Anxiety

Suck the air in.

Suck it up, slowly, slowly, slowly...

Fill your lungs to the brim till your chest can't take it anymore.

Hold it for a moment and don't you dare let that precious breath go to waste now you've worked so hard to catch it.

In that split second of relief with the twang of pain from your bursting lungs- look around.

Do it quickly, let your eyes dart, asses and re asses the room.

Yes, it's still all there and it's making you crazy but it's not moving, not going anywhere.

It will sit and stare back at you for as long as you let it, it's not the problem, you are.

It's all to much for you isn't it? It's making you burst just like that air in your chest.

Ah! Yes! The air in your chest- you forgot it was there didn't you?

You mistook your aching chest for your aching thoughts didn't you? You let the air stay just a bit too long and it's getting toxic now.

Didn't you know you shouldn't do that! Only hold it long enough to let your eyes dart, not linger!

That's always the problem, you want to own all your aches and let them take over you.

But don't let them! Let them out! Let them flow out of your body as you hiss the air out of your lungs. A fresh breath is just around the corner, you've just to let it all go!

So do it now! Don't wait!

Slowly, slowly, slowly...

Don't rush it now! Just let the air seep as if you've got a puncture, it takes time, it takes time.

And now look around. See, told you it's all still staring! You've done it! Nothings imploding or exploding, it's all just the same, it's all still the same.

a moment of me, a moment of God.

I feel the itch come over me, the itch to find the easy way out of feeling.

I feel the pinch, the pinch of fear that makes my brow tense and my jaw clench tight.

I feel the pound of a million drums, pounding away in the bones of my chest.

I feel the panic like no other panic, that seeps into my nerves and sucks out the rational me.

I feel the waves, swelling and surging, the waves of uncertainty pulling me, swallowing me.

I feel the flight of my frenzied thoughts, their frenzied, head spinning, to and fro.

I feel the ache, the ache of my heart- throbbing in my veins, pumping through my flesh.

I feel the grief that's stuck in my throat, that can't cry or weep or whimper or gasp or breath.

I feel the wildness flash in my eyes, the wildness of being out of control-instinctive and raw.

I feel a moment- of a thousand moments- a thousand feelings, a thousand words.

I feel every promise, every memory- all at once so real and up close.

I feel the raw surge of instinctive emotion, that takes a second and makes it a lifetime.

I feel human, I feel bare, stripped down to my bones, standing bare at the edge of suspended time and space.

But then I feel God's grace streaming through like a blinding searchlight looking for survivors, and before I can even tell, the flash in the pan is gone.

Winter

The winter has started scratching at our door.

It seeps through our house, it cools the bustling summer right down till everything is moving slow.

It chills my flight and frenzy to deep running thoughts and solemn pondering.

When I feel the winter coming, I can't help but let it dull me, it seeps through me just as it does the walls of this house.

It reminds me of all the things summer has let me forget.

It brings out the sensible me.

It turns the oranges and reds to lifeless grey scale.

It tugs the leaves right from their warmth and robs the trees of their blankets. Even the trees are solemn and dull, lifeless and still.

The sharp air brings with it the intention to change me, to restrain me, to make me listen.

I am to stay put and let the iciness still my flittering summer soul.

As I let it take a slow and firm hold, I am there, in that space, where God can speak to me, now that I am reverent and still.

My soul needs the winter. My heart needs to be cooled, so that the warmth of God's love can be felt filling me again.

Just as the trees stand bare, cold, waiting and waiting for the fresh touch of spring, so am I- here waiting.

Waiting for the Father to release me from my winter.

The inevitable blog

This is a blog that has been destined to happen since the day 'The Daily Ayly' set up shop here in blog town.

Actually I have been wanting so desperately to write about this 'thing', but have thought "Is it too early in my blogging career?" or "Is it too much to reveal?".

I can't wait any longer, the time has come...

TEN REASONS I LOVE TIM 'POORBY' GIRLING

1) He is a REAL man. Yes, none of this fairy flossed, city slicked, man-bag wearing, metro styling. MY man owns more than one flannelette shirt (don't be jealous ladies), he wears AVIATORS and the only jewelry you'll see is his wedding band. And although he has fine ankles and shapely legs, he WALKS like a man, with spunk and attitude.

2) He doesn't have heaps of chest hair. For this I am forever grateful.

3) Nine times out of ten he will stop me from embarrassing myself. Yes, this man knows me so well that he can predict when I am about to go 'to far'. With a quick look or a firm "Ayly..." I know that it's time to back down from my verbal post.

