Author: lucy

The first few weeks were bliss. We had managed to finally pick up breastfeeding, after some early troubles and tears from the both of us. We had found our groove. We were off, and I was so happy. I had hoped that we would be able to do it and had been told that the first 2 weeks are the hardest, if you can get through that you can definitely do it. I always kept this in mind when we were finding it exceptionally difficult. You were amazing, such a beautiful, happy bub.

We had taken you home from the hospital back to the house we were staying in in Townsville. We had started to settle into life there. Despite being sore from birth and exhausted, we kept going. You fed well, you slept well and you were just perfect. We had visitors in the first few days, including my Mum and sister, E. It was so lovely to have that time, especially in the beginning. We went on lots of adventures with Miss A at the beginning. We went to the shops and even went for a cocktail lunch at the Ville. S had told me that there was no point being cooped up, we may as well get out with her and enjoy things while we were in Townsville for the few weeks. He was right (if only had remembered that when we got home).

We had a newborn photo session with Miss A, and after a few more days we ventured home to Bunda with her. She was 10 days old by this stage and it was the Easter weekend. She handled the 7 hour drive home like a little champ and we started to settle back in to life in our little cottage at Bunda.

We had so many visitors over the first few months, and Miss A was so good about it all. She loved the company and meeting new people. Life seemed to be going well. I however struggled with the influx of people in our small space, it was great that people visited, but it was exceptionally overwhelming. It became difficult when Miss A hit her 4 month sleep regression, and cried a lot, did very little sleeping, and we were all so exhausted. This was extremely trying. I thought it would get better. It in fact got worse.

And out of the blue one day, I realised that I had entered this vicious cycle of self-hate and constant disappointment in myself and my ability to parent my own child. I hated it all. I woke up each day, dreading the day ahead. I had become so obsessed with her sleep, and how long she would sleep during the day, because she wasn’t fitting the mould. She had gone from an amazing all round sleeper to a really shitty day time sleeper. Night times were still good, and she had begun to sleep through the night. Which made things difficult. Any time I spoke to someone about how much of a terrible day time sleeper she was, but she slept through the night, their first response was “at least it’s not the night time” or “you can put up with that”. Which I found so invalidating. The hardest part was there was absolutely no break during the day. She would sleep for half an hour and 15 minutes of that was with me holding her. So no, it doesn’t matter at what point of the day your baby does not sleep, it is still hard.

This period of anxiety and depressive episodes was fuelled by the loneliness of becoming a mother and the pressure of becoming a mother determined to break the cycle of generational trauma. It lasted for several weeks, possibly even months.

Each day had become harder than the last. I wasn’t coping with S being away for work. We fought a lot, and often. It was beyond crazy. I was envious that his life hadn’t changed and mine had become so unimportant. But to Miss A, I was her whole world. And I lost sight of that. I lost a lot of time, and I wish I could get it back, but unfortunately, I can’t. The guilt associated with that will stay with me for a long time.

In this instance I am so thankful I had the foresight to ensure my mental health would be looked after prior to giving birth. I saw a psychologist twice prior to birth and was prepared for the toll having a baby would have on my mental health. I honestly can say I have no shame in speaking with a psychologist on a regular basis. I will always advocate for mental health, as it is vital to look after your mental health just as much as your physical health. My own ability for self-reflection also allows me to unpack my own actions and those around me. Allowing me the ability to understand things a little better. We could all benefit from speaking to a psychologist at some point in our life.

It wasn’t until I pulled myself out of the pit that I had been stuck in that things got better. I had been constantly googling, constantly questioning all my decisions. One day whilst having conversation with my boss about how much I was struggling with it all, she told me that it doesn’t matter. All the crap about wake windows, and how your baby should go to sleep at this time etc etc is all so dangerous. “How does your baby know it’s 7pm?” she said. And wasn’t she right. How does your baby know it’s 7pm and she should be in bed? How does she know she has been awake for exactly 2 hours and should magically be ready to go to sleep? With that I realised that the entire sleep industry for babies is a scam. It is fear mongering at its finest. They prey on mums who are doubting themselves, mums who haven’t been around babies a lot. Which happens a lot nowadays, as there are smaller family groups and less involvement in family raising. Wow. I had let myself be told by complete strangers on the internet that I didn’t know what I was doing with my own baby. I had let them tell me there was a mould she was meant to fit, and that there was something wrong with me and my baby. What a joke?! I am forever grateful for the wisdom and confidence in being a mother that she has. It has given me the confidence to take my own lead, and I honestly hope that I can be half the mum that she is. She is an exceptional mother and I am truely grateful to have her in my life.

