A Journey of Healing

Before the world went nuts, before it changed irreconcilably. I was on a journey of self-discovery. I was looking at myself and my world trying to figure out why I acted, re-acted and thought the way I did. I got extraordinarily little out of the journey that first year. I changed a lot, put on a bravado that was false but learned little about myself.  I was told that I should be strong, that I should be in control. I mentally whipped myself when I felt I was falling into old habits. I berated myself when I people pleased. I hated myself when I couldn’t voice my feelings or desires. I scoffed at myself when I felt weak or cried. I did everything I could to strong arm myself into divine change for the better. I did everything I could to not have to do the work.

It didn’t work!

 It wasn’t, as my mind had whispered to me as I lay awake in those dark and quiet hours of the early morning, that I was broken or just hardwired wrong. It wasn’t that I was worthless or stupid, and it wasn’t because I was too busy to try.

It was because I was, as always, trying to find someone or something else to blame for my current state. I had done it my whole life. I didn’t want to see the naked and raw truth about myself, so I tried to hide behind the state of my childhood and the emotional trauma I still carried. I hid behind the boys and men that took particular and unwanted interest in me. I hid in my life as young teenaged mum. I wrapped myself in a blanket of self-hatred because I was uneducated and unemployed.

My cloak of victimhood danced with rivers of colours that dazzled and entranced me and I let it, because I didn’t or couldn’t do the leg work; I didn’t want to look inside myself and find my faults and wounds.

I convinced myself that I would become a better person if I concentrated on all the wrongs others had done to me. It enhanced my victimhood. “look at how they wronged me” “can’t blame me for how I am, look at how I was treated”. I brushed it all under the rug and sat down to wipe my hands against my thighs congratulating myself on my success and bolstering my ego. But that rug now sat atop a mountain of pain and broken promises and I couldn’t get down!

“damn them for treating me so badly and hurting me so much”.

 I needed to forgive right? That was how I got down? After all, I sure didn’t need to wade through all this trauma because it wasn’t my fault!

But that’s not true. I did need to forgive, yes! And no, it wasn’t my fault that I had those experiences.  But, yes, I needed to dive deep into all that stuff I had swept under the rug. What I hadn’t understood at the time, was that buried in those memories. Buried in that ick. Buried in those wounds were tiny slivers of glass that continued to cause me pain, that trained me to react and act in certain ways. That festered and turned necrotic with every situation that shared similar emotional reactions. I had to acknowledge all of that raw and bloody glass to grow as a person.

I scrambled to gather self-help books, I asked friends what I could do, I dived into old hobbies that I figured would help me be the person I was before. I was wrong, because I was looking for a “how to” book and all I was finding was “you can do it!” books. I was trying hard to be the person I was and not the person I wanted to be. I started to despair, so I dived into Youtube looking for self-help and positive thinking videos and then I found her!

 Sarah Montana, I watched her Ted talk. I re-watched it, I cried, I screamed, I scoffed and finally sat with her as she told me about her hurt and trauma. About her failed attempts to forgive and forget and her ‘Falling through the rabbit hole’ on her quest to learn how to forgive.

I discovered that what I knew about forgiveness was wrong, I sat with this woman playing through my computer speakers as my mind spun and I discovered something. I discovered that the act of forgiving isn’t about forgiving the person who wronged you. But rather, forgiving yourself. In my case, I was forgiving myself because I couldn’t stop it, because I never noticed being hurt, I forgave myself because I never knew I was putting myself in harms way.

People make choices; it can be wrong, and it can hurt someone, but it isn’t a choice you help them make. People make choices every day. Good or bad, wrong or right, it’s their choice… my choice… your choice. You determine your path.

I looked inside and I fell into an ocean of anger and hurt, this ocean. Fuelled my toxic traits. It threatened to drown my good traits. Floating in this ocean I found the parts of me that had been harmed. And with each discovery the ocean waves began to roll. The sky darkened. I was tossed about. And on the outside my emotions became erratic, my temper became short. I became depressed, my world turned grey. I pulled away from my husband. I turned on him. I couldn’t hug my children because I resented them their freedom and their existence. In short, my anger and hurt began to tear my world apart.

