Hey, remember that time...

Recently I've been having movie-like flashbacks in my mind. Involuntary memory flashes of random moments in my past that leave me thinking 'where'd that come from' before it speeds off again. Flash. Waiting for a bus to Cam's at Glenroy on a cold morning. Flash. Sitting on the steps of Spencer Street Station after escaping from the calls at work. Flash. Chilling in my secret space above my wardrobe at Wallan. Flash. Fearfully standing outside the arts room by the 'Life be in it' paintings in primary school.

I didn't understand why these memories were coming up in this manner. Mostly they were negative, or stressful memories. On thinking on them more I realised their point and purpose. I've realised that in those moments and many others, I was caught up in the moment and in the negative emotions that were felt. My mind and body were overwhelmed by what seemed like such a definitive state. In that moment there was nothing else, no future, no past, that place was everything and it wasn't a good thing. But now, sitting here, in Preston at 2 in the morning, 2, 5, 10, 15 years on, does that moment at Glenroy, Wallan or wherever really matter now? Or, at least as much as I felt that it did then? Sure, all these little moments add up to make my history and who I am, but that specific moment, when the whole world was crashing around me is nothing to me now - no scars are left form it.

This realisation is relieving because when I feel that overwhelming state come on now I remind myself that once it passes it will be just that, the past. More importantly when it passes it will be insignificant, as insignificant as the hundreds of other times I've felt this way, regardless of how much it doesn't feel the case in the moment. Perhaps in a few years I'll have this random memory come: Flash. Standing at the Flinders Street Station intersection not moving after multiple green man opportunities because I just couldn't. Even 10 minutes later it was past and insignificant.

Trees and soil

I thought I saw you once, it was someone who wore green pants and an orange top, very earthy. But I guess it wasn't you. That's okay though, 'cause if I saw you now I think I'd dismiss you anyway. I might fear the interruption, because it would be an interruption to my world. I look forward to when it is you I see, even if I'm not ready now. It's not as if being ready has anything to do with it anyway, nor that being ready for you is something I can be. You will enter the room, and after some time of being polite and respecting the current set up of furniture you will begin to question the room, 'do you think a better place for that plant could be below the window?' Before I know it we'll be moving couches together, 'that works better there' and 'how about this here?' After which, I'll be living in a brighter, more open and welcoming room. Now I do wish it was you in the green pants and orange top.

Balncing; knives on one side, fire on the other.

Waiting, just waiting. Because there’s nothing else to be done. Eating excessively has been tried and failed, regardless of it’s immense success in the past. Now I just sip water, move around every so often to ensure I am not locking up and write. I am managing to prevent the anxiety from escalating into an attack which I think is a great accomplishment in itself even if I am unable to rid my body of the anxiety completely. I am performing a delicate balancing act right now. I’m on the edge of tipping over the edge into a panic but keeping myself upright. While I do so I also gently look at the other side and wonder what I can do to stop the anxiety altogether. In the past, when panicking, I couldn’t think see such a wide picture as I see now. Now is an improvement because I am picking up the tools to manage it.
Enough positive optimism, I need to vent, dammit! Fuck this is a pain! Fuck off! Leave me the fuck alone you fucking arsehole anxiety! Ah, better (well not really).

Not weak at my knees, My Knees.

Wednesday 14th October, 7:30pm.

I have just had someone tell me to write about him and then he'll read it. Since I have an epic blogger's block and a desire to move the pen, I will take his advice write about him but he won't be reading it. For the sake of this post we'll call this guy 'My Knees.' My Knees works at Lentils so my assumption on first meeting him a couple of weeks back was that we'd have some things in common, would get along and would have good conversation. This is far from true. Conversation with this guy is so incredibly awkward and more than that, this guy is a little creepy. *My Knees rubs Kristy's back as he walks by.* Make that a lot creepy. Truth be told, on first meeting him and when he showed an interest in me I did consider having some fun with My Knees and I reciprocated some interest. Oh how I wish I hadn't. I realised, after I had a reality check on him from my girlfriends, that I was just wanting to be into him because I was wanting a little fun. But to be with someone creepy and that has nothing going for me? Nothing is worth that.