A vale had lifted and I had realised just how big you had grown and how beautiful you truely are. A happy content bub, who just needed her mum. Each day got a little bit easier and I had finally accepted you for who you were and not what you should be. You are perfection Miss A. I had realised just how bad ass I was. I had not only grown a whole human, I had birthed her, and subsequently fed her from my body for 4 months already. She was thriving and I was an absolute goddess! What an incredible feeling, knowing that I had done this, my body had kept her alive, and she was thriving. I had reached heights I never thought possible for myself.

If there is any advice I can give to new mums, it would be to follow your babies lead. Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t know what is best for you and your baby. Follow your babies lead and intervene where necessary. Ask for help if you need it, don’t be ashamed to ask someone in your life, that you trust for help, or just to vent to them about how hard your day has been, because it is bloody hard being a mum. Also, it really does get better. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it does. Just hang in there.

And always remember, you are your baby’s whole world and you are doing an amazing job.

It is a strange thought that women’s bodies are built to withstand childbirth. The physical and emotional aspects of such a trauma inducing experience and we just get on with life the next day. As a first time mum, I can safely safe that nothing prepared me for what I was in for in the birthing suite. No amount of reading or research could have ever prepared me for the experience that would forever change me.

I had prepared myself for the idea that we would have weeks left before meeting our little one. But one Saturday, a few days before the due date, our little one decided to stop moving. Panic set in. One phone call later and we were on our way to the hospital to be checked out. By this time it was already early evening. The birth suite was full with other expecting mothers and we had an anxious wait, until we were finally seen. I was instantly strapped up to the CTG machine to monitor baby’s heart-rate and movements. Movements had decreased, heart-rate was fine but my blood pressure was exceptionally high. The decision was made for us to stay in overnight for monitoring and an ultrasound the following day to see what was happening. By this time it was 10.30pm and we were both exhausted. I made the call for S. to head home at midnight, as there was no point him sitting there in the most uncomfortable chair in the hospital, attempting to sleep. He was better off being at the house in bed.

This was an exceptionally long night for me. This was my first ever hospital stay, in my life, and I was scared for us both. The potential outcome of this was so unknown. Would we be okay? Would everything go as planned? Or at least somewhat as planned. I had to always remind myself that even if it didn’t go “as planned” that that would be okay-the safety of us both was what was most important. The next morning saw me moved to the maternity ward, where I would await the ultrasound to check our little one.

The doctor came around, and dependent on the ultrasound results, but more likely than not, I would be induced as there was a number of concerns, including the reduced fetal movements and high blood pressure, as well as the reduction in stomach size, indicating a stall in growth, later picked up in the ultrasound. Our induction was booked. The process would begin on Monday evening.

Monday evening rolled around, and I was taken across to the birth suite to begin the induction process. A balloon catheter was to be inserted and removed on Tuesday morning. This procedure was exceptionally uncomfortable. Possibly the worst pain I have experienced. And I was prescribed endone and a sleeping pill in order to get some sleep in preparation for our big day. One of the hardest parts about the extended stay in the hospital was being alone. It was my first stay in hospital, let alone the fear associated with everything that was happening.

Tuesday morning saw the midwives retrieve me and take us across to the birth suite for the balloon removal and subsequent induction using oxytocin. There was a wave of emotions and contractions almost immediately and it had begun. The next few hours were filled with intensified contractions and lots of jokes and banter between S and our midwife. Many of which I did not find funny at the time, and I sure as hell let S know. But it was great, our midwife was incredible and S planned on helping deliver our little one into the world.

Lunch time rolled around and we had been in so many different positions just trying to breathe through the contractions, using the floor, balls and the shower. Things had just started to ramp up as my midwife was about to go for a quick lunch, she decided to stay, and shortly afterwards I felt an overwhelming need to push. My entire body had taken over and I was no longer able to subdue the urge. Upon checking, we were 100% ready to go. Our little one was ready to enter the world. At 1:30pm I had entered active labour. This was it. We were ready to go. The hardest thing I had ever had to do in my life. However, our little one had become stuck, the head was not descending as needed and the heart-rate had dropped significantly, down to 60 BPM. Stress. Both of us. All of us. The room flooded with people, doctors, NICU staff, people everywhere. Panic set in. My midwife got my attention, she looked at me and said “I know you have noticed the room fill with people, but I want you to just focus on me and nothing else”. She coached me through the next stages as they performed an episiotomy. And at 2:10pm our little one was welcomed into the world. Into our loving arms.

We spent the next few hours in the birth suite bonding and feeding. Wrapped up in our arms. Our own little one. Ada Rose Ackerley.