And how I wanted to blame those people that had hurt me. But it wasn’t them. When I looked deeper it to that riled ocean, I saw me. I saw my anger was aimed at me. Because, if I didn’t want to be hurt why put myself in that position. Does that sound familiar? It’s the lesson we learn every time a victim is blamed for their abuse. It’s the lessons learned when we are callously asked why we stayed. It’s the lesson we learn when we asked why we were with that person in the first place.

Its victim blaming and I was doing it to myself. Intellectually, I wasn’t part of that process that lead that person to choose to harm me. I had in my journey of self-discovery learnt that all that anger I held onto for my past and the hurt I had endured there. That I was actually angry at myself for putting myself in that position.

 I forgave myself for the anger I had held on to so forcefully. I held my own hand and removed the blame and the hate. I had been trying to forgive the person and in my mind forgiveness equated acceptance of their behaviour. Like I was removing their guilt and their accountability. Forgiveness felt like I was taking the blame for their choices. The epiphany I had while listening to Sarah was a powerful one in which I took myself from the only person fighting to the person moving on.

Forgiveness was the start; the rabbit hole didn’t stop there. Like Alice as she fell, I found myself wondering what was at the bottom. Who would I be after I fell, once I landed would I be trapped in the hall with the glass table or would I find the garden? I didn’t know all I knew was that my forgiveness had shown me several paths and no directions. If only I had found Cheshire cat as well.

I asked for help, that roiling ocean that I had inside was unbearable. I couldn’t find my own way to calm it. So, I started talking to a counsellor. I sat with her five times and I cried beside her as we talk superficially about my childhood. Our talks weren’t deep. But it had a profound affect on me.

The unfortunate truth is you cannot look inside yourself and have your life remain sunshine and rainbows. It’s a dark, painful, and twisted journey. I rebelled from it so many times. I let my ego tell me that it wasn’t me that needed the work. After all I knew I wasn’t perfect what more could I do? I was good, I had learnt forgiveness.

Lots! I could do lots more.

So, I delved down into my past, my psyche, my present, and future. I unearthed stones and cracks, scars and festering wounds. I tore my mind apart and I met wall after wall. Screamed that it was too hard. Hid from the things I didn’t like about myself.

I learned, unlearned, and re-learned traits, personality quirks, and emotions. I accepted that I had spent a lot of my life blaming others for my lack of direction and held tight to my victimhood. I learnt that I let the man who abused me emotionally and the boy who abused me sexually metaphorically hold me back. I was dragging them into every aspect of my life and using them as a benchmark of how to be treated.

I blamed my husband for not making me happy, I blamed my family for not teaching me how to succeed, I blamed my friends for making me stupid. Worse than all that, I blamed my children for trapping me somewhere I found cramped and unliveable.  I never once took accountability with myself. I became depressed and anxious, I slept just to avoid my life and I let everyone, including me, accept that it was just because I was depressed. I refused to acknowledge that I could do something. The doctors refused to drug me. I let my mind run all over me and cover my world with darkness.

So now I am here with bloody knuckles and weeping wounds. But I am finally understanding something. I am accountable.

I am accountable for judging people instead of working on myself.

I am accountable for my lack of drive

I am accountable for the lack of control in my life. I spent so many years asking so many people to run my life and they did. People will. If you hand them the keys and say drive. They will drive you right into a wall. It isn’t deliberate, It isn’t malicious. It just is. They are not you, they don’t know your directions.

I am accountable for teaching my kids to disappoint others in hopes they will always choose themselves. We must show our kids that sacrificing their selves is not an act of compromise but of self-harm. That if someone expects you to be less than yourself so they can be bigger, then they are not for them.

I am accountable for showing them that they can reach for the stars. Its not something you can tell them. Kids are smarter than we let them be. They know deep inside that mummy is a liar. Because, “if I can reach for the stars why can’t mummy?”. We are responsible, not only to tell these little people to follow their dreams but we owe it to ourselves and them to show them how to do it.

