With Much Love & Hugs For The Very Final Time | An Ode To Scarlett O’Chunky.

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Hello my old friend,

The one thing I positively love about the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another is a rather brief moment you have before the two happen. This moment makes you decide if you are going to take the scary leap of faith into the unknown and fight to make it to the end of the tunnel, knowing that you had experienced a journey of growth, value and sheer bravery. Or, this moment allows you to acknowledge the opportunity to strive forward and yet, for reasons only you know, you opt to remain in the same pattern and style currently being lived because you don’t think you’ve got enough courage to face the unknown.

Like you, I have experienced similar moments throughout the last 364 days.

In my case, when being faced with these decision of leaping or remaining firmly planted, I have discovered and learnt some valuable lessons. These lessons taught me the value of personal growth and development, have shown me who my true friends’ are at times of despair and roughness as well as those who have actively encouraged those surrounding them to destroy everything that makes them ‘them’.

In return, I have learnt the value of walking away from unnecessary and un-meaningful friendships as they’d run their course and the importance of openly admitting to not only yourself but those around you, when you have reached the end of your compassion and need some time out and away.

2018 has also taught me a great deal about myself as a person and woman and by using those skills gained in my self-exploratory mode of growth and development, I learnt the valuable lessons of exactly how much courage, power and a stubborn amount of self-determination I possess.

Especially when it comes to standing face-to-face with a foul-worded bullies. Like any bully within our time as children, teens and adults, they all seem to possess that one characteristic attribute that makes you want to stand there and either hysterically laugh in their face because you have only just realised how desperate they are in wanting to create ‘a scene’. Or, you are absolutely scared shitless of them and what intentions they may have.

It’s in these moments of having to deal with certain family members, both new and old, I’ve discovered my pent-up hatred of those, who have the ultimate goal of destroying their sons/brothers down to rubble and dirt for the personal gains of themselves. 

My beloved Dearest Reader, it wouldn’t be any Scarlett O’Chunky story if I didn’t weave in a few plot points before dropping the ultimate ending would it?

Unlike the mottos, we have established as a family and as one collective unit, I have been raised to believe whole heartedly that retribution shall come to the bullies and other morally loose individuals when they least expect it. As a result, we wait patiently with our cauldrons simmering and boiling away in the background until that window of opportunity presents its self and we unleash the cauldron’s bubbling worth.

When first meeting this delightful airbag and being called a “Motherfucker” to my face several times throughout the evening, I knew the relationship I had hoped to establish had not only withered and died when I arrived on the scene but, I was sworn Public Enemy #1.

In my case, after months of undergoing severe psychological and emotional abuse and torture, my window of opportunity arrived and presented its self with psychotically grinning teeth.

It would be at her wedding reception, this troll in all sense of social media and modern-day living, learnt a few valuable lessons of her own. The lessons she learnt were: there is always going to be someone who has enough balls and determination to stand face-to-face with a bully. Put a hand into her face and in a polite and courteous manner with clear pronunciation (clearly she needs a few ladies’ etiquette lessons), remind her just how much of a rabid dog she is.

Not to mention, being reminded of the benefits as to how much is really too much regarding the bottles of alcohol consumed in a matter of hours. Alongside, just how important it is to divide the amount of alcohol with equal amounts of water. Lastly, how would you know if he’s just not that into you and how you, as an unfortunate human being, should never fuck with an O’Chunky.

Like many others penning their final chapter, my adventure began New Year’s Eve at 8.30pm while being surrounded by a bunch of children, screaming and hollering for the fireworks to start. As the sky lit up into thousands of tiny bursts of colour, I felt a hand gently find one of mine and with our hands clasped together in a semi-tight grip, Mr. Darcy and I watched the fireworks in silence. It was during the time of the sky bursting into a vibrant blue, I realised I had not only found and fallen in love with the man of my dreams after years to trying to look for him with an upside down map, but I had also discovered my all-time greatest fear.

My heart stuttered at the thought of there being a time where I would no longer wake up to the sound of feet padding against concrete, the snick of the gate giving way before the sound of a surfboard sliding against a wetsuit. Or the delicious feeling of a set of warm lips being pressed into my cheek as I snuggled further into the blankets and a whispered, “Love you” graced my ear. All of these would become distant memories and I would spend the rest of my life, yearning for these moments to be relived.

I felt rather than saw Mr. Darcy inquisitive stare at my sudden quietness and withdrawal. Not bothering to paste on a smile because he had already witnessed my anxiety-filled moments like a deer facing an oncoming car, I squeezed his hand a little bit harder. With the combined scent of salty air, pool water and the unique smell of Mr. Darcy, I pressed my nose further into his bicep. After a few minutes, I said “2018 is going to be the year for me. I am going to be a partner, a fiancée or a mother. However at the same time, I could be Bridget Jones with her 27 cats, eating ice cream as a single woman in pj’s, listening to SAD FM for the over thirties.”

Side Note: for the single ladies and gentlemen who are wishing to find their own Mr. Darcy or Nigella Lawson, I would seriously suggest going online. Weed out those weirdos and you will find your hidden gem, awaiting for you. 