A list of complaints, of which I am entitled to complain about, because it is my experience, is something I often reel off when talking to friends or my sister on the phone. I am fully aware that many have it worse off than I do, this does not mean that my experiences are not valid in any sense. One thing that has become apparent throughout this pregnancy is the overwhelming sense that you must enjoy every moment. You should be happy, grateful, overjoyed, fully and completely enveloped in all aspects of just how wonderful being pregnant is. This is true a lot of the time, for a lot of women. But the complete opposite is just as normal too. I have always felt ungrateful and exceptionally guilty for these types of thoughts. Every time I wallow in self-pity about just how hard things are, I am constantly sucked into a guilt-ridden vortex. I should be grateful, I shouldn’t complain. Unfortunately, it isn’t that simple. Women are not being listened to. The toll that growing a life can take on one’s physical and mental health is extraordinary. Because so many women are shut down about their experiences, the blissful, wondrous experiences are the ones that take over. To this I say a huge eff you to society, to those that thinks it’s okay to shame women for talking about how hard they are finding pregnancy. To those that think they can tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing or eating or that I should be exercising. I am doing this in whatever way works for me. Whatever gets me through each day until the day I finally get to meet you and hold you in my arms. I am growing this baby and I will be the one who decides just how I feel about my journey.

I also want to stress that despite that fact that I have found this difficult, I am grateful to have been able to grow you inside me, been able to keep you safe and well. I am not being ungrateful in any form at all. I know that there are many many women out there who are not able to conceive, or who have lost babies. However, that should not overrule, or be a reason for others not to talk about the not so great experiences they have had with pregnancy. We all deserve to be heard.

In saying all this I know I have been incredibly lucky throughout my pregnancy. Life hasn’t been too difficult in the grand scheme of things. I have not been plagued with any real sickness or illness. Fatigue, to the point where I couldn’t function properly, daily, throughout my first trimester and well into my second trimester is possibly one of the overarching issues I have had.  The first trimester is possibly the hardest of them all, because you are trying to act normal and function as per normal, whilst keeping your little babe a secret-if that is your choice. And this is the time when it is just your little precious one and you. The little bubble of knowing that you are growing something so small and only you and your partner know about it is bliss.

Alongside the physical growth of your baby comes the mental side effects. Of which some people suffer hugely, and others not so much. I lost a lot of my mental capacity to function at a normal level. I have spent hours upon hours crying over you. Oh Baby. What will life be like when you are finally here? I have grown you inside of me for months now. Not knowing who you will be and what you will become? Will I be a good parent? Will life be easy or hard? You are a blessing in every sense, but I can’t stop my mind thinking all these things as your arrival comes closer. One thing I have found upon entering the initial stages of becoming a parent, or basically just thinking about being a parent, is the overwhelming fear of becoming the worst sort of parent. I know no one sets out to intentionally be a bad parent, they are only going off what they have been modelled themselves. The fact that all these sorts of things have already gone through my mind, and I haven’t even given birth yet, are somewhat reassuring in a sense. It reminds me that I am already aware of what sort of parent I want to be (whether that goes to plan or not is a different story). More importantly, I am aware of exactly what sort of parent I don’t want to be.

I am incredibly lucky in that I have some excellent models in my life of which I am grateful for. I have had the opportunity to also work within a family whom I believe have been crucial in teaching me some important lessons.

I also have spent a lot of time and energy trying to accept that this journey is something that I will have little control over. This little babe will be running our life for some time, as it will dictate just how we manage day to day activities. A newborn is a whole new world of its own.

And soon there will be 3 of us, not just 2. And I cannot wait to watch you grow and to watch S become a father. Something I know he will be exceptionally good at.

I cannot wait to meet you.

It has been six months since receiving my diagnosis.

PCOS.

Metabolic Dysfunction.

Your weight gain is not your fault.

Your cravings are out of your control.

Your body doesn’t function in a ‘normal’ way.  

You are not to blame for your condition.

You are worthless.

You aren’t doing enough.

You will never gain control.

Everything happens for a reason.

You were never meant to be a mother.

You need to work harder.

You are not enough.

