I thought that little diddy was highly appropriate for this occasion.
For I simply believe or suspect the little cake I am about to prepare, bake and then serve to you on a silver platter shall neither rise or deflate. The reasoning behind my little cake not rising is due to the knowledge of never baking nor writing while under the influence of: alcohol and emotions.
As we all know by now, alcohol can make us do some pretty stupid things.
Like going up and asking for Mr. Handsome’s number after a few shots as our courage goes from zilch to impressive in a matter of moment. Only to find out next morning when we roll over in bed and squint at the number printed on our arm, Mr Handsome is indeed handsome but sadly, bats for the other team.
On the other hand as we are all human, emotions are often defined as being an intimate thing as we allow others to see our vulnerability while we physically grieve. Forget the rage as I am sure it is likely to come at a later date but we shall go with crying because what person wants to see you flip out?
Ah yes, those pesky emotions as I have discovered lately cannot always be contained behind closed doors as we often like to go hurtling over the edge, Thelma and Louise style.
During those times of watching other people cry, particularly patient’s family members, I often think what life would be like when we can flip a switch and be un-emotional.
I realised in that moment, I believe I couldn’t and can’t do that. Become emotionally closed off to someone or to people in general. Actually thought for a moment after turning off the switch to my emotions, life would be brilliant, calm and happy. I could get on with what I had to do with personal and university life and if I got a F for an assignment, instead of crying hysterically and going ‘you fucking suck arse!’; I would merely shrug it off and be on my merry way.
How incredibly wrong I was in that belief.
For instead of being Miss. Calm, where nothing can affect me as I had no emotions; I went Miss. Hysterical in the hallway of a hospital I was doing my practical at. All the while my poor and utterly confused as bat shit facilitator looked on uncomfortably because clearly, she had no idea as to what the hell had happened in ten minutes.
For when she had seen me, I had been emotionally cut off from the real world, my emotions had been sealed, boxed up and sent to the restricted section at Hogwarts.
To bat shit crazy because a series of thoughts and well, emotions, had come to the surface as I had been told: “I have passed you for this clinical placement for I feel you are a confident, incredibly skilled and knowledgeable person who shall go far”.
This was of course not something I wished to hear at that present moment in time.
For I had told myself or rather bargained like someone experiencing a psychotic breakdown: If you pass this prac, you are going to stop drinking, pull yourself together and stop being stupid! However…. if you fail, you are never going to return to uni as of 11 this evening, when your shift comes to an end.
It was in that split second of being congratulated, handed my completed tool and referral that I simply wanted to bolt from the room and hospital and simply run away. Run away from everything I had once upon a time felt, experienced and now having boxed it away for a rainy day in hell; I knew I was going to have to face.
As a result of this psychological mini break down that left me wanting to be found half eaten by Alsatians, I soon learnt something important.
I soon learnt as being someone who writes from an emotional level, which we have seen in the last three years, emotions have both a positive and negative impact. Emotions have allowed me to do a lot within the last three years of blogging. Such as, I have been able to write some of the best blog materials (I may be biased) that I have felt are important at the time in my life as I have been encouraged to be ’emotional’. So it made people sit there, sit back and stare at the screen in shock at what they’ve just read.
It has also allowed me to sit there and openly discuss my thoughts and curiosity towards the sex industry and for that, I have discovered certain friend/s I know, think the same as me. I mean one of my beloveds took a little drug while studying, which sadly to my disappointment had no effect.
I have written about things I haven’t been able to find in other blogs I follow.
But like any good moment, there are negative moments that make you sit there and think, ‘is it ever going to end?’
Because of these negative impacts, it has greatly affected my style of writing and blog editing as I have become unemotional and thus the flow/rhythm is lacking. This of course has made me sat there and wonder why I needed to update you as my faithful and loyal Reader on the crazy mishaps I call my life.
Why did I need to write about anything?
Simply for the fact whenever I closed down all my tabs of blogs, I snorted. For what I’d written in my mind, could and would be defined and described as a pile of bullshit. Or I felt like were a bunch of big lies.
On many occasions as I danced around the topic why the empress, being me, had lost her groove in writing and often as a result, I yelled at my reflection: “Well, fuck you! Exclamation point!”.
How very Carrie Bradshaw of me.
Which I am sure has made you feel cut off from the flow and often made some of you send me a message/email saying: “Are you okay?”. Back then, I would have laughed at the message/email before replying with, “of course, why wouldn’t I be okay?”.
