Archives for the month of: July, 2011

My family is king. Always there for me and no matter what, I know they will support me in any decision I make and be there for the fallout.

I have the most amazing friends. They support me. They uplift me. They make me smile, laugh and feel special. Spending time with them reminds me how blessed I am to know them and have them in my life. They just get me.

It’s not a good weekend that doesn’t start with a Saturday breakfast with my sister, Colleen, and my niece, Chantell.

I do not like conflict. I am not afraid of it, but will avoid ruffling feathers unnecessarily. If forced I will go for the jugular and I always make sure I draw blood.

I don’t play mind games. I will speak my mind and make sure I know where I stand.

Self preservation is something I practice on a daily basis to ensure that I protect myself from any unnecessary pain.

Nothing will ever compare to the loss of my husband. No pain under the sun will ever come close to that feeling. And I survived that pain and loss. I’m not saying I will be unaffected by other situations. I am saying that I will survive.

I love meeting new people and socialising. For a long time I kept to myself, but now I am absolutely loving the social side of me. Perhaps it is cabin fever, resulting from working at home, but I think it is because I am finally moving on.

I am incredibly excited about the new chapter of my life. Resigning from a company I have worked for for 13 years and taking 4-6 months off to decide what I want to do next, is the ultimate luxury. I am incredibly fortunate to be able to do this.

My home is my refuge. I fill it with things that make me happy and add comfort. I try make sure it is a peaceful place to be and want others to share in that comfort and peace with me.

Sunday nights are still the loneliest night of the week for me.

I love champagne!

This song just hit the spot for how I have been feeling the past few days …


The Lonely – Christina Perri


Listen to “The Lonely”


2am; where do I begin,
Crying off my face again.
The silent sound of loneliness
Wants to follow me to bed.

I’m a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I’m the shell of a girl that I used to know well.

Dancing slowly in an empty room,
Can the lonely take the place of you?
I sing myself a quiet lullaby.
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again.

Too afraid to go inside
For the pain of one more loveless night.
But the loneliness will stay with me
And hold me til I fall asleep.

I’m a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I’m the shell of a girl that I used to know well.

Dancing slowly in an empty room,
Can the lonely take the place of you?
I sing myself a quiet lullaby.
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again.

Broken pieces of
A barely breathing story
Where there once was love
Now there’s only me and the lonely.

Dancing slowly in an empty room
Can the lonely take the place of you?
I sing myself a quiet lullaby
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again.


Clear the fog from the brain, check your worries at the door.


Climb a mountain, laugh with friends, enjoy a sunset and celebrate the beauty of life …


It sounds like a very easy thing to do. Letting go. Sometimes you are considered weak for clinging to something that holds no hope or future. But I say that it requires immense bravery and strength to realise that it is time to let go.
Of course, I speak only of myself, when I write this. This is because I need to let go.  I know that I need to let go. 
For over four years I have held on to a life that I once lived. I have kept my heart hidden away from the possibility of moving on. I have closed myself off from the world around me. I have kept parts of myself hidden.
There have been times I thought I was ready to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, stick them back together and give this fragmented heart to somebody else. But I realised that I could never do that. What good is a fragmented heart to someone? What good is a half-hearted attempt at change?
So for four years I have plugged away at sorting myself out. At fixing me. At licking my wounds and putting myself back together again. And I think that I am finally ready to do this. I have dealt with my guilt at moving on, forgiven myself for considering it and accepted that in all of this, letting go doesn’t mean I am going to forget. Letting go doesn’t mean I do not care. It just means that I care enough about me to give myself another chance.