizes just how much he helped me. 

But on my silver flip top phone with limited colour and a pixilated screen he became my everything. Then, just like that, he stopped. 

4 and a half years later there he was. In a small rural town, at 8pm, in the town hall. Standing with a friend who knew the friend I was there with. I didn’t even recognize his face till someone said his name. Then it hit me. Like a punching bag I didn’t get of the way of when in full swing it smacked me, straight between the eyes. Just like that, there he was. He’s been here for a long time. He’s even worked with my boyfriends mother. I never knew. 

It is a bazar sequence of events which lead to seeing him again. I hope to go out to coffee with him. 

This time I brought up the boyfriend topic BEFORE we went to coffee, though I am pretty sure his intentions are quite contrary to crash guy.

In 4 and a half years the things I have done – the things that have changed! I no longer have braces, I discovered pretty undergarments, I got a little more clued up on fashion, I changed my hair colour a million times. I haven’t grown a whole lot (height wise), possibly 3 cm. I left home. Had several boyfriends. Now am in a serious relationship. Grew my hair out. Have nearly finished a degree. There are just so many little tiny things that are so astonishingly different.

He was part of a chapter I thought I had long closed – a chapter that linked into almost everything I do and have now. A weird and perhaps one of the most testing times of my life. Interesting none the less. I often wondered what became of him. Now I suppose I shall find out.

Let the adventure being. 

The adventures of zip and accidental friends

I am going to be brave and write this hoping, yet knowing full well it is possible, that the person I met today doesn’t read it. Otherwise I will probably take out #1 spot for most stalkerish person ever. None the less, due to the name of my blog I feel it would be a crime not to share my story. 

Today, I was merrily driving little zip home. It was a busy night on the motorway and the patter of rain washed some of the grit off my windshield. I moved lanes because I am one of the impatient people who can’t just wait in the slow lane. I’d been in that lane for a little while when the traffic stopped. When I say stopped I mean like stopped dead. I too slammed on my breaks and zip came to an abrupt standstill. Ah, good, I thought, I stopped in time. I looked up, as I do every time I stop and looked in my review mirror. There was the car I had noticed earlier. For no particular reason it had just stuck in my mind… I get board on the motorway and the car was not unlike mine. 

He was approaching me quickly. Uhoh, I thought. Smack. He stopped… only due to the fact little zip was in his way. Little zip then kissed the ass of the car in front. It was a zip sandwich. 

This guy gets out, I’d assume in his mid 20’s. He seemed very shocked and somewhat overly concerned for my safety. It was nice. Aucklanders seem to be those sorts of people. I followed him, we pulled over and he was super helpful and gave me his details. I thought at the time, as one does in a situation like that, he’s good looking, why do I always seem to have crashes with good looking people? It made me laugh and I didn’t say much as I was quite concerned I would indeed burst out into a fit of giggles as I normally do in any situation that involved danger. It’s a coping mechanism I think. 

Got home, sorted out insurance, zip does not seem too worse for wear other than a somewhat lopsided bumper and an improvement on the wheel alignment. 

I felt sorry for the poor guy who’d hit me. People seem to not be able to understand why I was not overly angry, or really actually angry at all about the whole thing. I do remember how it felt to be the person in the backside of someone else’s car, I also remember them being not very happy, though their car was fine, and me thinking well… what exactly do you want me to do about it right this very second!? So I am more than happy to cut people some slack, especially when they’re nice people. 

Now seeing as my boss at the SST has time and time again told me journalism is just as much about the investigating as it is the writing. So, to Facebook I went. He wasn’t hard to find. Looked a little different in a profile pic but hey, that’s alright. I found out he actually works for the same company as me. Yes, of all the people in Auckland to crash into me it had to be someone who I could probably meet again. 

I had to chuckle again at the irony. 

I now feel a lot like a stalker. 

Never the less, he seems like a nice guy and I need friends here as currently I have zilch and if I am moving here in the future I’d quite like to have some contacts rather than ‘welcome to Auckland, now go be a loner’. He sent me a text making sure I was ok and that insurance was sorted out, I said yup and sent a nice reply back. He then asked if he could buy me coffee to make up for it. I said why not.

This is my issue. I have a boyfriend right, but I get along well with the opposite sex. That is just the way I am and no, I don’t flirt. Especially not in the situation of rain + you just hit my precious new car + I’m not single and I think quite a few years younger than you. 

However, I do want to go to coffee and I would like to get to know more people. The problem… is this something people do or is it something that indicates I am single and in which case how do I mention without being really bitchy sounding when his intentions could be completely innocent, that I’m not single. 

This is problematic. 

Also part of the reason I Facebook stalked to see if he was taken. He’s not. Increase urgency of the issue at hand. 

Oh little zip.

You’ll have a new bumper soon. 

The play

I am a person who doesn’t like to give much away. I like to surprise and I find it hard to just blurt out things about who I am. I’m a listener, I am also a ‘fill blank space with useless words’ I can even pick just about any topic and get someone to babble on about it. If I want to talk that is. But I only like to give away what I want people to see or know. This has served me well throughout my teen years limiting teasing and rumors. This is not quite so great as a ‘nearly an adult’ adult. It limits my connection with people. I am getting better though. 

The other day me and my boyfriend of nearly two years were watching TV as I moaned about my foot I couldn’t walk on. There was nothing good on TV, except for Disney Channel, which there is almost always something entertaining on. So Disney Channel it was. Phineas and Ferb came on. I burst into song. I get really into theme songs, like really into theme songs. My boyfriend turned around and stared at me in horror. I kept singing. The look on his face was like no other I had ever seen, it was a cross between admiration, horror, distaste and surprise coated with a tasty bit of confusion. 

“That was something I did NOT know about you!” 

“Well, yea, why wouldn’t I know the Phineas and Ferb theme song?” 

He didn’t get it. It is the number one most catchy song I have ever heard on TV. I have a little brother who loved the show and in my final years of being at home it played over and over and OVER after school. There was little else to watch. So yes. I know the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Now my boyfriend knows I know it. 

It is nice to still have things we don’t know about each other after two years. It leaves me thinking ‘do we ever really completely know each other’? I hope not. I like surprising people, learning new things and burst out with something totally off the wall. 

I think that’s how I’m going to play life, perhaps I wont burst into random song around people who have yet to fall madly in love with me… but I do think the little surprises are just what makes me me. 

It’s what makes us all a little quirky and a whole lot of random.