Turning 30

Today I am thirty.
There is so much I wish to tell fifteen-year-old me.
Things like – you won’t make it. It’s all a lie. Your dreams are just a shattered mirror on the floor. Don’t fool yourself sweetie, aim for something smaller, easier.
Don’t be stupid.
Don’t be an idiot.

Hah, hah – that marriage thing.
Yeah…
Well, guess what kiddo, you’re going to be thirty and pretty much the embodiment of Rapunzel stuck in a Tower.

I don’t feel like I have really “achieved” anything in my twenties. I feel like I am a burden on my parents. I feel like I am a waste of resources to the world. I feel aimless, plotless, useless.
And yet, for the past few months I have been asking myself “What?”
“What, just WHAT am I supposed to BE doing?”
There is NOTHING to do.
My Dad said to me the other day while I was in one of my moods. “Without a career, husband or kids, what is a woman to do?”
I answered, “Nothing, we do utterly nothing.”

(Dear feminists, don’t take this as a challenge or anything, this was a hypothetical question that my Dad and I were discussing, we do this often. Please don’t shoot me with fiery darts from hell.)

NOTHING.

So then, I remembered something my Dad also told me quite often, “No one ever really achieves anything in life. We all live mundane lives in a mundane world. We live, we die.”
He wasn’t meaning it to be discouraging, on the contrary, he was meaning it to be uplifting – and it is – in a manner of speaking. Life is made up of the nothingness – like the universe is formed of dark matter, or some mumbo, jumbo like that.
It is the mundane moments that gradually fold together, the little moments, those precious little moments, that become the long string that is LIFE. The repetitive motions you do every day – waking up, eating breakfast, going to work, smiling at people in the street, talking to family, not talking to family, going for walks, watching tele. It all gradually forms a mosaic. It’s the coloured pieces of that mosaic that eventually clustered together to become something meaningful.

Often we think of life as the HUGE big moments.
Marriages, and holidays, Christmases and buying houses – the big things that tend to be events.
But it’s the bits in-between those big events that truly craft us into the people we are.

I still have utterly no idea where I am going in life.
I have no idea what direction I am supposed to be taking.
I feel like a lost girl, struggling to find her way in the woods, stumbling over broken branches. I don’t know the way forward into whatever terrifying darkness that is ahead – that future before me – I am so scared, I am so afraid of what unknown lies before me.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t even feel like I have a lantern to direct me.

But I’m just going to keep stumbling forward.
Keep trusting that somewhere, somehow, I’ll find my way home.
That the nothingness will turn into somethingness. That the moments I’ve gathered into a mosaic have already formed a beautiful piece of art.

I have incredible parents, amazing siblings – a family that is supportive and loving – I’ve travelled abit, I’ve got friends across the world thanks to the internet, I’ve had adventures I never thought possible thanks to my Books.
I am so grateful to the community that has gathered around my stories, to the fans and friends I have found in my journey to become an author.
I have a house – a house I love – a house I look forward to someday making into a home with a husband and kids.

I still have dreams, hopes, and a future ahead.

I mean.

I’m only 30.

So, fifteen-year-old Kylie – it’s going to be okay. You’re in a bad place. You’re in a really, really bad place right now, but, you’re going to survive. Things get better. You pull through. You make 30. I know you don’t think that’s possible – but congratulations, we did it! WE DID IT!

Perhaps, don’t be so hard on yourself. Don’t think you’re fat when you’re obviously not. Wear that pretty brown dress like you’re a queen, cause, girl, you’re only going to be size 12 for like, three years. Flaunt it.
Don’t listen to women who tell you that you have ‘so much time,’ because, apparently we don’t.
Also, that whole there is ‘a lot of fish in the sea’ – yeah – about that…
The headaches are going to get worse before they get better, but, GOOD NEWS, they get better, you can look forward to that.


Finally, sweetie, don’t take life so seriously.
Enjoy yourself.

Just.