I am accountable for all those little faults I let control me. My highly emotional state, I am accountable if I let them control me. My confidence, I am accountable for building myself up. My dreams, I am accountable for following the path I want to tread. My happiness, its all mine. I can be happy with someone else but not because of them. Happiness within my self lets me shine. That’s why when I was seven, I shone like a bright light. Because I was happy!

Which is why I am here today.

My dream is to write!

I have long held onto the idea that I will never be a writer because I lack the technical skills, the imagination, the drive, or the ability. Some of these are true, but, most of them are true because I let fear and ego hold me back from living this dream. How on earth, or any other bloody planet, can I get better at my craft and unlock my potential if I don’t, as Nike say  “Just Do It!”

I was once a bright and happy girl who saw the magic in a tree or on the wind. Who read to pass the time. Who danced to the music in her mind. That wondered at what lay beyond her sight. I was a girl who dreamed while being awake. Who put herself to sleep telling and creating her own worlds and stories.

Then, I was the teenager who wanted to live a successful life. But who fell victim to self-esteem and peer pressure. Who had needed to conform as to not stand out.  Who’s dreams and personality was laughed at and used as a weapon against her. Who’s happiness was destroyed because she didn’t have the strength to shrug it off. Who believed she had to because that’s what everyone did.

 I grew up to be the women that allowed others to convince her she would be nothing more than a speck of dust. I was told I wasn’t intelligent enough, so I showed them I wasn’t. I was told I wasn’t strong enough, so I showed them it was true. I let them drive me into a wall. And I screamed the entire way and then thanked them at the end. Because a good girl, and for sure I was a good girl, fell into line and lived by expectations. I was to nurture, to remain wholesome, I was to be well spoken polite and not loud. I was to be un-opinionated, I was to be calm, I was to be the one who took control of life but only in practical ways. I would cook, clean, run the house. I was to carry, birth, love, nurture and sacrifice for my family. I was to be the foundation to be stood on while they built a life. I was to forget about the magic I saw on the wind.

And I was so good!

I learnt to hide my light, imagination, and drive because that was what was expected. I learnt to hide away behind judgement and ridicule because that was accepted.  Just for them to turn against me because life is harsh. I waited patiently as they tethered me in a barren yard and instead of breaking the rope, I wrapped it around myself to stay warm. I lived the life I was supposed to according to everyone but not the one that mattered most. I raised a happy boy and watched his lights go dim.

I endured needles and scans through two IVF ICSI cycles to have my daughter, I carried her for 39 weeks. I was strapped to a table in a room full of people as they cut her from my body. My first glimpse of the sweet precious life I carried was of a bright purple girl covered in goo and bruises screaming as the held her in the air. They lay her on my chest and my entire world stopped. My mind ground to a halt and I wanted the absolute best for my girl. I wept tears of joy and utter devastation. For a second, I thought to myself “what have done” I knew that my daughter was too good for this world, for the role she would be forced into. She was my trigger point! She was what made me sit up from a 28-year sleep and say nope! Enough!

You cannot have her like you took me!


Kristy “Taominx”

This post can also be found on ordinary life extraordinary moments . com

How to Succeed as a Blogger

Are you like me? Have you searched “How To Become a Successful Blogger?” so many times that the second “how” or “Blog” hits your search bar autofill takes over? Have you thought “hell, this will be easy!”? Have you seen all these people advertise how they make 6-figure salaries just by blogging and figure I could do that too? Yet you can’t seem to figure out how?

Here’s the secret. Blogs, Affiliates, selling a workshop, sponsored posts, Merch (let’s not forget the Merch :), etc. All viable! All great ways to make money! And that’s the combo you need to get those six-figure incomes.

Oh Yes, I’ll admit it, I am terribly jealous of those bloggers because no matter how hard I try, and if you are a follower you know that’s fragmented and half-assed at best. I cannot seem to break into blogging for money. It’s very easy to fall into a judgy, whiney mess of a blogger and complain that I will never be as “good” as them because I don’t have the skills. I don’t want to be that person so I’ll own it. I. DON’T. TRY. HARD. ENOUGH! Something I hope to change, BTW.

There, I feel better! Now, Back on point…

So this post is more of … “Taominx’s guide on what NOT to do to become a successful Blogger” rather than “Taominx’s sure fire way to succeed in the blog life” because if there is one thing I know how to do it’s how to fail at this.