I had a similar experience with a guy I met at Vegetarian Network Victoria's social dinners. Again, I hoped to have some fun with someone who walks a similar path to myself but instead I met 'Nick', we'll call him. Nick is not veg*n either, which is fine. I just wonder if these non-veg*ns hang in veg*n circles to pick off the weak from lack of iron. My iron levels are fine boys, leave me alone. So Nick, same deal, he seemed fine at first. Actually, he was lovely at first, very kind and we had awesome conversations. But then after seeing him a few times he got to telling me that he needs to have sex with me (or anyone) to prevent headaches. Nick moved up on the creep meter when he was offended that I hadn't invited him to my Mum's birthday dinner, I couldn't follow that boy's reasoning on that one. Nick exceeds My Knees on the creep meter with some seriously inappropriate behavior, after I had already said we weren't to be more than mates, at which point I stopped hanging with him, deleted his number and de-friended him on Facebook.

I was interrupted at this point by My Knees. My Knees making me super uncomfortable, My Knees not catching my hints, My Knees making me tell him straight that I am not interested. The boys I've dated (or whatever) since I've been single haven't all been like this. I've met some lovely guys, I've taken something from each of them and am really building a picture of who I'd like to be with, if it came to that.

And while on the topic of being single, it has been a year since Cam and I broke up! A year!? That is insane. I would say it feels like it was just yesterday but if that was taken literally I'd be crying, lonely and grieving. But figuratively, it feels like it was just yesterday. I am speed dating in a couple of weeks. Vegan specific speed dating, what fun. I wanted to do it last year when it was on but having just broken up with Cam, it didn't feel right. A year on now, I think it will be fun and who knows, perhaps I'll avoid the My Knees and the Nicks and find someone who I like. At the very least I'll meet some other vegans, which is something I'm craving after a year and a half of this lifestyle.

The point of my post? I'm not sure. Boys. Stay away from the creeps. Enjoy the nice ones.

Life goes fast, it's hard to make the good things last.

I visited Nicole today. Laying in the bed, if it weren't for the machines and monitors hooked up to her, I would have just thought her to be asleep, in a deep sleep. I held Nicole's hand and she held back, I rubbed Nicole's arm and she felt comforted. It was as if she responded to my touch but at the same she was not responsive at all. She was warm, which I was surprised by. I was then surprised by the surprise, I wasn't sure why was I expecting her to be cold, but I was. I spoke with her for a little while we were alone, I struggled with doing this. Going in there I had the intention of chatting to her about all sorts of things but once there I didn't know what to say beyond "Hey Nicole." Can I really tell her about my life? I can't ask her what's going on for her. I told her that I've been thinking of her every day. I told her I know she's strong and I'm proud of her. And then I stood next to her rubbing her arm until the family came back, it was nice to be by her side providing love and comfort.

Nicole's mum, Chris, wore a face of strength and bravery but below the facade you could clearly see and feel her intense anguish and grief. She is getting herself ready for this to be what her life is from now on. Mothering her grandchild and caring for her brain damaged daughter while keeping herself together and sober throughout. Chris spoke to Nicole with such tenderness and love, "that feels better now Nicole" as she rubbed cocoa butter into her hands and feet. She was a drained soul, weak and empty, but still was clinging onto something, whatever it is she can find to cling onto for the sake of Nicole, for the sake and Nicole's son. Such a strong woman to be able to endure this after already facing the death of her two eldest daughters. Incredible strength.

Nicole's partner's intense pain showed in his face a lot more. When I saw his face all I could think of was how I  would have felt if Cam had this happen to him. I couldn't begin to comprehend such torture. This pain is heightened by guilt of being the driver and walking away without harm. Dave tried to express to me how this torture feels but he couldn't. No one can take the burden and pain away from him, instead he has to sit with it and ride it out until it is time to feel relief. I watched Dave press the knuckles of his closed fist against Nicole's. I wondered if that was a unique thing to them and it made me think of the way Cam and I would scuff each others' palms. I pictured myself in Dave's position and Cam in Nicole's, if it were many years ago. My head dropped and I continue rubbing Nicole's arm.

Too tired to title (but not to alliterate)

When I was younger I thought, I genuinely believed, that males don't love like females do. I felt while females can fall in love and feel that full blown compassion and connection, males don't and perhaps can't. This was true, in my head, for both romantic relationships as well as father-child relationships. It's amazing how the messages we are fed as kids can impact on us as we grow. 'Males are self serving.' 'Males don't open their hearts.' 'Four legs good, two legs bad!'

