The Fairy To All Godmothers……

Most bloggers I know never like admitting to our readers when we are completely stumped, mind boggled or in other words: ‘why the hell did I write that?’

In my case as I am listening to my girl, Bridget running after Mr. Darcy and hoping inspiration might come knocking at my day; I have to admit this blog has got me exactly that.  Stumped, mind boggled and might I say, a little dazed.

*gasp*

I have to admit one thing and that one thing is this blog has left me with absolutely no idea how to why I am struggling in the first place.  But suspect it is due to a variety of different matters such as a wide variety of different eras.
Not to mention the individualistic structuring of how the female mind works and one sentence that hangs over the top of my head.
‘What empowers us as women?’
 

A simple question has left me questioning my beliefs not only as a woman.  A woman who not only believes in feminism but also how patriotic the country I live in, can be on a day to day basis.

In fact as of this minute, I am expecting someone dressed in a suit to come knocking on my door.  Shut down my computer before leaving the premises with no warrant and my computer in tow.
All because I am daring to bring light to how different generations have different beliefs on what empowers us.
You know how the saying goes of ‘you might have a twin who looks, speaks and acts like you in this world’.  Well I think in my case and this in case actually, no one can be the same as us when it comes to holding and partaking in our own thoughts and feelings.
Our reactions and beliefs would be and are individualistically structured, so each of us have a different formatting pattern as to how we would feel and act towards a matter.

This common sense and knowledge applies to the women who have been asked questions, seeked for information they posses as to what it was like being a woman of their era.

Some of which occurred before my time and what I suspect to be your time as well.

With that, I can state I feel pretty lucky to have been born within a generation where women were starting to get equal pay.

As a result, we were able to do things and fulfill lifestyles that our previous sisters of the sisterhood were not able to do due to a variety of different reasons.  One mainly being: male species and their beliefs women should be known and classified as being ‘less equal’.

For it hadn’t been my Mother delivering me in the era I was born into, where I have the utmost freedom to do anything I want and not be thrown in jail, have rocks thrown at me or be burnt alive at the stake.

I am lucky in that regards because I get to have the choice as to whether or not I want to have a committed 365 day relationships with someone of the same or opposite sex.  As a fact, I am no longer forced to be in relationships in case something was ‘wrong with me’ and I get to chose whether or not I am straight, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and A-sexual.

As a female of the Gen Y community, I can walk into my doctor’s and ask for a prescription before walking out of the pharmacy, holding onto a bag of estrogen pills.  Which I don’t get asked as to whether or not I am a married woman and the reason behind me wanting ‘contraception’ is so “you don’t get pregnant, Mrs…. Blackbutt?”
Where back in the 70’s as a single women, I would have to borrow or buy a wedding ring, pretend as if I had a husband back home and inform the doctor, ‘it wouldn’t be in the best of our interests if we conceived children as of yet due my Husbands work commitments’.
Like me, Gen Y women have the utmost freedom and power to do whatever they wished to do with our lives. Such as we get to decided whether or not we take maternity leave, quit our jobs when we have children or work part/full time.
We also get to use our brains and decide for ourselves as to who have sexual relationships with and as to whether or not we use protection.
As part of the Gen Y club, we get to decide as to whether or not we wish to put on our ‘Samantha’ hat and sleep with nearly if not, all the men of New York…. make that Brisbane in my case.
Or if we are going to slip on our Charlotte hats and wait impatiently for Mr. Darcy to appear on the scene in a cab or horse driven sled and then officially join the elite marriage club.  As a result, we change our last names from ‘Independent Woman’ to ‘Stepford Wife, III’.
As someone who has both openly discussed my emotions towards marriage, children and love; I am both Samantha and Charlotte.  Having said that though, I have a little part of Carrie in me as I am waiting for that love.  That love Carrie once described as being a “Real Love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love“.

While I may be both Samantha, Charlotte and Carrie, I am blessed to have another Gen Y woman who would be and is often described as Miranda.  As we have previously read, I describe Lady Blacksnot III to be a woman who is determined in gaining her independence and essentially has little to no time for relationships or males.