STOP! Thinking it will be an easy, part-time, occasional gig. It’s not! (ah whoops)

Blogging takes hard work, skill, and research.

Now, you can have a successful blog and post sporadically. As long as your post subject is relevant and quality. So don’t think you have to post twice a week or every day. A well written, edited, relevant, thought out and highly researched post (again something I’ll work on) will garner a lot more attention to your blog than posting every day.

Quality over quantity and all that jazzy splash.

This is probably the hardest part for me. Being a working mum and student has definitely cut into my creative and productive time and beat down my desires to work on my blog. But that’s still an excuse. I don’t put the time or effort into my little blog that it deserves. That my potential audience deserves and I’m lacking passion and drive. It’s hindering my success as a blogger.

That leads us to point two

Do not jump into blogging without a plan or direction.

“Failure to plan is planning to fail” (love me a good quote)

I thought to myself “I’ll write about beauty and baby products” (enter hysterical laugh here)

Yeah, that was a mistake.

I assumed it would be easy, that the blogs will basically write themselves.

Yeah… Not so much.

Why I ever thought that writing a blog about beauty products. Would develop a love for the industry in me I don’t know…

Seriously, I’m the bare-faced, fashion stunted, mum of two with very little desire to follow beauty trends. Beauty blogging was not the way for me. Break down what you want out of blogging, what topics you would find most engaging, what kind of audience you want, how far you want to take it. Don’t assume these things will come to you as you post. Having no goals in place will see you floundering. So my advice. Please please plan. I want you to succeed.


Be yourself!

The best response to a post I have ever had was a post where I was entirely myself. It was written in about 20 minutes and it still makes me happy to read.

I developed this semi-professional cold approach to blogging. Probably because I wasn’t writing about things I enjoyed to a passionate level. Blogging is a personal experience had in a public realm. In this day and age, people want to connect. So do it… Connect. Create a community of like people that challenge and support you and each other. Evolve together and you will find success. Even if it’s slow going.

Build your space!

You will need it! A room, a desk, a lamp and some quiet. Nothing like being constantly called away when your trying to get some work done to kill that blogging feeling. You won’t get anything done, you’ll just become stressed and angry, and you will give up. Make yourself a blogging space so you can be your productive best.

Failure is imminent, but don’t let it become a regret.

You will fail… We all have. But your strength lies in turning that failure into a win. I fail myself by not applying or shutting myself down to the massive possibilities that await in the blogging world. I was contacted about being a guest blogger and instead of jumping at the chance even if I failed…

Well, I was freaked out (bad anxiety and second-guessing) so bad I even neglected to contact the person who approached me and let them down easy. I completely blanked them. I regret that to this day. It was awful and unprofessional. So I’ll take three seconds to apologise to them right now.

I am sorry, so very truly sorry and if I could get that chance again I would take it.

Back on point, failure isn’t the end. I know it is easy for me to sit here and tell you to take that proverbial bull by the horns and make him your bitch, but you (and I, for that matter) need to take that chance even if we break our bones in the process. Take that affiliate link and share the crap out of it, try that sponsored post thing, write that short e-course or e-book if you want but take those risks. Put you and your blog out there and get that attention.

Apparently its worth it, wanna try 🙂


Fall in love with blogging.

I see my blog and I love it but the lack of “success” is holding me back. So, love your blog even when you’re not getting the follows, the statistics or the cash flow. Blogging has to become a labour of love before it can become a cash cow. I have come to the understanding if I love my blog and my posts to the point that I can ignore the hate and lack of interest. That if I love my little space in the blogging sphere it will begin to grow some amazing opportunities and get some attention.

Let’s face it not everyone loves a garden until spring arrives and those flowers bloom. That’s when that little garden gets the attention it deserves.

Now go out and someday I hope to see you succeed where I have failed. I want to be like you one day!



This post is written from personal experience and is not guaranteed success. We are all learning this business and what works for others won’t always work for you.