Really, really, enjoy yourself. Live.
Watch your anime. Dance to your songs. Write your stories. Play games.
Someday you’re going to be a thirty-year-old woman who is a little bit more cynical about everything.  

Loneliness

Recently I have been thinking a lot about loneliness.

I have been thinking about how loneliness can be knowing people, either IRL or online, but having an awful feeling that if you voiced your opinions on a topic, everyone would turn against you. So, you’re silent, all the time. Silent and lonely.

And that is just sad.

Perhaps it is just me. I don’t really know what it means to have friendships that go deep enough where there is no judgement, and you can discuss things freely without fear. I have only known fear in my friendships, fear of causing offense, fear of triggering anger and hatred, fear of causing pain. I do not know if I’d call that friendship.

All I can say is I am grateful for my family.

Sure, sometimes I feel like a complete alien amongst them, but, at least I’m their alien.

From the Past to the Present

From the Past to the Present

I want to read you all something I found today while sorting through my journals:  

I really am just so lost,

And it is really awful.

I just want this year, this horrible, horrible year to bring some happiness by the end of it.

I’ll keep stumbling forward in the dark.

I don’t know the way, but I’ll keep stumbling.

I really don’t have any other choice. 

This journal ends as it begins, with me being lost in a lonely abyss of despair. 

Nothing changes. 

Kylie Leane’s Journal – Dated 3/7/2017

Several months later I began a new journal in a NASA themed notebook – 29th of December 2017. This is a quote from the first page.

It is amazing to be able to start this journal off so very different from all other journals that have ever come before…

Yes – the House is mine (sorta).

But I HAVE A HOUSE to live in and to make my own, and I am so, so happy.

Kylie Leane’s Journal – Dated 29/12/2017

Change. Change happened. Indeed, the small journal that sits between the 7th month of 2017 and the 12th month is packed with a considerable amount of content. I was rapidly reaching the end of my tether, but without realising it, I was also spinning towards a resolution I could not see.

My journal’s are a fascinating journey – some are very repetitive – but others are absolute gems into my life, and frankly, the life of my family. There are things in them that I have entirely forgotten about – events that lead into other enormous, earth-shattering events (such as my older brother’s heart attack). I started writing about my brother’s symptoms THREE YEARS before he had his heart attack. I had no idea I started writing about his symptoms so early. That just…that just freaks me out…
There are car-crashes, cars being stolen, trees falling on the house, pets dying, my siblings going on dates, camping trips, me betting with my sister who will get married first (she owes me 50 bucks!).  


Have you ever wondered what your teenage self would say to you?
You know, like those letters that sometimes pop up on the internet:
Sixteen-year-old me writes a letter to thirty-year-old-me” 
Well – having a journal is a little bit like that. 


What captured me tonight was a journal from 2004 – when I would have been fifteen. I started reading this journal because I expected something a lot more depressing, following 2003 – a very difficult year upon which I left face-to-face school, and went on anti-antidepressants, and if it wasn’t for my journals, I would have NO recollection of 2003 due to those drugs.  So, what did I discover from 2004, after my mother pulled me off Zoloft, due to its…ah…side-effects? I discovered a brilliant, articulated teenage girl who loved God. 
I know this might sound a bit…awful to say about myself…but for the longest time, I have had a very poor opinion of teenage me. I felt I caused immense amount of strife for my family, and I have been deeply ashamed. 
So, reading back a journal and discovering a teenager full of such happiness, such life, such enthusiasm and love  for her family just fills me with gratitude for that young girl. 
That was me – once upon a time – and if that was me once upon a time, doesn’t that mean that is still me now? 

I’ll leave you with some wisdom from fifteen-year-old me: 

You are a beautiful young lady. Smart and intelligent. 
No matter what, never give up.
You will get somewhere in this world.

