31 January 2016

The struggle is real

I run my own business.

It's been going for just over two years now and it started small and it's gotten bigger and it's doing quite well these days.  I even have a wonderful team now. And an accountant. My beautiful man owns it with me but it's mine. My time, my passion, my experience, my partnerships, my knowledge, my stress, my learnings and my achievements that underpins whether or not it succeeds or fails.

It's been a steep learning curve.  And a humbling one. I'm good at what I do but I knew nothing about running my own business. And I stumbled. I tripped. I fell. I swore. I crawled. I toddled. Then I asked for help and well.... I should have done that sooner.

I've definitely got some pace on now.

But it doesn't take away the fear. And so, you're switched into the business 24/7. Pitching, worrying, strategising, selling, wondering, writing, training, delivering, revisiting, laughing, crying, swearing, swearing some more. And then on top of that you have a relationship, children, friendships, family, volunteer commitments, business commitments, networks, study and the intense desire to sleep uninterrupted for 8 hours.

And then your pysch talks to you about self care. And I give my impassioned speech about integration not balance. Which she actually agrees with so I'm kind of singing to the choir on that one. I don't have a lifestyle where I can balance things. They all have to work together. I work doing something I'm quite passionate about so it's not a case of this is my life and this is my work. It's all a jumble of complex priorities and a lot of self doubt.

Now that I think on it, we talk about this self care bit often. When I say 'we' - she keeps bringing it up so I suspect she thinks it's something I should be focussing on.  I've put it on my list of things to do this year. She can't say I'm not listening.

Look - somedays I'm a freaking machine baby - NAILING THAT SLIPPERY LITTLE SUCKER CALLED SUCCESS LIKE MY SURNAME IS KERBER. (No, don't be silly, of course I didn't watch it, my Facebook feed told me you all did and that in the end she beat the Williams lass)

And then other days I'm more Steven Bradbury. If I'm winning it's because other people have tripped over their proverbial skates allowing me that brief thrill of victory and a temporary respite.

Like all people I have to let some things slide sometimes, and pick them up other times. I worry about letting people down, I worry about fucking it all up and I worry about things I can assure you don't even cross the mind of some people. I've got such a huge amount of practice in worrying, that I can worry about the amount of time I spend worrying.

Success for me is not just building a business that I am proud of. I'm already proud of what I've achieved and I'm pumped to achieve a lot more this year. It's also about getting this integration thing right - working out how to keep it all ticking along and work in that elusive self care element seamlessly.

But it's not a case of set and forget.  No life is. The struggle is real, it's constant and it's ever shifting.

I don't even think this blog post has a point. But getting that all out of my head into a post has stopped me worrying about the fact that I worry so much and WHAT IS IT ALL FOR AND WHAT IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING SOMETHING SOMETHING which was kind of getting in the way today of me actually doing anything useful.

So back to it. Happy Sunday lovelies.

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14 January 2016

For the love of sugar

In life I'm blessed in one way - I rarely crave 'sweets' as in chocolates or lollies.

That's not to say that I can't put them away when presented to me but given the opportunity I'd rather snort cheese and inhale crack(ers).  It's just the way I am. More than a small bit of chocolate makes me feel ill. Don't judge me - with vices as abundant as mine it's nice that the universe cut me some slack there.

But I'm a sucker for empty calories in a can.  Or a bottle. I don't drink hot drinks at all so I suck down my caffeine and my sugar in cold form. Sometimes I'm very good and only have the odd one and then there are days when I'm not that good and I'll have two or three.

I also drink a lot of water. Litres of it. Remember that my wee was once declared the best the maternity nurse ever did see.  Totally boasting there people. Olympic grade pee.  Go me. I am well hydrated and could get the t-shirt to prove it!

So when I watched 'That Sugar Film' this week (way after it was cool - I know! I know!) I wasn't expecting it to be comfortable viewing.  But then Hugh Jackman appeared on the screen and "Hello!"

By the time Stephen Fry came on to recite me poetry I was won over.

And then I wasn't.

The film is good fun to watch. Well researched. Production is fun giving you some great visuals to describe some pretty dry processes within the body.  It definitely got me thinking about my insides and the fabulous work the various organs (big shout out to the liver clearly - you're totes my favourite baby!) are doing inside of my 'toffee tummy'.

Workers of the world run to the top of the mountain

I learned loads about fructose and glucose and sucrose and lactose and I now know how much a gram of sugar is.  I remembered how much I liked Zoe Tuckwell-Smith and randomly googled what they called their baby (Velvet) and I was definitely learning things.

I am also 100% committed to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever in my life drinking Mountain Dew again.  Even though I couldn't tell you if I've actually ever drunk it before. But I definitely won't again. That lad's mouth. Totally contraceptive.  Poor thing.