10 Crazy Things I did when I was Pregnant.


Ah yes, that time when you are overwhelmed with good wishes and helpful…… friends. When you’ve spent months and months dreaming of how great you will look and feel. Only to find out that pregnancy tends to bring out the crazy… in EVERYONE!

So the baby is all snug in your womb and you and daddy are over the moon (:

You decide to keep it a secret and you plan how you’re going to tell your family, friends, practically anyone!

What you don’t know about and nobody has ever told you about is those crazy dreams, actions, and feelings that take over your otherwise normal emotional and mental states.

What I was never told that growing a baby really means your inner witch (I felt like Sarah with Winifred’s attitude) comes out to play…

(Okay, so you don’t want to eat them but seriously every child captures your eye and every baby is in need of big cuddles and snuggles, obviously!)

Anyway to the crazy


I got angry at my husband and refused to talk to him for a full day because of a dream (I “Pheobe’d” him). The dream its self-was pretty crazy with ex-girlfriends and fights with my dad. (This happened often)


I lost my shoes for three days (the only pair that felt comfortable enough to wear). I found them in the freezer?! Like what?


I ate nothing but oranges, carrots and bread (for bub 1) and zinger burgers (bub 2). Can’t beat those cravings right 🙂


I cried watching Hot Shots. The ridiculous movie to cry over. Seriously, I laughed at Titanic because everything seemed hilariously over the top then cried during Hot Shots. Let’s hope it was a delayed response and not a true break in mental capacity.


I developed a love for my husband’s clothes. I stole, wore and stretched his shirts and jumpers (in particular his hoody) because they were comfy. My clothes weren’t.


I couldn’t handle the smell of vanilla.

It’s vanilla one of the most bearable scents in the world and I couldn’t stomach it with bub number 2. I love it now and before falling pregnant. But, At that time it was bound to bring about nausea and vomit.


I slept for an entire day and then failed to sleep for the rest of the week except 20-30min naps in the morning. Yay, that was fun.


I developed a need to uncover my stomach (bub 2) because clothes felt itchy and restricting. Going into public was awful.


I developed an interesting response to the weather. During the summer months, I needed an extra blanket and complained when my husband turned the heater off. This is crazy because we live in outback Australia where the temperatures reach over 40 degrees Celsius most days and we see nights of around 36 degrees. During the winter I needed the air cooler on because I was too hot. (Both bubs were winter babies). Pretty sure hubby was contemplating moving out or kicking me outside.


I left my car to have a lunch date with hubby. Nice right? Well, what I also left was the keys in the ignition and the driver’s door open. Thankfully hubby saw this and sorted everything out.

What about you? What crazy things did you do?

❤ Taominx

How To Care For Your New Tattoo: A love letter to Baimeni.

*no affiliation links just a deep appreciation for the products. The only link is to the Baimeni website for your convenience.

Baimeni's HBBL.jpg
The Best Body Lotion ever!!


Sitting here newly embraced by the tantalizing scent of Baimeni’s Hydrating Organic Botanical Body Lotion and I can’t help but feel relaxed and wow’d.

But, why am I writing about this particular lotion, you ask? Well, this beauty was added to my skincare regime all because of my new tattoo.  (Since this is a rewrite! Thanks to cloud storage 😢my tattoo is now months older)

It took me a few days to work up the courage to use the Hydrating Organic Botanical Body Lotion. Ever since my tattoo had healed I have been using the honey face mask and facial cleanser as a way to maintain my tattoos integrity and the health of my skin. This tattoo has been hard enough to keep nice with my body reacting quite harshly to getting it done. Never known me to bleed so profusely when getting a tattoo. Thankfully I was blessed with a pretty awesome artist.

But back to the lotion, YOU NEED THIS LOTION. Quite simply it won’t fail you! It hasn’t failed me. My tattoo (scars and all because you know, 💁 bad reactions) is so incredibly soft and supple. My artist even comments on how much easier it will be to retouch my tattoo since I am keeping the scarring minimal. Because that is what this lotion has done.

Below is a picture of my tattoo you can see how badly my skin and body have taken to it. Seriously, I think I’ve given more blood to this tattoo then the blood donations I have made.

Alice sleeve
The Scarring from bad reactions and an unfortunate infection.