Kylie Leane’s Journal – Dated 16/12/04

Author Kylie

I am Weak and that is Okay

Yesterday, Sunday 16th of September, was the City to Bay Fun Run here in Adelaide and I participated in the 12km walk. 
I wasn’t feeling particularly ready or confident about it. The weekend before I did a practice walk with my Dad and that resulted in a nasty blister on the sole of my left foot. 
On the plus side though, I was FINALLY going into a walk with both my knees fantastically fine and fit. 
But my feet – my feet were shockingly awful. 
And frankly, I hated every step of the 12km. Half way through and I was crying silently to myself, forcing myself to go faster, just to make it stop. 

The result? I actually almost finished the 12km in 2 hours, I was just three minutes short. Considering I thought I was going to be 2 hours and half an hour, that was pretty good! I sliced off a bit of time on my year before! 
But, ah…ahhhh…
My feet? Oh…boy…
So, you know that blister, yeah…about that…it got worse. 
And I added to it, it’s got a friend, a HUGE friend, the biggest blood blister I have EVER seen in my ENTIRE LIFE. 
I am used to the feeling of walking on knives, that’s pretty normal for me, but this was hot knives. Very painful. 
And let’s add a migraine to that, just to top off the day. So I got home, could barely walk, and was vomiting into a bucket.

I just cried and cried under my cold pack. (I don’t know what hurt more, missing a family movie night that I had been really looking forward to, or the migraine/blisters… ^^;)
Why do I do this to myself? 

Why do I push myself so hard to a point of damaging myself? I really don’t know. I wish I got enjoyment out of exercise, but I don’t, it is far to painful – I get enjoyment out of the feeling of achievement after it I suppose. The feeling that despite everything my body throws at me, I can push myself beyond the agony, beyond the pain, and do something, is a powerful one.

There is a Twitter thread going on right now about how women and girls aren’t weak, and how everyone is tired of that stereotype. Well, to be honest, I feel very weak. Yesterday as I was talking along, silently crying to myself, I felt so weak, so defeated, and so, so alone. It is exhausting forcing myself to not show my pain, to sit in small group with a smile on my face, to not wince when someone claps me on the shoulder. 

One of my characters in my series talks about pain being the long and lonely walk that gradually decays hope. To be honest, I still haven’t figure out his arc yet, perhaps, because I still haven’t figured out my own arc. 

All I know is that in my weakness, I am not weak, I am in fact made stronger through that weakness. I force myself forward through some unseen, crazy force that propels me to just keep marching forward no matter what. 
Hope.
I think that force is Hope

The Spirit Prevails

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Can I write a review of a book I published and written by my Nana, Gwenneth Leane?
Yeah. Sure I can, when I feel this strongly about the subject, I think it’s okay.

The Spirit Prevail’s is the type of novel I wish had been around when I was doing Aboriginal Studies at school – instead I was just doing boring sheet work, and getting told off for not being PC enough (apparently my Aussie slang was, well, you know, slang. And yes, I have never forgotten being called out in class, even if it was over the phone, and being told off, because of my country slang. This memory is with me for life.)
I wish we’d had a book like this: personally dictated by an Aboriginal but transcribed by a White Australian*, therefore making me, a White Australian, able to grasp the incredible and profound world that opens up within the pages of the book. It is eye opening. I highly recommend this book. It is a really fascinating journey, learning the life of an incredible woman who stood up to great oppression and fought for her people.
I am honoured that I got to meet her, and I just love hearing stories from my grandparents and parents about their times travelling with her.

*I really don’t like using the term “White Australian” – I’d much rather say European Australian, or just break it down even further, but, in terms of understanding this book and the cultural significance of ‘white Australian culture’ at the time this book is set, it is the most fitting term, even if it has been co-opted in our most recent generation.

You can pick up the paperback version on Amazon.com and for the Aussies Amazon.com.au

You can also find it at my Etsy shop, The Comfort Library, if you’d like a signed version from my Nana.

Happy Birthday

So. Here I am; twenty-nine years old.
My Dad called me this morning and asked me if I felt twenty-nine . Nope. My sister say’s I’m only allowed to whine about getting old when I reach thirty. Okay. Now. That number just scares me. Not because it’s old or anything, it’s because I feel like by the time you’re thirty you’re supposed to at least have…I donno…gotten married, had kids, or done something like that, right?
My mother commented the other day while we were driving to see my little sister, after mentioning my birthday, just how vastly different our lives were. She was married at nineteen, had all her four kids by thirty. ALL HER FOUR KIDS BY THIRTY. ALL OF THEM.