It wasn't until a compassionate male fell in love with me that this misconception began to change. And even then, it took some time. Before Cam, I was seeing a boy who fit into this mentality I ran with quite nicely - he was a jerk, frankly. Enter Cam, stage right. Cam came into the picture and threw all what I had been told out the window. I was skeptical at first and needed convincing. It took me sometime to realise that he was for real when he expressed love towards me ("I am for reeeal", haha, remember Cam?). It was weird in the beginning, breaking down those beliefs that were firmly planted from a young age. I can faintly recall what it was like when the shift happened. I realised that Cam does love me as I did him and the same can be applied to the boys around me. I started seeing other relationships differently, I saw the male from a whole new angle.

A change in my thinking that fathers don't love their children came later (and perhaps these new beliefs are yet to be completely developed). The shift began when my eldest brother had his daughter. Of course Ben became a slave to the love he felt for his daughter when she was born - a strange thing to see. But seeing is believing, my friend, so I began to realise that fathers do feel love for their kids. As I continued to see more fathers this new belief strengthened and the misconception began to vanish. Although, still to this day traces of the old belief still remain, and it's no secret why this misguided idea has stuck. No secret why I feel surprised (?), unsure (?), relieved (!) when I see a male pushing a pram or holding his kid's hand.

You can always depend on the kindness of strangers

Kissing Kitten's snout tonight, right in that perfect spot, spooning her curled up body - a perfect fitting puzzle piece, and just to smell her (!) is blissful, just blissful. I love her so deeply, she is damn amazing.

This morning I woke without her in my bed, I did not know whether she was safe, how she was feeling, what she was doing - it was heart breaking. Today I put up lost posters. Poster after poster, each time I taped a poster to a pole I would see her gorgeous face smiling at me below the words 'LOST DOG.' Kitten's face should never be on a lost poster, I thought, to have to create this poster was crushing. The feeling that I would never see her again, that I would never hold her was more than I could bare. She was gone without a goodbye, I thought, without one last kiss. As I walked around Preston looking for Kitten I could feel the sun on my skin and sights of the beautiful world would ignite some excitement and happiness in me but then I would remember. I would remember and I'd ask myself if I could really enjoy these amazing things without Kitten, could I do anything without Kitten? Agony was felt, this feeling was sharp but short, it was replaced by numbness, an empty heart. I appreciated that numbness, I couldn't deal with the constant sharp pain of losing Kitten.

Lionel said to me 'what fucking good a microchip would do!' She would have to be turned in by someone for it to matter, and that wasn't going to happen, he told me. Are we really that horrible? I didn't put 'reward' on my posters. Seeing 'reward' on these posters angers me, how did this monetary reward bullshit begin? What sick bastard would only return someone's treasured friend to their loving home for a reward? Are we really that self serving? The night Kitten went missing a friend told me I can always depend on the kindness of strangers but I wondered, I was unsure.

When I saw Kitten walking the footpath on a lead, safe and happy, I couldn't be more relieved. The man who found Kitten was amazing, he really put himself out for the sake of my special girl. When she was lost and terrified in the storm he spent a great deal of time to catch her and he took her home and looked after her. I couldn't thank him enough; he saved my girl, kept her warm and happy and then brought her back to me. This man wasn't the only incredible person in this story; the person who messaged me after seeing a poster to wish me kind words in my troubled times was beautiful. The many people told us stories of hope as we taped up posters were lovely.That's what we are - Incredible. Beautiful. Lovely.

Fear and Ecsatsy in the Les Mills world

While team teaching yesterday I was fantasising about taking over the class, making it my very own permanent. Dreaming about this cute, comfortable class (which requires me to wake at 5:30 as opposed to 5) being mine, all mine. I'm not considering poisoning the class' current instructor, if that's how this has come across, but instead he is moving to America in 6 weeks. But they were just that, fantasies, I mean, 6 weeks (?!) come on! Nice to dream but I can't be taking my own classes in full in 6 weeks. I have a comfortable goal set for after the next release which is mid December.

During my participation in this morning's class, in a very Kristy way, I was shooting back and forth from thinking 'I can't be an instructor, it's just not in me! And do I even want to be?' to 'I can be great! Hell yeah I want this, this is my passion!' I think in the end I settled on the latter (and by 'I think' I actually mean, 'Hell yeah' :-p). After the class the instructor (a different one to Mr. going-to-America) said my naughtiest fantasies out loud, "you know, with Brad leaving you are in the perfect position to take his class over." You can't say those things! Or can she? And can I!? She said it with a straight face, no mockery there. And more than that, she said that of course I can ready in time!