 

Instead when that calling of ‘pillage the village’ comes, she is someone who consumes and eats men for both breakfast and sex.  All the while wearing her bitch heels and attitude.
As someone who loves her dearly and constantly bombards her with questions as to why she is a commitment-phobe (her words, not mine); I actually wonder if there is a real reason.  The real reason past the excuses of: “I don’t have time to date.  The magical cock has a girlfriend and he isn’t interested in eating ice-cream off my nipples” could be that she is completely her 111th degree.
Her degree that may came in handy when pillaging and plundering past the glass ceiling while dominating the world she has stepped into and introduced herself as, ‘It’s Ms. Bitch’.
Or is it simply for the fact, she is afraid to admit she wants to be a Carrie who wants love and she has to relinquish her hold/grasp on her emotions?
Both you and I shall never know and besides, that story is for another day/blog.

Finally, I am lucky to be born in an era where I am allowed to express my thoughts, feelings and emotions without being patted on the head and reminded, ‘you are to be seen but not heard’.

In some cases from a young woman’s point of view, I can only begin to imagine what fellow females have experienced over the last hundred years or so.

From The Suffragettes standing toe to toe with the male opposition, demanding that women were allowed to have a say as to who would be elected, nominated and than stuffed as a turkey for leadership of their country.

To staring at photos of women, working in the factories in World War II as the men fought against the Nazi’s and those who wanted to begin white dictator supremacy.  Even though they worked hard, grueling hours for little pay, the feeling of self worth and importance of knowing they were defending their country and fellow men seemed to flow through the photos.

In black and white or sepia coloured photos, women chaining themselves to buildings and front doors of workplace organizations, demanding for the equal acceptance of pay between men and women.  Something in today’s society as much as it willing to allow the hint of feminism to seep out, women are still being subjectively targeted.

In equal pay (of which it is still 90 cents to every one dollar earned by men), maternity leave for both sexes and sexual harassment claims that are being overruled at the ‘he said, she said’ bullshit.

As someone who doesn’t claim to be a genius mathematician nor Albert Einstein, I cannot wrap my head around the time and era someone important was raised in.

Hearing stories of her childhood, where her Father was a miner and her mother; a powerful woman in her own right, was spent in a small rural town located in New South Wales, Australia.

From being raised in a proper traditional English home with set boundaries as to how one acted around guests and family members, I can say as a beloved family member; I suspect I wouldn’t have coped as well as I do today.

Simply for the fact that I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut in some cases when it should.  By tolerance for being a lady can come and go along with the knowledge of when ‘one simply does not use fowl language’ and attends church every given Sunday.

I also suspect as much as this person appears to be your ‘prim and proper’ English school ma’m when you first meet her to the bumbling, hilarious and generous soul; she was a bit of a rebel.

With that, welcome to another blog for the month of Empower October.

The person that I speak of and having addressed is the one and only, Fairy Godmother.

Like most people I have contacted last month, I’ve encouraged them to put pen to paper or fingertips to keyboards.

As a result, I strategically picked people out for a reason as I believe each and every individual not only comes from different backgrounds of life, ethnicity and not to mention thoughts; but it is a way for both you and I to really get a chance to know them.

The honorary guest otherwise known as The Godmother or The Fairy Godmother was asked, or rather nicely begged with a promise of my face and a dry; to pen a few words, sentences and paragraphs as to what she considered the word ’empowerment’ meant.

As normal because The Godmother isn’t like any other ordinary woman I know of, sans Lois of course, has completely and utterly stumped me.

Forget the dynamic lifter because that crap is no longer making the tree limbs, otherwise known as my legs, grow but rather is creating a nice little sand pit for my head and brain to escape into.

But what has left me stumped, confused and dazed,  I hear you ask Dear Reader.

Well this would be your answer as to why my brain has vacated the premise and taken up gardening in dirt:

“We do not always call standing up for ourselves and what is right, ’empowerment’.  For Ms. Dreamboat, it was the remarkable power she found as a Mother to raise a precious son to the very best of her (and society’s) abilities.  Sometimes it is rediscovering our own strengths after long spells of sub-limiting them to maintaing harmony within the household.  It comes in various shaped packages depending on our circumstances and you move forward with it.  But never forget how you reached where you are now and why”.

This my dear Reader, left me stumped as you can tell from the dramatically posed photo below.

Pondering in style…

After sitting back and adjusting to the message that was sent to me before leaving the writing desk to ask Lois, “what did she really mean?”; I was told to go back and ask again.