So yes. Needless to say; my mother and I have walked very different paths.

However, there are things I have done that my mother hasn’t done, and it is good to sometimes look back on those memories and remind myself that even though I haven’t fulfilled the dream of settling down with a bunch of little kids running around yet, I have had some pretty great adventures despite my difficulties.

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Look at me being so contemplative…

In 2009, before we really knew what was going on with my health, and just as I was starting to deteriorate – we went on a family holiday to New Zealand (my third favourite place in the whole world). This family holiday has remained one of my fondest memories. My parents noticed my lack of odd stamina on this trip, which I suppose helped in some way towards my eventual diagnosis – I also fell down the camper-van stair and twisted my ankle and created the family-meme that I *always* fall down stairs.

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My little sister, Melissa, little brother, Michael, (Me) and older brother Andrew. Hah, I just realised we should have done this by age, but we didn’t. Mel should be in the middle with me. We’re so short compared to our bros. 

Somewhere between 2010 and 2011 I went on a trip to England, Ireland and Scotland. I actually can’t remember the year…I have it recorded as 2011 but I don’t trust that anymore after my computer lost it’s hard-drive.
This was my adventure of a lifetime – and – in TRUE Kylie fashion what did I do? I tripped over and busted me knee (see, see!) I ended up in a hospital in the middle of London at Midnight for an x-ray. The ride in the ambulance was fun though, as the paramedics were really, really lovely. The whole experience was actually pretty interesting.
My poor parents though – second day in and they get a phone call from me, “Ah, yeah, um…I’m in hospital.”
Anyway, a wrapped up knee layer and a pair of crutches had me right back on track and I was on my tour. So I couldn’t really run around as much as I had hoped, but I was going to make the most of being in in the countries I loved so, so much.

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Before I did my knee in. ^_^

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I know this picture doesn’t look like much – but I am the happiest person in the world right in this moment. I am in Scotland (my favourite country), surrounded by wonderful people, and we’re in the Highlands, and I’d just bought that hat. My favourite souvenir from the whole trip.

I have so many stories I could tell from my trip to England, Ireland and Scotland. It was such a marvellous adventure. I cherish the memories dearly, and I often think of it randomly – the memories just pop into my head and make me smile. I had never seen grass so green, I had never seen fields so fresh, and streets so tiny. When I got lost in the cobbled stone roads of St. Ive, hobbling around on my crutches, crying and crying, wondering if I would ever escape, it felt like a nightmare but now, looking back, I laugh at the hilariousness of it all. All I wanted was a Cornish pasty.

My next adventure was back to New Zealand for the release of the first Hobbit movie – can you believe this was in 2012. WOW. I travelled to New Zealand with a group of Lord of the Rings and Narnia fans for an epic trip to see all the movie sights. Made some good friends. My favourite part was probably getting the most epic tan ever waiting at the red carpet (mostly because it didn’t require me moving…at this point, I knew my stamina was bad and I just couldn’t do everything everyone else and it sorta sucked, okay, I hated it, so if I could join in something that meant standing still, I was totally there.)

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Yeah! Red carpet event! Whoop!

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The best day – by far though – was the visit to Hobbiton. If I can someday get my garden looking this wonderful I will be a happy, happy little Hobbit girl. This is my favourite photo from the trip – standing in front of Samwise’s house. 

Later that evening at The Green Dragon we were the first tour group to ever have a meal there. These are the wonderful things memories are made of.

 

We had an amazing guide – Mike.