These are some of the things that have run through my mind, along with many more.  In this situation, I think it is completely normal to feel and think these things, to be overwhelmed and have trouble accepting. However, to have these things voiced to you by the people you are supposed to trust for support and love is the hardest to hear. Maybe they have thought about these things, which are perfectly fine, but to physically say them is just heartless. “It’s probably all psychological”, “You don’t know until you try” or “You’re getting older now, you don’t want to be in your thirties when you have children”. Sure. These are all things that have run through my mind too. Things are never that simple though. It is not as simple as popping out a few children. Unfortunately, it is near enough impossible to survive on a single wage in this time, with the increasing cost of living and housing prices. There is nothing wrong with setting yourself up. Setting your life up so you don’t struggle, and have every opportunity to succeed. Sacrificing now, for later. We miss so much at home, nieces and nephews growing up, seeing our family, missing milestones. But we know all this already. We know that there are aspects of life that we don’t get to experience. But we probably wouldn’t get to experience a lot of these things even if we were close. We barely ever saw anyone when we were living in Victoria. People didn’t come to our house, we rarely went to theirs, and we were busy living our own lives. Something that we are doing here as well. The quality of time we spend with our families when we do see them outweighs all the time we would probably spend with them throughout the year. We are able to call, Facetime and communicate with those that want to still be involved in our lives. Distance shouldn’t change your relationship with the people. For us, this is our sacrifice, living so far away. But I can say with certainty it doesn’t feel like a huge sacrifice, because both S and I love our jobs and don’t ever feel the need to be anywhere else but here.

The hardest part about the words that get thrown at you are that you’ve already thought them hundreds of times over. Your mind has already been through this process before. When you’ve spent 45 minutes crying on your shower floor because you’re overwhelmed with the conflicting thoughts in your head. The weeks you’ve spent focusing on your exercise and eating to only have gained your weight back again in a short period of time. That one time it hurt you so much to hear that another person in your life is having their own miracle. And then the consequential feelings of guilt for the hurt you feel, because you really are happy for them. It is hard to accept that if, and when, we decide to start that chapter of our life the journey probably won’t be as straight forward as it is for so many. It takes time to process all medical diagnoses and everyone deals with them in their own way. For some, this might not feel like such a big deal, it isn’t a life threatening condition. However, it is forever. No matter what I do, I will always have this condition, and it will affect all aspects of my life. From the way my body processes food, to the way I exercise. I wake up with no energy some days, after having the most rest. It is all part of a cycle filled with varying symptoms, which I am working hard to reduce (which has been proven possible by so many).

The last six months have been packed with a myriad of emotions. There have been days I have struggled to ‘get on with it’. There are always feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing. A constant hole, an emptiness, that isn’t always easy to get past. I can honestly say that I have focused solely on my health, both mentally and physically more than ever in my life. But from all this I have learnt that I am strong. Stronger than I ever thought I possibly was. I strive to do better. I focus my energy on making myself the strongest that I can be. People will always have their opinions about just how you should manage your condition. Particularly when they don’t know anything about it. Ignorance is the cause of so many problems. It really comes back to the saying, “if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say it at all” and it is so true. Your words damage, even if you think they are coming from a good place. You never know exactly what people are going through and just how much your words can undo all their hard efforts. Placing an emphasis on their failures can only do more harm.

Beautiful North-west Queensland has stolen a piece of my heart, and I am not ready to leave it yet, nor am I certain I will ever be ready.

Once a year the Mums and Govies from all over the north converge on Mount Isa for 4 days of school and seminars, all designed to help out in your isolated classroom. As well as catching up with families and friends you only see once or twice a year.

It doesn’t sound like a lot, but some people have travelled over 1000 km to be there for their children. Moreover, for some, it is just too far to be feasible. The week is divided into many wonderful face-to-face school days, which the kids absolutely love! Attending a regular day of school for children, who are usually in an isolated classroom, can be filled with so much excitement. They get to spend time with their much-loved teachers, friends and peers. Traditional school based activities such as school photos; collective music lessons and a sports day on the Friday are all an integral part of Home Tutor week.

There is also the opportunity for the parents and govies to network with each other, and just have a good old fashioned catch-up, something that can be few and far between in the outback. The govies set a night, usually a Thursday, to head out for dinner, have a few drinks and swap schoolroom and station stories. Some come from the bigger stations, that have large numbers of staff others from smaller places where they are the only ones with the family. All in all everyone has a great time sharing aspects of their life, and gaining some great knowledge and helpful tips for school and life in general.

It is important, before I continue too much further, to make the distinction between the term ‘Home Tutor’ and ‘Govie or Governess’. Home Tutor refers to a Mum (or parent) who is teaching her own children, and a Govie or Governess refers to a paid employee who teaches the children on the parent’s behalf.