4) Poorby has a GREAT laugh. Chesty and deep, with a slight cackle at the end. You understand that when you earn his laugh you have TRULY impressed him with your humor. It is so worth trying to earn, it is INFECTIOUS and makes your laugh sound like a kitten that got trodden on.

5) He likes to sing in harmony. Yes, I know that you all wish that you had someone to "Take the top line" when need be. In the car, in the kitchen, out and about, I can always count on him to compliment my melodic stylings.

6) Tim is the BEST dad. No more said.

7) Tim knows heaps of mad facts about everything. He is the closest thing to Wikipedia you'll find in a human. He makes others envious with his vast knowledge on life and all it entails. He even knows that a car accident at 40 km/h can be fatal, he told me yesterday.

8) Poorby LOVES God. He is a man of the word and he LIVES it out. He never compromises his faith, he is not afraid to GROW in his faith and he doesn't hide it, he shines it!

9) He is the BEST friend you could ever have. Trustworthy and loyal. Fair and firm. Hilarious and ridiculous. He LOVES talking and you can have really good conversations with him. He isn't boring, in-fact he's down right INTERESTING.

10) He cleans the kitchen. EVERY NIGHT (well 99 percent of the time) he cleans up all my cooking mess. He even wipes the benches down. He is GREAT at loading the dishwasher.

So there you have it. My inevitable blog. It was bound to happen. I can't help but LOVE Poorby, and as you can see from my list, what NOT to love.

What a man.

'Vogue'cabulary

The following is a collection of words and sayings that have been 'in' at various stages of my upbringing.

I will note meanings just incase some of of you weren't 'down with the lingo' for one reason or another.

"I know you are, you said you are, but what am I?" The perfect come back to any insult/ name calling.

"Boys germs!!" Forget terrorism or natural disasters, these pose more of a threat to any 5 year old school girl.

"YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!" When an ordinary 'yes' just isn't enough

"Guess what? You flushed bugs bunny down the dunny and it wasn't very funny!" This insult was designed more to show off rhyming skills than it was to hurt feelings.

"Whoever smelt it, dealt it" Said to the first person to declare the presence of a fart. A poor attempt to place blame.

"Whoever denied it supplied it!" A classic and acceptable come back for the accused to fire back at finger pointers.

"Who ever started it, sharted it!!" Often the last ditch attempt at saving face. Yes, it has gone too far by now but lets face it, that kid is always the one taking jokes too far.

"Nigel no friends" This speaks for itself. You don't want to be one of these.

"Astalavista baby! I'll be back!" Thanks to the terminator himself, school kids had a new found farewell to wow their friends with.

"Mongulated" In reference to one being uncoordinated.

"Shotgun!" A fair claim for first dibbs on most objects such as chairs/ play equipment.

"Povo" Describing an object/ person as being below standard.

"Crap" The first official swear word said in many homes across Australia in the mid-nineties.

"Here's 40 cents, go call someone who cares" Ouch, that hurts.

"Your mother is so fat...." Ah yes, we'd all rather forget those jokes.

"Mad!" When something is utterly fantastic beyond logical description.

"Sick!" See mad.

"Fully sick!" Now, this one must ONLY be used whilst employing a fake Lebanese accent. Lets just say that many have tried, but not many have succeeded in pulling this one off.

"Like..." The modern day 'um'. Mostly like, used by those like, with poor sentence contructing skills, like.

"Stacked it" Fell over/ onto something.

"Punch a buggy" When a VW beetle passes by, you apparently have the right to punch the nearest person- oh- just as long as you say Punch a buggy.

"Jinx!" "Personal Jinx!" Jinx no return" etc etc OK so if you say something at the same time as another person they can declare jinx on you. Making sense? Didn't think so.

"A pinch and a punch for the first day of the month" Yes, you guessed it, you get punished for it being the 1st of the month.

"A hit and a kick for being so quick" Ah, thank goodness you have a comeback to defend yourself with against those 'first day of the month' bullies.

Ah yes, I could go on.

Good times. Goooooood times.

Dear Girling children.

Dear Girling children,

I wish to inform you that the 14 pieces of chewing gum you all shared this morning were for mummy, not for you.

Edan, toilet rolls are not for flushing, it worries me that you succeeded in doing so with a rather large one this morning.

Indiana, blistex is not hair gel, now your little sister looks like she's trying to be the fonz.