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Then – an adventurer came to visit me.
My most wonderful, best friend, Anouk headed all the way to Australia from the Netherlands. There are friendships that shape you, and define you, and bring out the best in you and the friendship I have with Anouk is one of those. We’ve been friends for…oh gosh…almost, I think it’s almost ten years now. I think. Meeting someone you’ve only known online is incredible. It was profound. It makes the world so much bigger, and so much smaller, all that once. The moment she left was heart breaking, and I couldn’t stop crying.
I am very grateful the internet opened the doors for me to meet such a beautiful person.

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Now I am heading off on another adventure in a week or so. Off to Melbourne. I know, I know, it’s not another country or anything, but it feels just as epic in my mind. I have never really travelled outside of South Australia much and this will be my first time in another Australia’s major cities.
I have a wonderful, amazing group of people I am heading off with for Supanova, and I am so looking forward to the new memories to add to my collection.

So I might not have done what I dreamt of as a little girl – fulfilled the dreams of my childhood – but looking back – I’ve had a pretty good run of it and I am so grateful to everyone I’ve met along the way who has shared these moments with me.

Thanks everyone.

Seasons of Change

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As the season changes in gradual Autumn colours the life of my family shifts once more. How can such joy come in such a tiny package? I am filled with an immense, overwhelming happiness when thinking about the newest member of my family – little Mordecai Gratez, born on the 9th of March.

At the beginning of last year things were so different and to just look upon my nephew gives me so much hope for the future, to realise that anything is possible. I hold onto that hope for my own life.

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My parents recently came around to my house to help with the garden – we called it a working bee – and it was really helpful to clear a lot away so I can begin building the garden back up again. We cut down some old, dead trees, took out some cacti. I am pretty much in the garden every day now.

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Dad was able to put my signs up. They look pretty adorable. ^_^

Having a house is an incredible change, a huge step, and I am still adapting to it, still having to pinch myself sometimes when I wake up in the morning and step outside. There is a lot to do, a lot of responsibility. Every day there is something to do. Paths to sweep. Garden to water. Floor to clean. Dishes to wash. Just something. Sometimes its something I can’t do because I’m not strong enough and I gripe about it for awhile and set it aside in my basket of ‘things Kylie can’t do’ – but I will get there, eventually.

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Having my cat with me has been wonderful. I know it’s an awful stereotype that single women, who are writers, love their cats – but I do. Once upon a time, I was a on a drug called Zoloft, and this was back in the day before the knowledge that in certain people, anti-depressants could have an adverse reaction was common. Instead of giving me equilibrium, the drug threw me into a suicidal cycle. Very frightening for my parents. It was during this period of time that my mother brought me a companion – Aislinn. I was very lonely. So, so lonely. I had just left face-to-face school, feeling like I had failed completely in my education and started school via long-distance. I was alone. So my mother brought me a friend. Aislinn barely left my side.

Eventually my mother figured out what was going on with the drugs – she’s got smarts, my Mum – and coming off them allowed me to regain my mind. I don’t recall much of this time in my life (which is odd for me), it is a big, blurry whole of nothing apart from scattered fragments. I didn’t even keep a journal, and the few scratches of pages I do have are…frankly…the writings of a girl I don’t know. Someday I want to write a book about this but I really don’t know where to start. That’s the thing about having kept a journal from when I was eight. Where do I start?

I have always been really embarrassed about it, and I’ve never wanted to speak about it. Every time I go to the doctors, having a diagnosis of ‘depression’ is frustrating because, obviously, that was a LONG, LONG time ago and I am an adult now but these things stay on your record forever no matter how much you grow and change as a person. But I am growing and changing as a young woman, and realising I don’t need to be embarrassed for a past I had no control over, for the story that has made me who I am today. The strong, resilient young woman who wants to hold her head up high and walk out into the world without fear.

I still react poorly to most medications. Whatever the worst side-effect is, there is a high likelihood that I’ll get it. Just seems to be the way my body works.

But I got through all that, as difficult as it was, and here Aislinn and I are, still together, a cat and her writer.

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But I digressed – back to my original point – as I look upon my nephew, beautiful, sweet and so new into this world, his entire life ahead of him I reminded by his existence, that anything is possible.