For the Home Tutors and Govies, the seminar runs on Wednesday and Thursday and usually consists of a keynote speaker and varying workshops that are all based around one central theme. This year’s theme was ‘Foundations’-focusing on the basics of behaviour and emotions all while incorporating self-care and the importance of looking after your needs before others. I found this so enriching, and empowering. As my incredible journey progresses I have become so much more aware of my own needs and have become perfectly capable of creating distance where needed. The chance to gain some one-on-one time with some great teachers and guest-speakers is so important, and having the ability to learn new ideas and take something back to your classroom whether it is behavioural management, technology advice or discovering new aspects of learning to implement in your classroom.

It is interesting to note that the amount of knowledge and growth I have gained in the last two and a half years working and living in North-west QLD has been phenomenal. This has a lot to do with the people that I surround myself with in my everyday life, and the variation in circumstances and experiences I have had. My ability to resolve and process my own emotional problems is a huge one. Also not relying on anyone heavily for anything is something I have learnt. I don’t spend all my time trying to people please anymore. Honestly, it is not feasible. I can’t be there for everything I want to be, and that’s 100% okay. For S and I, this is a huge opportunity, in more than one single way. We are able to financially set ourselves up for the future we want, as well as working on our own strengths and growth mindsets. The skills I am learning inside the classroom and house are things I would never have been able to gain staying put, in the safety of my comfort zone. I have learnt how to survive in circumstances that are out of my control. I have been physically isolated from civilization for weeks at a time, I have learnt how to educate children of varying age groups (including just how much work goes into the basics of reading and writing-which has given a new found appreciation for the work teachers undertake). My job encompasses so many other roles. I have been a cook, a cleaner, a temporary mother, a vet, a govie, a ringer, a gardener, a friend, a wife and so much more. Within all these responsibilities, I have become so much more aware of who I am.

I also want to add that I have one of the most incredible bosses. She has taught me so many things, both indirectly and directly. I have been blessed to be able to gain some very important knowledge and advice from her, and I honestly think that I have grown so much purely because of her guidance.

We grow and we learn, and sometimes the best things in life come from the hardest decisions you could make. I will no longer spend my time justifying my life choices to those around me. It is my life, and I can say I am enjoying every single moment of this crazy life I lead. In all honesty, I don’t think I would change a single thing.

All too often we go through life not even knowing something is wrong with us. Most things sit silently inside us, waiting for the right time to present itself. You can be living your life, thinking that things are completely normal  and then all of a sudden you get hit with the real truth of it all. An explanation for everything.

As I write this, I am thinking about life as a whole. We really are quite pathetic creatures when you think about it. We are born, it takes us about 12 months to even start walking on our own, and we stay with our parents until we are around 18 years old. In comparison with the rest of the world, most creatures achieve so much more in that short amount of time (excusing the fact they probably don’t live quite as long).  But life can be filled with unknowns.

Not even a month ago, life was going along quite well, things were fine. Then, as quickly as anything, your life is thrown into a spiral of unknown. Illness can strike anyone, at any time. You can be healthy as an ox, and still have something go wrong. For me, the waiting is the killer. My brain goes into overdrive, imagining the worst possible outcomes of every situation. Constant panic and anxiety have filled my life for the last few weeks. I don’t actually know how I have managed to keep it together for my kiddos each day. But somehow I show up, I teach, and then I spiral back into my own secluded world of self-made despair. 

For me, the QLD health system was incredible, and within 3 months I had been given a diagnosis – something that can take other women years to achieve. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), affects one in ten women in their reproductive years. It is a common hormonal condition, which, unfortunately, is for life. It is hereditary and often goes undiagnosed in so many women. It is extremely disruptive to the body and mind of the women who have this condition. Irregular menstrual cycles, skin troubles, excessive hair growth or loss, fatigue, chronic weight problems, as well as cysts on the ovaries leading to fertility issues, are all part of the variety of side effects associated with the condition. Those close to S and I will know that children are a huge part of our future. And knowing that this may be extremely difficult, or not be possible, broke my heart. S is, as always, extremely supportive in every single aspect. For this I am eternally grateful. He has that approach to life. “Why worry about it now, we will know more and deal with it when we come to that” he always tells me. Unfortunately for me I am the complete opposite, I will worry about these things until it becomes almost irrational, until it makes me sick. It’s just not in my nature to be any other way. 

Unfortunately PCOS is not curable, and has to be managed, without much help from healthcare professionals. There is a blanket approach to the condition, which involves taking Metformin (a diabetes drug) and getting plenty of exercise whilst restricting carbohydrates. I am slowly discovering this is not the way I want to live my life. It makes me extremely angry that there isn’t more guidance and help out there. And I’m sure that this is the same across the board with many other diseases and conditions. I have always struggled with a lot of the side effects of PCOS, without even knowing that this was the cause. My weight has always been a huge problem, gaining it easily, and finding it extremely difficult to lose it. I have never had a regular and reliable menstrual cycle, which comes with its own difficulties. This in turn is the reason why so many women have issues conceiving. If your menstrual cycle is not regular, then eggs aren’t being released from the ovaries regularly. Meaning conception can be extremely difficult. It is not impossible, but I can only imagine the stress of the process would be extremely exhausting and mentally draining. 