Or in other words, “Seek clarification.  You have known her for nearly 20 plus years of your life, you know the ins and outs she presents to you.  However, like a brilliantly guarded book that you do not wish to put down but continue reading, she is holding back a chapter or two”.

Taking heed to the words of wisdom as given to me by my Mother, I set about writing a few sentences of my own before hitting the send button.

Surprise Surprise the next day when I came to opening my emails after reading a reply sent to me, I had the chapters that had been tucked away for an overcast day.

This of course resulted in me getting inside of my Fairy Godmother’s brain, to see how or rather imagine how her impressive cogs turned as I gathered time to read the answers to my few questions I sent.

I read the answers to the few (eleven) questions I sent and second time in a row, The Godmother seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

Guess in that regards to she seemed to outwit me as she sent me down a completely different and twisty pathway.

But like the motto goes in my family or rather head, ‘I like to be surprised occasionally and I was surprised indeed’.

So after my caffeine high crashed where I now resembled a jilted bride, dressed in blue and red; I sat back with my feet enclose in a pair of extra large, warm socks and poured over the words of wisdom once again.

I soon discovered that my Godmother is no ordinary woman.

Not that I am admitting to having ever thought she was a ‘ordinary’ woman and that it might have not been located within her British dictionary to begin with.

In fact as a fellow woman and someone she has seen grow from a newborn to ‘hello, I have breasts’; I always thought she was a woman of force and certainly was not to be reckoned with.

Some cases, I suspected on many levels (not that I have actual proof), The Fairy Godmother could make Lois appear like she was a pussy cat on a wet day.

Instead, I learnt The Godmother may exactly be that: a force not be reckoned with but at the same time, she is more.

I discovered between the lines of wisdom, my inner thoughts and feelings towards her and the occasional blimp of fear, she is my Godmother and carrier of all things magical and yet highly realistic.

Luckily enough it doesn’t stop there for there are more times than I like to admit when my ever increasing self doubt comes to town and hits me in the face like a four by two.

As a result, the medium sized amount of belief and faith I have within myself as a human, daughter, sister and nursing student and not to mention, God; often suffers alongside my confidence as they diminish by the hour.

All because the stupid part of me is sitting by impatiently, waiting for a ‘sign’ to occur.  A sign that will tell and inform as to whether or not the Big Guy upstairs is saying, ‘Yes child, I am listening to your thoughts and prayers’.

Me and my signs I tell you.

When I need a little R’n’R away from reality, my licking of wounds having been self inflicted and all things related to ‘impending engagements, total lack of sex and men’; I am offered a salvation in the form of my holiday home.

The home of dreams, love and loss.

In essence while I am within the four walls of comfort, I am allowed to preen for a couple of hours within my pathetic pity party for one before being rudely shoved out of the party.

Thus the party comes to an end while I am made to smarten myself up, smear on some red lipstick, fluff my hair and fix my tits before I come swinging out with both guns locked.

No pun intended of course.

If I’ve learnt anything within the last 13+ years of travelling to my home away from home is: always pack warm clothes because you never know what Mexico is going to be like.  Secondly, one evening shall be spent at Jenny’s stuffing your face and waist line.

Lastly: If required, a gin and tonic with an extra splash, drizzle, glug, half or a whole bottle later shall be at your beckon.  Providing of cause you are not considering moving behind a wheel at any given time and pick ups from transition is always available.

At any time of the day or night.

As I sit here at some ungodly hour in the morning after editing and re-adding more information as I felt like there was something missing.

Before hand when I first wrote, edited and uploaded this blog, I didn’t think there was anything missing as what I had intended to write was all there for your eyes and minds to consume.

It wasn’t until I started falling asleep and was essentially reflecting back on my day and where I need to go tomorrow for self worth; that I was able to identify what was causing me to become concerned.

I asked The Fairy Godmother to pen her thoughts on empowerment since this is what October is all about.  Rather she allowed me to write questions I had wanted to ask myself but didn’t find the motivation to open the can of worms and start picking through my life with a fine tooth comb.

The answers and questions that you are about to read and form opinions to, have allowed me to sit here (at 3.00 am) and admit they have had a serious impact within my life.

This of course has caused me to question most things happening within my own private life that no one really knows about.

Which can be seen within the constant name changes on my Instagram accounts as I never truly satisfied that I am reaching out to people in a positive way.  As a result, the negative thoughts of ‘am I appearing to self absorbed with my 100th selfie’ starts taking a toll as I scroll through my photos, looking for a photo that represents positiveness.