Mummy and Daddy's bed in not a trampoline or a writing pad, nor is it a toilet, please remember this in future.

Edan, eating left over sweet and sour sauce that you found in the bin with a spoon does not make it any more socially acceptable.

Indiana, your toothpaste artwork is not a wanted feature on our bathroom mirror, it does not enhance our decor.

Ava, growling from temper is not a behavior that you should even understand let alone act out as you do (so well).

We applaud imaginative dressing up in our house, but not when it involves mummy's baking paper.

'cake baking' should not be carried out when a banana and a 3 litre of milk are the only ingredients.

Indiana, you should consider trying a new brand of body paint, the brown one you're using at the moment smells bad.

Books are for reading not for ripping/eating/ paper fights.

I would appreciate the adjustments of certain behaviors in response to this most sincere letter.

Regards,

Your Mother.

Mind food.

This is a blog containing a series of thoughts that are at the forefront of my mind.

In no particular order...

Confrontation is ugly, but not near as ugly as fake happiness with another person.

Comfort zones often aren't where we're actually comfortable, just where we're stuck in the mud.

Future planning is only worth while if you put your hope into it.

The world say's put yourself first. Probably explains the mess we're in.

We say some people bring out the best in us, but the best in us should always be out.

Next time you say "I'm trying to..." think to yourself- "Am I?" the answer will shock you.

Loving people shouldn't be a hard choice- hating them should be.

God has no limits- we do- that's why we think it's absurd that God has no limits.

We need to accept that mystery is there for a reason and the reason is definitely not us needing to find out what the mystery is.

Living with the Holy Spirits guidance is like bowling with bumpers- He stops you from going side ways and keeps you headed towards your goal.

That is all- enjoy eating this delicious food for thought.

???

I'm sure at some point or another we have all thought questions such as:

Who am I really?

Where am I going?

What makes me, me?

Some people call it 'soul searching. Some people call it being unsure, lost even.

Some people think they are foolish for pondering, some people spend all their time doing it with no result.

But it is interesting all the same.

I have wondered often, about life and what it entails, what it means even. I used to, as a young child, sit and try to contemplate true nothingness which I still find a mind boggling exercise (try it sometime).

I have wondered on occasions whether I am made up of my experiences, or whether is fact they are made up of me. I have ached to know where my identity lies in this chaotic world.

After I became a mother, I became very consumed by my children and somedays I felt my identity had been lost all together, after all, I was pouring more and more of myself into them.

It never occurred to me (really) that complicated wonderings such as these could have such simple answers.

Who am I really? I am God's child, a woven and textured creation brought into being by the creator of all things.

Where am I going? To meet my maker and to be in his company for eternity, learning from him, praising him and basking in his radiance.

What makes me, me? My gifts, talents and passions that are God given, and my decisions on how I use them, whether that is for their true intention or not.

And no matter where life takes me or what changes from day to day, these fundamental questions will always have the same answers.

When I was younger, I felt like it should be more complex, more complicated than this. But it isn't! We spend so much time searching that sometimes we miss the point completely. Sometimes we are afraid of the simple answers, the simple outcomes, because it might mean less wondering and more doing.

While it is good to ask the questions, remember that they all have answers and some of them might demand a change in you!

So who are you? Who are you really?

Where are you going?

What makes you, you?

The grudge that stole christmas

Grudge.... hmmm... grudge grudge grudge.

A word that rubs shoulders with grime and drudge,

And keeps company with hurt and sting and sludge.

Grudggggge, grudge....

Your ugly slime sits in the pit of my gut,

Turning my niceness to grimy black smut,

Sucking my principals into your rut.

Grudge. Grudge. Grudge.

If I let you stay you will feed away, slowly rotting me all the way through.

If I give you a home you will feed to my bones and I'm left with nothing but you.

All. Consuming. Grudge.

Scowl and hissssss, frown and dissssss,

All. Consuming. Grudge.

Hmph and sigh, slander and lie,

All. Consuming. Grudge.

What a monster you are like a fat and fed leech, and yet your mind is not your own.

For it's my thought and deed on which you feed, it's my heart in which you've grown.

It's my deep seeded want to judge and to taunt that allows you to pulsate and thrive,

I must starve you of what you need from me in order for you to survive...

Grudge. Grudge. Grudge.

Indiana Faith Girling. Minister of mischief.

Today's blog is dedicated to my daughter Indiana.