This entry is not a ‘poor me’ piece. It is an awareness piece. So next time you ask someone “when are you having a baby?” or “are you pregnant yet?” just think about what that could possibly do when you say that. They may have been struggling for years to fall pregnant. They may have already fallen pregnant and suffered a loss. They may have PCOS, Endometriosis or other fertility issues. Or they simply may not be ready for that chapter of their life, now or ever. This simple question can have so many flow-on effects. So next time you decide that it is your business to know, just remember, it’s actually not your business to know that, because you do not know the circumstances surrounding that topic whatsoever. 

More information and support can be found through the following links:

Resources for Women with PCOS – Monash Centre for Health Research and Implementation (MCHRI) 

Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) 

PCOS Awareness Association 

With such a topsy-turvey year, it is hard to believe that it is already October, bordering on November. This year I have tried to write so many times, and it has been more than infuriating. Writing has been so completely off my radar.

I am sure that my life is just ticking away, without so much as a second glance back at the things that have passed.

This year I have grown as a person. I have watched some of the people I love suffer through the most traumatic events, and come out the other side. I have sat helplessly on the sideline, waiting, watching, whilst praying that everything would be okay. The strength exhibited by the women in my life has given me the hope, and ability to get through the every day struggles of my life. Knowing that I couldn’t help in any way. I couldn’t even be in the same state, making it extremely difficult. I wanted to be there so desperately but that choice was not in my hands anymore. I have become stronger, and can only hope that their stories remain with me forever as guidance and examples to follow in times that are trying.

Throughout the year, life has been a series of testing events. Along the way I have learnt some serious life lessons.

This year has been one of the strangest years of my life. With everything that is happening around the world I have been sitting here silently, keeping my words to myself. It has been a year of reflection for me so far. I have learnt that no matter what life throws at me I am stronger than I ever thought capable. I know that this is only the case because some of the strongest and bravest women that I have ever known surround me. I look up to them, even if they are not aware of it. I value their knowledge and words of wisdom. 

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This year has also taught me that you can’t always help everyone. Some people are doomed to live in a cycle of event that only they can drag themselves from. For those that know me well they will know that I am a giver. I have always been that way. I take people under my wing, I make them feel welcome in my life and my family, and I always help wherever I can. This year I have been stretched to my limit. Unfortunately, the downside of this is that people tend to use you and chuck you away just as easily. My emotional cup is empty. I have given all that I can give to the people around me, and unfortunately some have thrown it back in my face too many times.  The time spent on emotionally investing in people’s lives and problems has completely overwhelmed me this year, and honestly, I have run dry. It took me some time to realise that I needed to step away from this. This was something I found extremely difficult, as I care so much about the people in my life. I am honestly mentally exhausted from it all.

This year I have learnt that life really can deal you a bad hand, and that unfortunately can come from those in your inner circle. Those you love and trust the most. So for now, I have distanced myself from being so personally involved, and am focusing on me. My happiness and mental health are extremely important, and I have neglected them in the past, whilst using all my energy to make sure that everyone else is okay. I have decided that it’s my turn to be selfish and focus on me. This also involves a huge amount of guilt, which I have to deal with in my own way.

The trip home over the wet made things all very hard again. I have so much going on within my family that I felt like I was abandoning them. The tears were hard to hold back as we ventured off once again to Queensland. It was something that I really struggled with personally this time, as I feel like I am taking for granted some of the time I have with my loved ones. I feel slightly selfish for being so far away from them all, but at the same time, I love what I do, and I think I work for one of the best families. My kids are great, and they really do love me. Somehow I will always have a small piece missing when I am up here, and my family are all the way down there. I still wonder whether we are making the right decision, but then I remember that it is probably one of the best decisions we have made in our whole life.

“He who is not courageous enough to take risks will
accomplish nothing in life.” -Muhammad Ali

It has been a while between writings, and I feel a little out of sorts getting back into it all. Our second year on station started earlier than expected, so we could manage everything while the family was away taking the oldest to boarding school in Townsville. We prayed and prayed for rain, hoping that with it would come a good season, and the family could have an extended holiday. Which they so desperately needed and deserved.