Wishing to seek positivity and make a difference (even if small) has caused me to start ‘umming and arghing’.  Strictly based the aspect as to whether or not I wish/want/desire/need to start an entirely different blog.

A blog that no longer holds the strings still tying me to nursing and where as a free agent, I can flitter between nursing (if I so wish to discuss anal warts and enemas) to rough BDSM and sex bondage.

Each of course having a different listing and title that anyone can click and it be disclosed for their own personal viewing.  Something that looks sleek, elegant, classy but still has a twist of bondage and leather.

Not to mention has a photo of me sitting in a gigantic martini glass like Dita Von Teese.

Because in my case, I am now starting to cringe every time I open a link or make a link available for you to access what I have written and I see ‘confusednursedotcom’.  Confusednursedotcom which is of course the link to my blog and where you are at the moment.

Personally, I think it stems from the fact that I longer feel and think I am confused.

Confused as what my role as a university student, nursing student, person etc is.

It has lead me to start thinking about the future outside of my textbooks, 2000 word essays and nursing shirt that states, ‘QUT, School of Nursing’.  Some of which is positively scary but at the same time, I am no longer a child who need’s her Mother to take each step for her and chew up her food like a baby magpie.

Can I say: my kind of parenting?

It has allowed for my creative thinking process to become brighter within the past few days or rather week as I am allowing down time to occur.  Something as most of my family would know, never happens as I am constantly going from thing to the next without actually sitting back and chilling.

Even though I come across as someone with a laid back attitude towards life when really, I am a freaking mess inside and needing to pop a Xanax.

Finally, it has left me questioning myself as to ‘will I ever graduate university a sane person?’

I think it is a safe bet that I am already 3/4 crazy and 1 part vodka chocolate cake.

Without further adieu, we shall proceed to the questions and answers that made me stop and question.

Q. How do you feel when you get emails from Mum?
A. Emails from your Mum, I laugh, I cry, I ponder, I pray.Usually a mix of all of them.
 
Q. Does it make you feel blessed knowing that your relationship is almost 30 years old?
A. Yes, I consider myself blessed that I have known her for so long and doubly blessed to have you all as my family
Q. What do you feel whenever you see your family members and how does it make you feel as a woman?
A. My own biological family has very little impact on me, it did once but we are so far apart and will never be close.AS for my true families, you guys and J. & Co, it fills me with a peace to know you are around me and part of my life.I no longer feel the intense loneliness that was almost bred into me by Mum. AS a woman it brings a sense of completeness.
 
Q. What is your advice on relationships and facing reality after the rose tinted glasses are off?
A. In a relationship, there is usually something there that attracted in the first place ( besides sex) and even when the intense relationship fails one has to look a the good times and the good things. If the relationship collapses you can usually find something to smile about.
I went out with a real dork at one stage but he was willing to take me to live shows, another chap was really rough around the edges but he had friends in a reservist military lot and we went to some great balls (even had a hair piece in those days). Always look forwards, yesterday cannot be changed but tomorrow awaits us.

 

Q. Do you think you empower and inspire me as a woman. If so, how?

A. I can only empower by being who I am.

Q. How has your life changed as a woman after becoming a widow? Has this allowed you to live a completely different life or has it influenced certain aspects, you weren’t able to do while married?
A. In becoming a widow I had to work through my fears for The Godfather, as I knew he did not share my beliefs. Then I had to work through a concern that I had failed him.Now I can serve my church and school without having to juggle not upsetting The Godfather.
Naturally I do not have to consider the feelings of anyone else in doing most things as log as I have sought guidance from God and I can start each day with my quiet time each morning. I still miss my morning cuppa in bed and the quiet talks we used to have.I can spend more time with others without any headache
 
Q. What was your first thought when you held onto us children?
A. I saw you older 3 very early on and was fascinated by your perfection. Due to distance, Pablo was older when I met him – has he ever stopped growing?
 
Q. If you could describe yourself in one sentence, what would it be?
A. A woman trying her best to be a good servant of Christ.
Q. Are you thankful for the way you were raised as a child, teenager and woman?
A. My upbringing was very old fashioned but filled with joys and security. I knew I was loved. My teenage years were in many ways tough as I did not have the freedoms many of my peers had but it certainly has not done any harm long term. The one thing I did not discover was how to have loose easy friendships , I have never had many friends, just a couple. My years as a woman have been satisfactory and uplifting , especially the last 10 as I feel I have grown in maturity about many things.