Now when I reflect back on that time within my life, particularly after the death of the Godfather and the stupid stage I went through, I feel like I should have handled myself better. Not only as a person but also as a writer.
For one, instead of not writing about the real reason why I was the way I was, I should have put it down into words. Whether it was in a personal journal or in a blog for you to read. Secondly, I shouldn’t have gone unemotional robot and suppress my emotions and feelings. Rather I should have allowed the emotions I was experiencing and feeling on a daily basis to be allowed freedom.
As a result of shoving them into a box and titling it ‘death’, I went from being a fun, loving person who looked at the positivity in all things. To being a shrew who preferred to socially hang out with a bottle, drink her issues away and be in a mexi-coma.
It boiled down to the fact I felt like I was incredibly alone as I lived in Brisbane.
My family lived an incredible distance from me and I didn’t have the support and comfort I needed during that time and as a result, I felt like I had to pretend I was okay during the hours of uni. Yet when I was alone in the four walls of a home, I didn’t know how to speak or even handle what had happened.
Carrying on until I was rudely thrown out of my pity party for one, I was subjected to facing the actual truth of what my actions were doing. My self-esteem was now non-existent due to my attitude, beliefs and company in my life. Not to mention my physical and psychological well being was becoming jaded and really, I was disgusting. Lady Blacksnot and The Sheriff tagged team in their ‘friendtervention’ which caused me to wake up one day and actually take a look at myself.
It was then I was able to publicly acknowledge how much I had done a 360 and as a result, all of the things around me were falling to bits because I was wallowing in self pity. Not to mention, I wasn’t able to carry on through the stages of grief of losing a loved one as I was purely focused on myself.
Out of all the people I classify as friends, it took two from polar opposites to come together and help me through the initial stage of grief.
For that, I am truly thankful I have known these people because without them, I wouldn’t be here today.
Firstly I wouldn’t be the person I am today post Godfather death and death of who I used to be. I learnt in that moment that I had mentors like Peter, who were willing to take a few moments out of their busy lives to sit down in the early hours of the morning with a cup of coffee on a swing and listen to me talk.
When looking at the lives of those who I have on my various platforms of social media, I realised none of my issues were as complicated as Ms. Dreamboats. For what I was going through was nothing as compared to the story she faces on a daily basis when people reject her forms and ideas as to the education she thinks her son needs and wants.
I mean the kid is making bio-fuel on his front lawn for Lord’s sake and teachers are finding it difficult to understand where Ms. Dreamboat is coming from.
After opening my eyes up and taking off the damn rose tinted glasses, which sometimes are a pain in my arse, I looked at the carnage and mess my life and my family’s lives were.
Instead of banding together like we are meant to as the O’Chunky motto goes along the lines of: For We Are The O’Chunkys’; you would automatically assume we would. Rather, we decided to pretend like we were coming together as a family unit when really, we were going our separate ways to deal with the grief.
My parents experienced my brother, Frodo taking off in the middle of the night or waking up one morning and discovering he was no longer in Queensland. For he was heading off to some foreign destination he had allocated his travel time to or he was being encouraged to go off and ‘see the world’.
During this time, we said farewell countless times to The Fairy Godmother as she went on various trips around the world as she escaped reality of what had happened. Not to mention the sad looks, side glances from the eye and the overburdening conversations of: “I’m sorry for your loss”. I’m sure like any person, you would want to escape from reality in that situation and take up an alias and basically have no contact with anyone.
Post rose tinted glasses, drunken haze and wishing to leave my life as a nursing student because of small blimp on my incredibly large and diverse radar; I pulled my socks up and myself together.
After kissing The Sheriff goodbye and throwing a smile over my shoulder, I knew it was time to kick the old me the boot and start to embrace who I had wanted to be for a while. This thought seemed to be confirmed when I opened my blog and saw that I had reached over 60 views for my blog and Heaven On Bourke had been updated; it was the sign I had been waiting for.
Like any good blogger, we sit down at our various areas of choice for writing and we often tend to reflect upon what we want to write. In my case, I reflected upon my past years worth of attitude and I had a serious and hard thought as to who I wanted to be as Scarlett.
Did I want to be the pussy who asked her Daddy to check underneath her bed for monsters that would go bump in the night? Or did I want to be the seductive woman who would be willing to get on her knees and let a man take control for an hour or two?