And it sure did deliver. The rain came late one Friday afternoon, bringing with it the oncoming isolation of which I had never before experienced. ‘Cabin fever’ is a popular term for the relatively common reaction to being isolated in the one place for a long period of time. And for me this happened suddenly and it was one of the most bizzare, and completely insane moments of my life. Never before had I been stuck, with no option but to stay in that place. I was physically cut of from any form of society. S and I only saw each others faces for 3 weeks, and to be honest we definitely got sick of each other. It started out fun, we would do the jobs we needed to, then spend the day looking at the country flourish in the wet.

It was so beautiful watching the transformation of the land, with only the slight amount of rain received. But it didn’t stop. It just kept raining. The rain stopped for several days, and there was a glimmer of hope that we would get out, but then it just rained again. And it was in the last week that it truly hit me. I had basically become a huge emotional mess, which is unusual for me really. I have to have a very good reason to be emotional about my life. And for anyone reading this, thinking how ridiculous it must be to be on this crazy level of emotions, I just want you to think about being trapped in your own home, with no face-to-face contact with anyone else, except your partner and your dog. Now this might seem like a dream to some people, but in reality, it is actually super isolating and incredibly lonely. And the fact that you actually have no option but to stay where you are is the key thing in this scenario. You do not have the option to leave at any point (unless you want to pay $400/hour for a helicopter to take you somewhere). And this all got too much one day and I just imploded. And for that hour, I was the person sitting in the corner, crying and rocking myself, wondering how the f***k I had gotten myself into this situation. What was I thinking, and why had I agreed to caretake over the wet. Well, with that I started to calm myself, and I am so lucky to have such supportive sisters, Z and E, to get me through. Anxiety had hit the roof and I was a complete and utter mess. And after that day, I felt it all get better. The week leading up to the complete breakdown was full of negativity about anything and everything. And the week after was filled with new perspectives on my life.

And with slowing of the rain, the family returned to Bunda, and everything seemed to fall back into its original place. My job returned to normal, teaching 2 little rabbits, and I became my usual self. Isn’t it funny how strong you are, until you are faced with something completely out of the ordinary that tests your entire being. For all that I went through personally, my mental health is stronger, but I have never felt to vulnerable in my entire life. And to be honest, I hope I don’t ever have to feel that sort of fragility again. 

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A day in the life of a Govie on an isolated cattle station is far from what you would expect it to be. Your day starts off in the schoolroom, but can end up helping load trucks, feeding stock and other animals, or cooking dinner for the crew. And when you go home, you’re completely exhausted, both mentally and physically. You’re feet hurt and you’re brain has turned to mush.
But I wouldn’t change my job for anything. I love getting up every morning, and making my way down to the homestead to see what awaits me.

The day usually starts at 7.30am, with a cup of coffee and the usual 20 minute period of logging each of the 3 kids into their lessons for the day. This isn’t always smooth sailing, as we are constantly faced with phone and internet issues. And at 8am it all begins. The schoolroom goes from being a quiet place, to being filled with music, laughter and the constant chattering. We progress through the day, sometimes easily, other times with many dramas, tantrums and even tears. But mostly we have fun. And I can appreciate each my 3 kiddos for their individuality and talents. One of my biggest fears coming into this job was that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the kids. But I was proven wrong. I am now such an important part of their lives that the thought of me going home for Christmas makes them all sad. So much so that they don’t want me to leave. And for that I am truly blessed and very grateful.

Doing school via Distance Education is not without it’s challenges. There are always, without fail, technology issues, as well as the problem of the physical distance from the teachers. School is both challenging and rewarding. I get to help these 3 kiddos become the intelligent and independent people they were born to be. But sometimes this is not such an easy task. But we make it work.

And I wouldn’t be where I am today without the network of support I have established, both within the Julia Creek area, and as far away as back home. When the going gets tough, I can always rely on them to help me in whatever way possible. Miss L, Miss T and Miss N are always on call for my every need. Blessed.

Once we complete our days work, our official school day concludes with either a craft activity (or 3), a board game, sports game or just free time to relax and do whatever we want. Which we all appreciate after a long day.

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And then I continue in the schoolroom, timetabling, so we can get everything done in the required time if we have to have days of school for camp drafting events, appointments, or even mustering. I’m always making sure I am familiar with the kid’s subject material for the following days, by going through it all, even doing some of the lessons myself to understand what is required. As much as they are learning, I am always learning new things myself. New strategies and concepts that help with maths, or science, geography and history. And the other days, when I don’t need to spend extra time in the schoolroom, I help out around the house, cleaning, or doing laundry, making smokos or dinner, or being in the garden. And most weekends I get to myself. But on the odd occasion, I get to help the boys muster. Which, at first was super exciting, and still is, but it is an extremely hot, long, and exhausting day. You start at 5am and get out to your waters, and slowly walk your cattle into the yards. Some paddocks require more than one walk in of cattle. And not all the cattle behave. Which makes for an interesting day. People falling off bikes, getting stuck in holes, cattle breaking away, and DUST. So much darn dust! In your eyes, mouth, ears and hair. But for me, who doesn’t get to do it very often, I enjoy the day. I am exhausted, but more often that not, I have a blast.