Q. When Woolies (Woolworths) made you redundant, how did that make you feel? Angry, inspired to succeed in life.
A. Woolies redundancy made me very angry, hurt, ready to yell from the mountain tops.It also served to make me reassess where I was going in my working life and it was good in that it readdressed the financial inbalance between Garry & I as I was earning stupid $ there in relation to the levels of responsibility.It made me look at what was important in life and in our marriage.
Finally: a piece of advice for me.
Be ambitious but weigh up ambition in relation to all aspects of your life.Choices are made by all of us and they are not always the ones we expected to make even 12 months earlier. Remember, you are not in overall control -our creator is.
The O’Chunky Family…

Here comes the conclusion that has struck and tickled my fancy as to why I believe The Godmother is not only one hell of inspiration.  But also an empowering woman in her own right.

The Fairy Godmother otherwise known as my Aunty and honorary Grandmother figure has been placed in my life as a special someone for the last 20 plus years.

Unlike most children who see their Godparents when their parents are tragically killed and they need to pack up and relocated; I was one of the fortunate children along my siblings who saw them each and every year.

It originally started off with 6 am wake up calls of “are you wake?” as innocent children as we peered over the bed that was slightly taller than us as we took in the sleeping bodies.  Before morphing into a much older child who experienced packing a bag, making sure Big Ted and Lucy were supported with their seat belt.  Before making our way down the slippery, windy and shit of a mountain to get to surf, sand and moments of treasure.

Christmas vacations were spent as a young adult to even now as a twenty something adult, discovering most things children/adults my age don’t necessarily get to experience.

For instance I got to stand in a butterfly house and be covered from head to toe in butterflies.  All the while watching their paper thin, vein fueled coloured wings flapping to whatever beat they wanted to.  Before fluttering off to the next person who was willing to spend a couple of moments, just simply taking in the moment of zen and relaxation the butterflies seemed to bring to our lives for that very moment.

The Godmother and Godfather soon learnt upon one expedition up a lighthouse (if I remember was 15-18 feet above sea level) that once I stepped off the platform of safety and was balancing on a plank platform, I was deathly afraid of heights.

So much so, I watched the Godfather bend over the railing and watch the rocks fall into the sea down blow us and the amazing show of ‘how fast can the blood drain out of your face’ began.

Funnily enough still to this day, we joke about that day of how I completely forget I was afraid of heights as I climbed what seemed like hundreds of steps to conquer a small defeat. Before a flash of light went off in front of my face as my eyes adjusted to the site of The Godfather chuckling.

Like the saying goes: a photo is worth a thousand words and I truly believe this one is worth a photo frame and a large wall.  Complete with loss of colour on my face.

Finally as woman who has had a bumpy road towards life and yet still manages to pick herself up on a daily basis and brush herself off; I don’t think I would be able to do that without the loving, emotional, physical and spiritual support I have from The Godmother.

For if my Mother hadn’t decided to pack her bags, skip countries, marry an Aussie who toted knives for a profession and set off into the world of business administration; than she wouldn’t have met The Fairy Godmother.

Who in return wouldn’t have been adopted into our family unit as an additional family member, friend, Aunty and motherly figure.  Who expels more words of wisdom, thoughts and brilliant options of wine and food.

The Fairy Godmother…

So if my Mother hadn’t packed her bags and formed a friendship with The Godmother; than it would be safe to say we wouldn’t have known The Godfather and wouldn’t have grieved the passing of him.

Lastly, I wouldn’t have an amazing and awesome set of Godparents who told me where to find the definition of sympathy in the dictionary.  When having decided one morning after returning from a holiday, I looked it up and discovered it was located between syphilis and shit.

Surprisingly when I consider my life is not worth living or I feel like I need to escape from reality, I need to remember two things:

I could be like King Henry VIII who died of syphilis after going bat shit crazy and killing four/five wives.

Or I could shit my pants like Charlotte in front of an attractive Mr. Darcy.

Either way, my life wouldn’t be complete with The Fairy Godmother and I would be shitting myself.

Dearest Fairy Godmother, thank you for everything and thank you for the wheels of freedom.

I love you muchly and deeply.

Until next time,

Cheers xo

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