Now blog, I feel like I am seeking guidance, like I need advice, I feel lost. But why? The path is clear, I talk to the coordinator about the possibility, I tell him I want that class. I work my arse off to be ready in time and I go for it, without hesitation. I said, "without hesitation," but still, I'm hesitating!

I think I have finally reached that point where it is actually hitting me that I am going to be an instructor. I have been living in this surreal, make believe land, I've just been going through the motions but not actually feeling it, nor believing it. Even when I have instructed, even my first time on stage - all a blur. The thought of having a class to call my own as being an actually possibility...omg, seriously, wow.

It's certainly been an interesting ride since the Body Step training, who would have thought the strain would be emotional as much as (or possibly more than) physical? The training weekend itself, which I don't think I told you about, dear blog, was certainly a damn hard physical test, 16 hours of training our bodies to be 'Body Step bodies' as they call it. And the emotional side, the pressures that we were put under, what we had to endure to pass. And I did that, I passed, so there must be some good fight in me! After that weekend came my emotional crash. A week of questioning everything, drinking, not exercising and smoking (smoking!?). After which I found Kristy again, remembered why I was in it, I felt the love for Body Step again and started training once more. The next emotional experience on my Body Step travels was my first stage appearance; shadowing the launch of 78! What this meant to me was incredible! To be part of this launch in such an important way, to be doing so in such an important class, with an amazing  instructor! And it was that, incredible and amazing, to say the least. Again, an emotional crash came, this one was shorter, perhaps 4 days and once again I remembered the passion and up I got. The next Body Step milestone was taking my first tracks. I chose tracks 5 and 6 from release 76 which is the release I fell in love with so hard you couldn't keep me away from Body Step even if you tried. Track 6 was the track I was assessed on and track 5 was the one I wish I was assessed on. It went well, for a first timer, I was pretty good. So I did not, just did not, see myself drinking Jim Beam in an emotionally shaken state that night, but again, the crash came. This one really blew me away, unlike the others it was fast and sharp. It hit as soon as the class finished, or much more accurately, as soon as the adrenaline rush was over. From the great emotional high I was on came a great fall, and I fell, like I say, into my friend Jim. But this was only the one night, although that night I thought there would be no way I'd instruct in 3 days time, the next morning I was up again and absolutely going to instruct again.

So that's where I've been, where I am going now? I have been sitting here thinking on how to answer that question and right now I don't know what to tell you, blog. I can't answer that question right now because I am going so fast from one extreme - not a chance I'm up there in 6 weeks, to the other - of course I can do it! From fearful to ecstatic! Questioning everything. If the previous pattern is anything to go by, this one shouldn't last through the night. Perhaps we'll talk again tomorrow and I'll tell you where I'm at then. Right now, time for Lentils baby!

Kristy's regular world again

In the office, 7pm, everyone has gone home for the evening, which is surprising for the people at this office but I suppose it is a Friday. The office is completely dark save a few monitors, I haven't bothered bringing light into the floor. I am here to collect my bags after just having left drinks with the work guys at the Bond Lounge and I am about to head to the gym. First I will have a protein shake, put on the dishwasher and take the tea towels for washing this weekend. Walking through the office, my mind distant with thoughts, I am shocked by the entire floor suddenly lighting up. I look up to see the walls light up a radiant orange and an instant later it is gone, darkness again. It is incredible how in an emergency situation, or perhaps just a situation you are unsure of, everything slows down. Your brain triggers the body's physiological responses and you are equipped to deal with the situation. In only a second your mind can have what seems like hundreds of calm and careful thoughts, as if someone has paused the spinning of the earth and said 'let me know when you're ready to play again.' In that second in which my world went from black to brightness my thoughts discussed the situation, 'what's that?' 'I'm not sure,' 'perhaps a terminal blew up,' 'it's coming from over there.' Although my thoughts were so responsive in the situation, it took so much longer, a couple of seconds, for my muscles to receive the message, for my head to turn towards the light. So I turned, and out the windows of the office, out in the city and across the Yarra I saw flames in the night sky. Huge fireballs, six or so, being blown into the air in a magnificent display. It is quite a scene, the power of the towers exploding the flames and in a moment they are gone, they became smaller and smaller balls of fire and then gone. Darkness again. I froze for a moment in awe of those few seconds in which my world slowed down close to a stop and then sped up again as the flames excited my mind and body. I froze for a moment, felt the warmth, the spark, the thrill and then all gone, I continued on my way to the kitchen, Kristy's regular world again.