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The enthusiasm and excitement, described above, come in waves. One day you love everything your doing, the next you want to throw it all in and just go home. But in times like these I try to remember to take each day as it comes.And for me each day holds something new, and I am 100% grateful for the life that I am living.

With the mid-year holidays drawing closer, I made the decision to go home to Victoria for a week, to pay a surprise visit to my family and have a little break.

Unfortunately, the “holiday” I thought I was having turned into a week of hectic as hell running around. And by the end of it I was absolutely exhausted. I had something planned every single day I was at home. I squeezed in as much as I possibly could, so I could get around to see everybody. And I wasn’t able to spend as much time as I would have liked to with them all. While others didn’t even make the effort to see me. But you can’t always please everyone. And so many people still found reasons to not make the effort to attend small gatherings, when I was the one who had travelled for over 10 hours to see them. It is so crazy how people’s grudges get in the way of the important things in life. Living so far away hasn’t always made it easy to keep contact with people we used to regularly see. In saying that, I believe that family is family, no matter what crap has happened in the past, and missing an opportunity like that seems a little crazy to me. You just never know what life will throw at you, and how long you have with people.

Going back home was not what I thought it would be at all. It was the strangest feeling though. It wasn’t home at all, and I felt a little out of place being there. I didn’t have a physical home anymore, and stayed with family. For the first time, I felt like my home was truly in Julia Creek. It feels and sounds completely stupid, but my home is wherever S is. I have never felt like I was 100% at home in Queensland until I went home to Victoria for the first time. And so much had changed since I left Victoria. Our farm was a place I didn’t recognize, and more than anything it was a little disappointing how much can change in just 4 months. I am sure that it was only because I hadn’t been there in so long I just didn’t recognise the place. Cattle I had hoped to keep were no longer there, and it broke my heart to not get to say goodbye. My heart ached for the things I had left behind, but that was no longer my life, and I was kind of glad that we had left when we did. We were stuck in a rut, never getting anywhere with our goals, not to mention the constant debt we seemed to have gotten ourselves into. It was almost as if visiting our farm was the final piece to the decision we knew we had to make, and that was the sale of our surplus animals, to be able to get ahead in our lives. The farm was shrouded in darkness, not only literally, because it was raining and overcast, but because it was almost the end of an chapter in our lives that we hadn’t really thought would eventuate so soon. And as I now recall it all, it saddens me thinking of how much we will lose, but in the long run, how much we will gain. I always believed home was a physical place, and in some ways it is. The place you live which is really just a building. It’s the memories and the people that make your ‘home’ a true home. And it took a visit back to my family and friends to realise that my home is wherever S is, and for now, that is in Julia Creek. In saying that, that doesn’t mean I didn’t cry when I left Melbourne, or when I said goodbye to each of my family members. It just means that I will miss them. But I don’t long for ‘home’ anymore, I still do, and always will, long for my family and friends. But I just can’t see my life in any other place right now. And as much as I love my family, I really enjoy living away from it all. Sometimes it makes it all so much easier to stay close, and maintain a healthy relationship with the people in my life.

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One thing I have learnt being apart from my family and even my friends is that it really doesn’t matter what happened in the past, or even last week. All the crap you hold onto for years doesn’t actually MATTER. The grudges you use as a reason for not attending events, and not talking to members of the family are pointless, and really, in the end, just leave you bitter. Growing up, I was always taught that my family, especially my sisters E & Z, would be my best friends. And honestly, I thought it was a load of bull at the time. But in the last few years, and more so in the last 6 months, I have realised just how much I rely on them for support, and above all else, sanity. It is not only the fact that they are my sisters, but that they continuously support my crazy life decisions, without the slightest amount of negativity. Family can be the biggest support, as well as the biggest hindrance. And I have had my fair share of ups and downs with my family over the years, but we always seem to come back together in the end. But what a weird thing families are. The way things come together and fall apart. And in my life I am grateful for my family every day. I never thought that my life would lead me away from them, and in some ways I have left a huge hole in their lives, but they will always have me to keep them together, and to be that rock, even if I am 3000km away.

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