When those hours were over and I had picked myself up from my position, I knew I would still be in control as to what happened because like any person who indulges in sex; we are in control of our own bodies and what happens to them.
The final nail in the coffin that saw the new me witness and have a hand in the death of me being a wallflower was when I got asked: “are you dominate or submissive in your life?”
Ah yes, that question changed the pathway of my life.
It was that moment in time, I stopped being the wallflower who allowed anyone and everyone to come into her life and mold and shape her to what they expected, wanted and desired. The new me saw the victim of psychological, physical and emotional bullying pick herself up for the last time and dust herself off.
Before following Liz Taylor’s word of advice of: ‘pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick and pull yourself together’.
In my case, I opted to forgo the drink but instead put on some my go-to red lipstick and pulled myself together by standing toe to toe and confronted her as to why she was such a bitch. I mean coming from another female’s point of view she had everything we, well some of us, dream of from the charming husband to the 2.3 children and house. Talk about picture perfect in that sense.
But when I didn’t get my answer I had wanted or deserved, I simply turned around and packed my bags containing all family moments and just like that; I walked away from the murder scene. All the while knowing I had just witnessed my old life as a wallflower’s murder and the emotional death of bullies. For I no longer had anytime to deal with that side of the family I had once belonged to.
Lastly as someone who was much wiser and emotionally stable in her friendships, I went through the list of people I’d considered ‘friends’. Essentially eliminating, deleting and removing those who no longer fitted the description of ‘friend’.
In some cases with a single click of a button and following it up with ‘unfollow’ and ‘unfriend’, I eliminated those who I had finally discovered were so far self-absorbed in their own little world than when I tried to part take in a conversation; I was automatically shut down.
I was made to remember that the world revolved them and their issues and not what I considered important or how I was feeling overwhelmed with things in my own life.
Also discovering those who never had the time for me in both person and writing, so whoops…. I no longer had time for them as well.
I also deleted those who I had simply outgrown, no longer shared interests with and found to be incredibly annoying. Or they possessed the stubbornness and child-like tendencies which caused them to be culled by a simple click. However I did keep a few of those people I had attended high school with to remind myself how far I had come. Because in my case, I never heard the favourable sentence of “I will never forget you and we will always be best of friends”.
Trust me, I never forgot about them.
These people shaped my determination to change who I was, which unfortunately took a long time for that evolution to happen but at least I got there right?
While most of them are parents, married or in long term commitment relationships; I can proudly state that when it comes to the year of 2007 having a ten year party and rediscovery of who married which redneck, I can proudly walk in there and know I am different. I know I am different because I left and I never returned to my comfort zone.
And when it comes to the end of the day and I close my eyes, I know deep within myself the shit I have experienced in my relatively short but incredibly long life, has made me a better person. Not to mention a much stronger person at that.
For those who are still on my ‘friends’ list on social media, they remain because I either have common interests with them, we have relationships that continue to develop. Than are those who I have kept for additional purposes such as to remind to myself where I have come from.
Humble moments of gratitude.
For if it hadn’t been for those rednecks I largely label, I probably wouldn’t have attended university to make a name of myself nor started blogging. Finally, it is to remind myself that I will never be the twin tweed set with matching pearls and gloves that I believe my university of choice would wish for me to start wearing and complying with their rules.
For I am simply no longer that person.
But rather I am the psychotic nutcase who continues to struggle with accepting ‘it’s okay to be normal’ and 30 second dance party sessions while standing in a hallway is relatively normal. Especially after performing CPR on a patient and bringing them back to life.
It has been a long journey of self discovery as to what I want, who I want to be friends and how I want to live my life. For over the last 20 months, I believe I have transitioned both emotionally and physically. Which I think has had a positive impact upon myself as a human being. Not to mention a massive impact on my thoughts as a woman and a single woman at that.
But it has also allowed my writing and blogging to get back that vibe it once had before everything seemed to hit the fan and I didn’t know how to deal with it. As each day continues to come and go and along with that, my self-confidence has grown from being a small seed to a beautiful sunflower surrounded by other equally as beautiful sunflowers.
The negative thoughts I faced on a daily basis such as, ‘you are worth nothing more than a plywood box and a six meter hole’. To now when I look at my reflection and I see both my naked face and face made up with make up and its embellishments, I hear ‘I am woman, hear me roar!’ amongst the negative comments which are still there sometimes.