So I live in hope.

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The seasons are always changing and I am looking forward to seeing what adventure lies around the next corner. As I wait, I will just keep gardening, writing and loving my family as the leaves gradually fall.

 

Moving Ever Onward

Tonight is the last night (well, I think) here in my parents house for today I received the key’s to my new home. How can I describe the true elation of this day – it means the world to me – to find myself moving forward.
Suddenly the locomotive that leads my life has roared to life in a burst of steam and we are heading for the mountains that I am sure are to come, but for now, I see green meadows.

At the beginning of 2017 I never expected to be starting 2018 in a new home. It was a dream beyond my grasp. Perhaps though, the most incredible thing to come about is the renewed hope. A hope in a future I had begun to loose spirit in.

2017 was a difficult year, but if climbing the mountain that was 2017 meant I can stand on top of this peak for awhile, then okay, I climbed that mountain like a trooper and now I’m going to enjoy this view while I can.

Tomorrow my amazing family is coming around to help move me into my new home. We’re in the middle of a bit of a heatwave, which is – ah – inconvenient to say the least. Hopefully we can get the heavy lifting out of the way early in the morning. ^_^

I know everyone is not looking forward to moving a particular couch of mine.

There is one thing I am really going to miss about moving into a new home.
That is my beloved cat, Aislinn Dreamer. My mother purchased Aislinn for me in year 9, when I was going through a very difficult time, she became a constant companion of mine and I have – well – I’ll admit – I’ve sort of become a little attached. She means a lot to me. 19125163_10155399160318430_1117968493_o

I always promised myself I would never get another cat until she passed away and she’s in her fifteenth year now – I think – and still going pretty strong, other than some arthritis in her legs. She can’t jump from high places anymore, and she loathes going up and down the stairs to my Loft. She’s very attached to my parents house though – and we’ve all agreed that forcing her to move at her age would just cause more stress than it’s worth when she’s so attached to the house.

Thus, I am leaving behind my cat.
I know, I know, it’s really not that big of a deal – I’m making myself into a total stereotypical single cat lady that I loathe being.  I’m sure my parents will look after her, despite them threatening otherwise.

Well, now, I really do need to sign off this computer and start packing it up for the move tomorrow. It’s all exciting and exhausting all at the same time. I suppose the next time you hear from me it will be from a new office in a new home.

Ever onward then.

The Passage of Time

I keep journals. I’ve kept journals since I was nine years old. Not that those journals are particularly well written, considering my dyslexia. I was only, truly, able to spell and write coherently when I was fifteen, so it was little wonder I was failing school by year nine. Yet – I digress – journal writing is fascinating. It allows this incredible record of the passage of time.

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These journals tell some very dark tales – of a teenage girl fighting for survival – but they also tell the story of hope, love and conquering monstrous dragons, and of a family she utterly adores.

During my packing process (for moving into my new house) I found my journal for the tail end of 2016 and the beginning months of 2017. I was curious – since it was New Years Eve – I decided to sit down and see what my thoughts had been at that time the previous year. Well. I can tell you. I hadn’t been in a great place. Indeed, things seemed rather dim for my whole family, according to my journal.

The thing that kept repeating itself, over and over, as I read through the months into 2017 – and no – it had nothing to do with Trump – was my loneliness. I was so lonely. This immense pit of loneliness.
But slowly – as 2017 progressed – little things happened (okay, some of them rather big)
And you know what, I never even noticed. I’ve only noticed it now, looking back.
My Dad got a job. My brother got a job. My sister is pregnant. I’ve found a small community of people to talk too every now and then – goodness – I’m even going to Melbourne this year with them! That lonely feeling – it isn’t as crushing anymore. And just when I thought I’d reached the end of my rope at the very end of 2017 – a lifeline was flung out to me.
I’m moving out of my parents house. I can begin a new journal, on fresh pages, in 2018.
I have read every journal, and none of them have started off with the optimism of 2018.
Sure, a part of me is terrified, but it is sort of that terror that comes when you do something truly daring and exciting.

