To the average Perfectionist, Perfectionism can hold one back, cause worry, and stop one from achieving.
But I have a simple solution.
Add an Ing at the end of Perfect.
So today, I am Perfecting, my writing.
It’s a way of life, an aspiration, a verb.
So now, Dear Perfectionists, keep doing what you do. Keep Perfecting every aspect of your life.
Just to mention this bush fires again… it is still bush fire season here in Australia…I’m just posting this piece I wrote as I helped with the bush fire near my family’s home.
While the bush fire is near, I feel irresponsible, leaving my sister with my nephews alone and with out my support.
So that means I am currently sitting in the lounge room with a 4 month old.
Now one thing I must note. His target at the moment is to learn to crawl.
In the past 30 minutes I have watched his little face screw up in concentration as he pushes his chest up off his baby blanket. To all extents and purposes he is failing.
But do you know what he does?
Every time he’s on that blanket, he tries and tries again.
It’s not failure. It’s a part of his learning process.
So every time I hit a wall, I’m going to follow his example. I’m going to focus on my goal and start working on it again… until I get there.
Are you going to follow a 4 month old baby’s lead too?
As Christmas nears, I bet you’ve been Christmas shopping.
Buying gifts at this time of year is a major part of life. And mostly it is expensive.
It also is an activity that leads to rampant consumerism… and I DON’T like seeing myself as a Consumer.
So a tip to all who are also rebelling against this label.
From a Podcast I recently listened to:
Buy something to wear.
Buy something to read.
And buy something functional.
Merry Christmas and I’ll write to you in the New Year.
How many of us spend our life waiting.
Waiting for a higher paying job. Waiting for the holidays, waiting for the Significant Other?
It’s hard to get this, or at least it has been for me…
But Life is happening NOW!
As we all wait for things to be different, life is not waiting for us to make up our minds or for the right opportunity to announce itself.
So, why are we?
My challenge before the Christmas season and the New Year is to stop waiting.
Get up and make a decision.
Resting is okay… but do not wait.
There’s a new twist on the word “Junkie.”
In many ways I am a Junkie. A Junk Junkie.
Crowding my home are little knick knacks, several pine cones, and some sentimental things to remind me of Nanna.
Oh, and did I mention I love op shops. I love trawling through, looking for little treasures that none but me find attractive.
Sounds like a Junk Junkie to me!!! Self diagnosed!!!
But today, I am proud of myself.
I actually walked into an op shop and out again with only one item stowed away in my shopping bag.
Maybe I’m beginning to join the mini revolution others have started. The swing away from clutter. The swing towards minimalisation and saving the planet by owning a few less pieces of junk, and freeing up some time and wealth for loved ones.
Are you an Op Shop tragic like me? Or are you swinging towards owning less?
Leave your answer in the comments section
Recently, I attended a workshop on how to cope when living within an emotionally unstable environment.
The take away lesson for me was this:
Be on the watch out for the Perfectionist.
When caring for yourself or someone else, it’s okay to be unable to fix the problems within the relationship.
People cannot be fixed.
It’s best to accept that you are doing your best, even when the situation isn’t working out.
But if you are seeking perfectionism, then you become a part of the problem.
Relationships are not perfect. They are always changing. Being a Perfectionist just puts you into a state of distress and weakens your ability to respond with love.
So next time I find myself seeking perfectionism, I’m pulling back and saying to myself:
“Good is good enough.”
My Nanowrimo has hit a snag.
It’s not writer’s block or lack of discipline.
This morning, my family were relieved to go home. They were lucky they had a home. Over the past 48 hours, a spectacular effort was put in by the Firies of Australia. These are the true heroes of the whole event. Men and women who volunteer their services to be Fire Fighters when the bush fire season are upon us are amazing.
These brave people are not paid a cent for risking their lives in times of fire.
If you’d like to know more about the bush fire my family almost lost their house to, google Hillville Fire. It’s been all over the news.
As I write this, my Dad, also a volunteer firiey is sleeping. He is 78 and worked from 7am to 7pm yesterday with a tiny crew of 3 people, putting out fires.
Most of the volunteer Fire Fighters are over 50 years old.
I suspect more of my posts may be influenced by my experience of the Hillville Fire. There are so many aspects of this event that strike a chord with me.
But today, I’m so proud to be a part of a nation where we have such an effective volunteer force.
Thank you to the volunteer operated Rural Fire Service of New South Wales. You and your interstate colleagues saved my family’s ancestral home.
Thank you indeed.
I’m sitting in a dental clinic’s waiting room. The Receptionists are friendly, but I’m nervous anyway.
My Dentist, who I first visited as a child and saw well into adulthood, has retired. Which means I require a new Dentist.
The first option did extra work on my teeth. I disliked her enthusiasm for drilling into what I thought was healthy tooth.
So now, I’m getting a second opinion. This Dentist came personally recommended by a Work Colleague.
The moral of the story?
If you’re unhappy with the Dentist you’re seeing… switch.
Teeth are important and expensive accessories to the human body.
Look after them.
So, I’m up for the ultimate challenge.
Can I, a humble Blogger and Social Media Coordinator, come up with
50 000 words in 30 days?
The proof is in the pudding.
There’s a chapter book, lurking in my laptop, that requires an overhaul.
Maybe… but maybe not.
You see, I wrote more a plot line than an actual story. Now, it’s time to write the story.
At the moment, it has been named “The Festival.”
So, fingers crossed, some time in 2020, I’ll be posting about it being published.
Can you be my cheer squad?
Will you support my first ever Nanowrimo?
For more information on Nanowrimo, look up
All my life I’ve been upset by the way Dad spoke to me when we used to work together.
To gain my attention he would whistle to me. And it made me feel like a dog being given commands.
I was at my sister’s house with my 2 year old nephew.
So, what did I do when he tried to follow me outside the house in the dark?
I clicked my fingers and said, “Inside.”
What’s wrong with this?
It’s precisely how I tell my dog to get inside.
I now understand Dad much better.
I’ve not been an Aunt for all that long and am still learning.
Dad hadn’t had a teen daughter for all that long either.
So, Dad, it’s all forgiven.