But not as often as they used to be and for that simply stems to the factor of knowing how to override those negative and emotionally crippling thoughts (minus today).
Instead of allowing them to rule of my life and my emotions, I think and know I’m someone worthy of being accepted, appreciated for who I am and not what I can be or bring to the table. I believe I am someone most of all who is worthy of being loved, experience love and thus should be allowed to love someone in return. Someone of course of who isn’t hairy as fuck, has four legs and goes by the name of Lulu.
Would be a little awkward if she replied one day with, “Bitch, you better have my food!”
That someone I am talking about is my very own Mr. Big, Mr. Darcy and Jared Leto for Lady Blacksnot. Not to mention those few men who have made my heart stop for a few seconds, minutes and hours and made me wonder and question, ‘why can’t I date and marry you? You are perfect!”.
But like the saying goes: If you do not love nor appreciate yourself than no one else can love and appreciate you in return.
With this in mind, I started transitioning my thoughts from ones of negativity and self doubt to being one of positiveness and awesomeness. For instance, my confidence has grown largely by ten fold as I no longer think when standing next to my sister in a bikini: ‘suck in stomach, look center on and smile like you have just won and been crowned Miss Universe’.
As a result some 20 months later and 16 kilos lost, I feel more confident to stand next to my sister and sister in law and not have any of those annoying voices of doubt in my head. This has stemmed from acknowledging I am no longer or ever going to be a size 6 or some anorexic twig bitch and with that, I better appreciate the body I was born with and now have.
Having made this declaration of accepting ‘self love’, I have grown to accept the fact I have little white and silver lines otherwise known as stretch marks on my hips. For this tells the story of how my body has developed over the years and the struggle I have faced on a daily and yearly basis.
I’ve accepted the fact I am no longer going to have what I describe as ‘small boobs’ but now am going to walk around with Pamela’s attached to me and as a result, people are going to stare. Yes they’re going to stare because they are considered to be something sexual and not a milk bar for future children and also because I happen to be an attractive woman.
An attractive woman who carries herself in the way she dresses, does her make up to reflect what she is feeling and thinking. But also by the way she walks and communicates with those around her. By knowing and accepting what force I am and how people perceive me, I feel both empowered and inspired.
I feel empowered to bring awareness to those, who like myself, do not see what others see. So I encourage and in a way, inspire them to stare in the mirror and look at their reflections while ignoring the thoughts they tend to think and actually see what other’s see.
In some cases it can be incredibly painful to take off the rose tinted glasses we often tend to favor and look at who we have become. Taking off the rose tinted glasses, I have learnt there are going to be some arseholes who are envious of your progress and will knock you back a peg or two.
I soon learnt this life lesson when someone reported a photo I stuck up on my Instragram and Facebook profiles for having contained nudity.
It was in that moment as I stared at myself, with my nipples covered; that I realised there are people out there in this wide world who are jealous of the motion. The motion behind our drive towards our own success and determination of getting ahead and for once, not being complete douches where we allow others to dictate what we are going to do.
In other words: be sheep and not individuals.
Due to the person’s thoughts, it has continued to inspire and empower me to make drastic changes each day that I am alive. Hence how I ended up whipping off my top, lying back with my breasts out for the world to see and not giving a shit as to what society sees and thinks. For as long as I am in love with my boobs and I want to show the world, then I am inspired.
By feeling empowered in my own right, I know it is necessary that I still continue the journey I am undertaking. Because I know if I stop now, things I need to learn and experience as a nursing student, human and woman aren’t going to be learnt from and I won’t have these experiences. Plus there is the possibility when I am 90+ and on my death, I could regret my actions of not thinking inside the box for once.
Finally after so many years of being held back by many factors, I feel beautiful and not even close to being perfect. All because I let go of suppressing my emotions and at the end, I baked a cake.
I baked a cake filled with gratitude and acceptance towards those around me, myself and the one person who reported my picture for nudity. For if it hadn’t been them and their small mindedness in my personal thought, I wouldn’t have dedicated the whole month of October to inspiring and empowering.
And I certainly would not be capping off this blog in style.
With that, welcome to the last blog for Empower October.
I hope you have enjoyed the past month and the stories we have undertaken together as a team and community.
Until next time.
I am woman, hear me roar.