My pain levels haven’t change. I’m sitting here, my body burning, clothes digging into my flesh like knives. I had the thought the other day – “I am so blessed, so, am I still allowed to cry?”
I honestly don’t know the answer to that question. It’s very conflicting to be in so much pain, yet to feel so happy. ^_^

IMG_20171231_234724.jpgThis New Years, my Father, Mother and had – honestly – the nicest New Years Eve we’ve had in a long time. It was just the three of us – for a BBQ – and then for the first time ever, after all the year’s we’ve lived in Adelaide – we headed to Glenelg to see the fireworks.
It was beautiful. It was such a lovely way to welcome in the new year.
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Whatever this year brings, whatever tales my journals will someday tell of 2018, this princess is no longer trapped in her tower.

She’s going to go and find a prince to help build her kingdom.

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A New Adventure

Christmas Kylie

Merry Christmas Smile ^_^

I still clearly recall it, as it was on one of my Saturday morning walks down Coromandel Valley, where I was to meet my parents at the local Bakery. I’m still working towards doing a 22km half-marathon you see – not that I’ve been doing crash-hot at it of late – but between 9-6km is still an okay average I think.
Anyway – it was one of those early morning walks that I found myself standing in front of a house for sale, a sweet little two bedroom house, tucked away on Main Road.
I thought to myself, “Wow, it would be really nice to get a house like this…”
And I mentioned the house to my parents at the Bakery.
On the way home, we stopped by the house and my Dad agreed that it was a really lovely house.
That – that moment – of us three standing admiring that little house on Main Road, several months ago was the beginning of an adventure that took myself and my parents across the hills, down to Meadows, Mt. Barker, and across the Suburbs. I learnt much about building houses, prices of blocks, the different prices of houses in different suburbs – the difference a single room could make, or a few meters on a block.
Eventually – eventually – I found a house that ticked most of the boxes on our list.
However, I had no clue of what that comes after you find a house you like – the whole, you know, BUYING a house deal is complicated, it deals with far more people I ever imagined, and I do not ever suggest doing it over the Christmas/New Years period.
My childhood idea of what buying a house entails is utterly, utterly shattered. I think…does this make me an adult now?
I cannot even begin to explain the height of emotions the past three weeks have taken me through. It has been an utter roller-coaster.

But.

I have a house.
Part of me is still standing in front of that house-for-sale on Main Road, looking up at it, dreaming of the future and I can’t quite believe the future has actually happened. I have been dreaming on this for a very, very long time. My life has felt like it has been standing still, really since 2009, for nine years, I’ve had this sensation that I’ve been stuck in the mud, while everyone moves on around me; which I know isn’t true, but its an eerie illusion.
I would just keep repeating to myself, “This season will change.”

Sure, over the past nine years I’ve come away with regrets that I didn’t take opportunities to shift the time-stream, but, we all walk our paths to the beat of our chosen drum. Mine just happens to be a rather slow beat. I also don’t think we can live in regret – it’s a terrible way to live.

I am really looking forward to this new adventure.
It isn’t going to be easy. Figuring out how to publish my books while, well, paying off a house, bills, car and all those, you know, ‘life’ things, is going to be an interesting endeavour but I’m rather looking forward to the challenge.
I have just been strictly told not to starve myself…(seriously, that won’t be a problem. *I grumble, knowing I’ve gained, something like 5kg over Christmas, or something awful like that! Gah, gah!!)

For my dear Readers – know that I will still very much be writing books and aiming to publish them! I’m serious when I say, the best thing you can do right now, is shove my book at as many people and spread the word – even reviews on Goodreads and Amazon would help at the moment, anything – anything at all to boost sales so I can get the funds to publish Book 3. Crazy heh, but your money goes directly back into funding books. Whoop!

2017 opened with me having moved back in with my parents and I honestly expected to spend several years with them. I am so grateful, so relieved, so happy to be starting 2018 with a fresh new chapter.

Let’s see where this new chapter of this book of life takes me.

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