But it didn't make me passionate about giving up sugar.  It definitely gave me a kick in the arse about refining my bad habits.  But the arse is well padded so I have come to the conclusion that the kick was an irritant rather than a motivator.

And that was because there was a lot of bullshit in the film. Some of it was clearly bullshit because it was coming from the face of the self styled nutritionist and 'food rock star' David Wolfe whose 'truths' about a lot of things from good eating to vaccination have been proven to be nothing more than the bullshittiest kind of bullshit. Meryl Dorey is a fan of David Avocado Wolfe. Enough said.

It also pretty much says that bi-polar, stupidity, the imminent extinction of the oldest civilisation on earth, all moods, anxiety, depression and acts of joy are directly related to the intake of processed sugar.  And it was presented in such a common sense way that I was all set to throw of the shackles of sugar and live a perfect life.

It's a seductive movie. Saccharine bliss is the nirvana of any rom-com junkie and if all I had to do was break up with processed food to basically be as happy as Drew Barrymore and as beautiful as Lupita Nyong'o ALL OF THE TIME why wouldn't I?

Um, because science.

Um, because moderation.

Um, because genetics. I am never going to be as beautiful as Lupita Nyong'o. And that saddens me.

Lupita on Sesame Street being gorgeous
I am not going to deny that the movie has got me thinking about doing things better.  Nobody likes to recognise their own 'toffee tummy' on a TV screen. From that point of view - That Sugar Film got me thinking.  But it's not radicalised me. It's not taught me anything that I didn't fundamentally know. It didn't inspire me to be a clean eating vegan inspired actor with a penchant for dodgy turtle necks.

I liked that it got me thinking. I will give all of you who implored me to watch it that. It really did. And I like having my thinking challenged.

But in all honestly, the 'The Weeping Camel' did the same thing back in 2004.  I honestly didn't know then about weeping camels or classical violinists on the Mongolia steppes, but by Colin it was fascinating. You should totally watch it. You'll learn a lot of things you didn't know.

And none of them will involve David Wolfe.

Or the mouth of a Mountain Dew addict.  And for that you will truly thank me.

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5 January 2016

Resolutions! Bah Humbug!

It's the new year and it's the new me.

If the new me is exactly the same as the old me but slightly podgier due to the excessive amounts of food I have eaten over the last few weeks.

With no exercise.

And wine. Much, much, wine.

But it's okay - I have new year's resolutions! I am going to be different! I am going to be better! I am going to be like Super-Me.

Just after I have a good lie down and probably some anxiety reducing drugs.

Have you read all the resolutions people have made? Or the anti-resolutions - you know when they resolve not to make resolutions or to do less of some things rather than more. Or something.

And people keep taking pictures of gym shoes and checking in at the gym or mentioning mindfulness and their new zen mindset.  And the memes. All of the memes which demonstrate our commitment to our mindful zen like serenity.

Well mostly, I have at least one friend who is even crosser this year than they were last year which means that they are about one drink away from channelling their inner Charlie Sheen and shouting about tigerblood.

The tiger knows nothing
But mostly, people all over the joint are all revved up to do the most amazing things this year. They are going to be hashtag fierce. They are going to be hashtag focussed. They are going to be hashtag winning at life. They did not like 2015 and 2016 is going to be the year they remember as THE YEAR.

I don't know what the f&*k they are going to be doing in February but I suspect bedrest will be high up there considering all the hollering about change and zest and ferocity.  Why do we have to be so gung ho about changing ourselves in January?  Particularly in Australia when it's summer and our brains are basically on holidays until the end of January where we give ourselves a day off to celebrate invading Australia so we can yell 'Fuck off we're full' to people much nicer and undoubtably more deserving than we are.

But perhaps I digress there.

Why can't we just wake up one day in say May and say to ourselves "Hey, you are pretty awesome but that butt won't shift itself lady so get moving!"

Or even better - just spend all year loving ourselves stupid and being quite pleased with ourselves. Demonstrably enormous, well padded derrieres included.

I know a change is as good as a holiday - I like to say it irritatingly and ironically whenever I put on new underpants but sometimes a staycation can be just as good for us as jetting off somewhere. I mean let's face it - I spent Christmas Day spewing up with a tummy bug and I've done the same thing in Mexico. The only view I saw was the strip between the bed and the toilet. Both times.

I'm all for change. We need to evolve to ensure we don't end up voting for Donald Trump or quoting Tony Abbott in relation to climate change but I also think it doesn't need to be so drastic all the time.

Most of us are pretty ace just as we are. Doing our bit to be our best on a daily basis. And sometimes we nail it, sometimes we don't. But that's the ebb and flow of life.

I'm so hashtag zen.

So hashtag zen I made a picture
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