Having been told, “it’s going to be a good year for us both” alongside a kiss being lovingly placed upon my head, I felt the sand shift under my feet. With that, I knew the direction within my little stream known as ‘Life’ had changed course. Over the next week or so, Mr. Darcy and I spent time with one another tucked away at our little surf-shack on the Sunshine Coast alongside my family as we brought the festivities to an end and I began packing a bag.

With my upcoming gynaecological surgery looming closer, the increasing fear of not knowing if I could have children and the unasked question of ‘what if this doesn’t work?’, I packed my overnight bag and walked into hospital like I had my shit together. Post-surgical wake-up call after having worked the past 9 day straight, I was informed by the surgical team that there had been a few spots of endometriosis with no real defined answer as to what was causing my frequent and extremely heavy periods and pain during sexual intercourse or any sort of sporting action.

Instead, I was informed I had a rather “abnormally small opening to my cervix” and because of this, the surgical team had “accidentally embedded the camera into the wall of my cervix as it had detoured.” Like any drug-induced happy person, I failed to understand what had just been explained and was shortly discharged from hospital after having shown the nurses that yes, I could pass urine without screaming.

I left Noosa with a pile of legal happy drugs and being 74.00 dollars poorer because of said drugs, I discovered the reason why I should refuse Endone as I asked Mr. Darcy why the gnome wasn’t coming home with us.

A few days into my home detention of recovery and having sent Mr. Darcy back to work because he needed some ‘boys time’, I would spend those hours perfecting my gymnastic skills and in particular, a certain roll-like-death move that saw me roll out of bed. (I’m sure that’ll be great when I cannot walk, due to having osteoporosis from having done this drop roll).

Once perfecting those skills and destroying my kneecaps in the process, I would crawl to the bathroom before beginning the masochistic game of ‘Will I? Or won’t I?’

Having always been a pessimist at heart, which is frustrating to those who are the complete opposite to me, I tried dealing with my current underlying fear. While being stranded on the toilet as my bladder revolted against the revolution of kegal exercises, I thought about my post-surgery appointment. My pessimistic brain thought about how I would be informed as a twenty something year old woman, Mr. Darcy and I wouldn’t be able to have children for an underlying and unclear reason/s. I had wasted valuable years, spent searching for a man who had all of the partner traits I had desired and I have settled down with ‘anyone with a penis’ and bred children.

Or, because I do believe in miracles happening to those who are deserving of them, Mr. Darcy and I are able to conceive and experience the joy of knowing ‘we’re having a child’ before reality strikes. As I significantly take after my Mother’s side of the family (my poor Father!), I have always acknowledged I would have a higher rate of fertility related issues such as having difficulty in falling and maintaining a pregnancy and the increased chance of experiencing a forbidden and deeply engrained taboo topic: miscarriage.

Another lesson I learnt from greatly was there is always a solution to everything and in particularly, the moment I started disliking the idea of taking after so much of Lois’ side of the family and resembling a mini-version of her internally. This lesson impacted upon my life greatly and it would be during the time of Lois and I spending moments together, sitting outside of the Queensland Performing Arts Centre after having immersed ourselves into Mama Mia with full-blown excitement, I took a valuable moment of time.

Instead of reflecting on the past two hours of Lois and I laughing our heads off, dancing with glee alongside the cast of Mama Mia and proclaiming “this was an amazing night!”, I thought about the unlimited amount of sacrifices Lois has had to do and gone through, in her twenty-one years of life. Both in secret and with a small amount of, “I’ve had to do this in order to….”.

I thought about the not-so childhood friendly stories told by Lois, of how she grew up in a household consumed with all things drugs, sex and rock and roll orientated alongside a side serving of PTSD. How Lois had fought against and eventually outwitted those who had a particular fascination for the young and innocent, before ultimately taking the victory within her hands as she showed those who had been invited to a significant event in her life that she had won the battle. I also spent those moments thinking about times where Lois spent a majority of her weeks in bed, while pregnant with me and the twins, because of rising blood pressure levels and the underlying fear of not only losing her own life but also, that of her unborn children.

When having to defend her right to have another child, after being told this decision would pretty much guarantee her death sentence due to having recently undergone major and life threatening surgery to remove a tumour; Lois was informed by those who should’ve supported her during this time that she was being immature and selfish. That this child, whether it lived or died, would not be considered anything.

Turning my head and watching in silence as Lois exhaled smoke with a smile to her lips, I knew I had been incredibly selfish within my own reasons. As a result, I had no longer thought about what the future could bring regarding positivity, happiness and the ability to grow both independently and collectively as a unit member. Just like that, I decided I would stop putting my fears of not being able to have children out into the universe and would start thinking on a positive level playing field and with that, I followed the footsteps of Charlotte York-Goldenblatt and got carried away with life.

Like any other facing the consequences of being an adult and having to learn as to what life is like within the tangled grid-like numbers of The Matrix, my now balanced lifestyle would become unbalanced once again. As a result, my twenty-something years of life that I had grown to know would change and possibly for the greater good.