This blog entails a collection of injuries/ accidents that my beautiful girl has inflicted upon herself in her less than 2 short years. I will indulge with story telling of just a few :)

Indiana ate too much cucumber at a Church picnic. (approx half a large cucumber). We stopped in on the way home to get Edan some baby panadol. From the drivers seat, I heard a strange noise and then it happened, Cucumber showers. Worst clean up job of spew nature in our short family history.

We were at a fellowship morning tea at a dedication one fine day. All the kids were playing in the turfed area and playing in the san pit- was a lovely thing. Then we turn around to see that a little girl had offered Indiana a pretend cup of tea (which was actually a cup full of sand with a spoon in it) from information gathered from other small children we deduced that she had consumed no less than half the cup of sand. 5 days of illness due to catching giadia- a playground bug picked up because cats do thier bizzzz in sandpits across the globe.

Indiana was having party times jumping on our bed one day. She jumped to enthusiastically and fell through a large pane of glass in our window. Indiana was fine (thank God!!) the window however cost $300 to replace.

One day I had killed a wolf spider about the size of my palm outside our dining room door to the patio. I thought I would leave it until i could sweep it off later (when it had fully deceased) Of course I forgot all about it. A couple of days later Indiana was playing outside and crawled though the cat flap on the door. She was spitting out what I thought were little sticks and then what appeared to be a round disc. On closer inspection I found the the sticks were legs and the disc was the plate off the spiders belly. She had eaten all the good bits. I had a conversation with the toilet bowl shortly after.

Indiana had an obsession with my Nanna's african violets. Whatever potting mix Nanna was using, she found quite tasty. One day Nanna and I caught her with a fist full of dirt from one pot. Upon getting caught she quickly proceeded to shove the whole lot in her mouth and eat it. mmm mmm, african violet crumble!

That is all for now.

I am living the dream :)

OK- so maybe you know maybe you don't.

I have 3 children- my eldest just having turned 3 a month ago.

I am 22 years old (so is my hubby) and we live on a salary lower than most Australian families living in 5 member households.

We can't afford childcare (even if we could there is an extreeme shortage of placements), we have to rent our home because a) we can't even entertain the idea of a mortgage at this point in time and b) we can't loan money from the bank because we've never been in debt and therefore don't have a credit rating.

I work if I can (but only a little because centrelink will punish me if I earn a couple of bucks to much) so I contrubute little financial support to my household.

Our bills are higher than most because the children and I are at home everyday sucking up lots of gas, electricity (which is going to get worse over the winter) and water.

Over half of our grocery bills each week goes on baby essentials (mappies and formula).
Leaving us to stick to a very tight menu plan and budget.

OK- I could go on and on and on and on!

There is a point to what I'm saying.


I choose to stay at home and be a full time mother/ housekeeper/ chef etc etc. We are a single income family and we have no children in care at all. We do not live in debt even though it is hard not to in these times.

To me- this is mine and my husbands choice- we are not forced to live this way. We do struggle but we live what USED to be the australian dream (minus owning our home).

Mothers used to be happy toiling at home and familes lived a much more basic existence.

I go through constant questioning from a variety of poeple asking why I don't work or why I don't have the kids in childcare. We cringe at people we know who whinge about money but seem to blow it any chance they get.

In all our attempts as a society to achieve "the dream" we have put unnecessary restrictions on ourselves and a pressure to perform/ live a certain way and to want certain things for ourselves.

People assume that you must be living the dream if you can work (but not too hard) own a home (but be in 30 years debt for it) own a car or two (those of which the repayments cut into your grocery money) be a mum (but not be at home to care for your kids) be fit (but pay $100 a week at a gym for the privieldge) etc etc.

Our freedom does seem so "un-free" doesn't it?

It seems after some looking into it, that I am even obligated to search for a job after all 3 of my kids are in school for a couple of years, even if I don't want to!

You may have thought (from the first part of my blog) that I was whinging about how hard my life is logistically and financially.
But I want to add an ending to my opening statements.
And that is that although life is hard and we do struggle along in our own ways- we live a safe, secure, happy, honest and hardworking existence. We as our little group of 5, live as well as we can with what we have. We do not live outside our means. We want for nothing- our children are happy and well looked after. It is hard- yes- I live against what society is saying is acceptable. But at the end of the day I have a freedom that not many other people have. I am not tied down by debts- I am not obligated to have my children in care because I have to work or anything of the sort.

I am living the dream!