Having experienced weird like mood and bodily symptoms post nursing Mr Darcy back to health after being diagnosed with the “Man Flu” and nearly succumbing to the disease, I found myself experiencing a near persistent headache/migraine. No matter what I did and implemented into my diet such as increasing my fluid intake and re-cutting out those foods I had reintroduced back into my daily living, this persistent feeling wouldn’t depart the building for good.

After using my knowledge of signs and symptoms pertaining to a brain tumour and just short of calling the hospital for an MRI, I was also subjected to listening to the matriarch of the family saying, “why don’t you just do it already?”

I initially shrugged off Lois’ remark due to a few different reasons such as I allowed my ultimate fear of being told once again by my ovulation tests, that my ovulation period was an epic dud alongside the accumulating tests as well. Therefore, I was a major dud in the fertility department. But then at the same time, a part of me was afraid of what the results would be after being told for countless years that I had a 50/50 chance of ever being able to have children and that meant, my ovaries were 100% fake and with those thoughts running through my mind; I decided to wait a few more weeks before I finally listened to my mother’s advice.

On the eve of Mr. Darcy’s birthday, I sat my arse down on a freezing cold toilet seat in the middle of the Maleny hills and stared at a wrapped pregnancy test.

It was in this moment of battling against the urge to yell out for my butt cheeks had shrivelled in size and pleading for a small trickle of urine to grace the end of the pregnancy stick, I listened to Mr. Darcy laughing at something on the television as I sat in the cold darkness of the bathroom and silently prayed. Not knowing if God had listened to my prayer, that almost sounded like a broken record being played as a repetitive plea escaped my lips, I knew the three minutes had been up a for a while and yet I couldn’t bring myself to stare at the little screen, blinking up at me.

Uncurling my half-frozen body off the ledge of the bathtub and walking barely two feet, I creaked open the bathroom door so there was enough light to shine upon the face of the test and I felt the air escape my lungs.

Out of that evening, all I can remember is Mr. Darcy and I sitting in front of the fire, staring at one another as silence filled the cabin. With the only noise being made was the crackle, sizzle and pop of the fire embers sparking new light and sound. As we packed our bags a few days later, we disembarked from our old lives by sliding shut the glass door to the cabin and began walking the first few steps of a different reality and perception of what exactly adulthood is all about.

Thirteen weeks later, we announced the impending arrival of Baby O’Chunky.

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I guess with incoming sights of impending motherhood and the need to start setting up the baby’s room because you’ve got a feeling this child will have an attitude of its own, I have to acknowledge what my final lesson of the year is.

My Dearest Reader, the final lesson for 2018 wasn’t found nor discovered at the ending of this chapter for the year. Instead, I discovered this lesson when reading the final and very honest blog post from the beautiful Paige Carmichael, at the end of 2017.

Paige Carmichael was previously known as the glorious Goddess, who lived in a dirt trap house on the shores of Sydney and wrote under the heading of ‘Heaven On Bourke’. For those who don’t know of Heaven On Bourke, HOB was an exciting escapism of reality that took you on a wild journey through Queensland, New South Wales and internationally.

All the while, weaving stories of maintaining and building confidence and self-empowerment, discovering the right dosage to just how much a penis is worth it all at the end of the day, the courage it takes to race around the world while trying to graduate from University and the somewhat hidden emotions of a very young and innocent twenty-something year old.

With Paige successfully signing off her final post with a kiss, I spent a few weeks coming and going from her site like any true stalker would and tried to understand exactly what this meant. Well clearly in any sense, it meant that Paige had grown up, discovered what adulthood and life was truly about and no longer felt the need to write under a heading of ‘Miss P xx’ and she wanted to start a new direction. It would be on the day that I sat at my desk, staring at a sign that said HOB no longer existed in the internet world that I discovered my first and final lesson for 2017/2018.

I realised I had to acknowledge when things, such as a relationships and periods of time spent writing under names, had not only run their course but also, the luck that once came with being these personalities had begun to fizzle out. It was this period of time, I came to terms with 2018 being the end of an era and with this, I realised it was time to close the chapter on Scarlett O’Chunky.

Over the past year and with countless hours being spent on going over previous posts and adventures of mine, I came to the conclusion of Scarlett O’Chunky being a very emotional, highly strung and somewhat, long-winded journey that you and I have undertaken together. Together as an online couple but also: as a solid unit of friendship and more importantly, empowerment.

As I bring my final post to an end as and for Scarlett O’Chunky, I wish to thank you.

Thank you for taking the time out of your busy days and evenings to spend it with me. I have enjoyed the past five years, plotting ideas and formulating stories so you and I can spend a few more moments together as we undergo this journey of a lifetime. Thank you for the words of encouragement, messages and emails during times of immense struggle and for being there when I graduated from University, after doubting myself. I really couldn’t have done it without your support, guidance and generosity.

It has truly been honour to be known by you and will forever, continue being so.

Lastly, the truth shall always be delivered when you least expect it. So continue looking forward and silently praying for that miracle.

Much love and hugs for the very final time,

Scarlett O’Chunky xx

 

 

 

 

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