So, I really needed a good lotion. One that works every time. I know what your thinking there are heaps of lotions that work. I appreciate the thought and trust me I tried a few from well-named brands from chemists and grocery stores, brands that people have shared with me that are way above my affordability range, to the body shop, and even letting my skin take care of its self. Which it does quite well. And while most of those lotions worked nicely especially to the non-scared area. In my experience, nothing even came close to what Baimeni’s did. The scarring was the target area and it out worked every single competitor.

All the scars in my tattoo feel as soft as the surrounding skin and not once did I develop a reaction of any sort. One particular lotion caused my tattoo to itch and raise, never comfortable. Another left my skin dry if I didn’t use it often enough. This, in particular, concerns me because I like letting my skin maintain its self rather than becoming dependent on something.  But, Bameni (insert satisfied and love filled sigh here) didn’t dry out my skin when I stopped using it, I didn’t develop an itch, no rashes, nothing but beautiful skin and great tattoo colouring. Even now (i haven’t used the lotion for a week) my scars are soft and I credit Baimeni. I’ll admit I’ve started using the lotion on my C-section scars now because of how it treated my tattoo.

Baimeni’s Hydrating Organic Botanical Body Lotion and the Honey Face Mask and Facial Cleanser have carved an invaluable position in my skincare and are top in my tattoo care. I wish I had used this combination since the start. You can be sure I’ll be using them for the remainder of this tattoo and probably for my next tattoos. You know, unless Baimeni is looking into developing a long-term tattoo care range because I’m all for that.😍

I will, however, mention that you really need to take care when dealing with your tattoo as an open wound I would not use anything that isn’t wound care on it until its fully healed (7-14 days depending on your rate of healing and tattoo particulars) but afterwards I really do recommend trying Baimeni.

By now you’ve probably realised I adore all things Baimeni. And not to gush (any harder) but Jennifer and everyone involved with Baimeni have created a magical world of affordable skincare that works for you and your wallet. I mean really you can’t beat that. But don’t take my word as gospel go out and try it.

❤ Taominx



This post was a product of love and personal experience. In no way do I get preferential treatment from the company or anyone involved with the company. All products were bought for me and by me. I have not accepted any payment or product in exchange for this post.


It’s a Horrible Truth

I received my sons school report today.

My son is autistic but we are having trouble finding the support he needs.

It took us eight years to find someone willing to give us a diagnosis (not that I have received that report yet).

Until this year we had him placed in mainstream public school. I haven’t regretted our decision, until this moment.

My intelligent, beautiful son; was treated like a naughty child in that public school and I’m am incredible said to admit I treated him the same. (Behaviour wise).

I had trouble associating my experiences with my son and those of his public school teachers.

At home he loved reading, he enjoyed learning with numbers. He loved trying everything. When he started school, he became less interested. He stopped trying. I constantly blamed myself and got angry at him.

I would yell and become frustrated. I would try and talk to him and he promised to try harder just for him to slip back into the disruptive behaviour.

The teachers began to hold him back to finish his school work while the other kids had lunch and played. He was forced to repeat and was bullied regularly. Those bullies physically hurt him, he came home bruised on several occasions. However, it was my son that was named “Instigator”.

An autistic child, such as mine, can not express themselves to another. When frustrated my son will scream, when scared he will cower, when pushed he will retaliate with violence. He does not understand the intricacies of social conduct. He has no idea how friendships work. If a child hit him and called him friend he would know no different.

We were consistently bombarded with the schools “concerns” about him. We were routinely reminded that we had to have him “diagnosed” otherwise his treatment would stay the same.

I’ll be honest the first three years were liveable. Not perfect but his teachers were fairly understanding. Even though they were understanding they still stood around with their hands tied by red tape and proper professional behaviour. I’ll also note that those teachers were women.

Last year he had his first male teacher.

Everything fell apart, that fine line we had been treading snapped under the pressure.

Again and again this teacher pulled us into his class room. Stared down at as and tore our child apart.

Again and again he told us he could not “teach” a child like ours. He would tell us he didn’t have the time for our son. Never did he listen to our boy, or to us. But, that child or the staff member that pointed blame at my child was believed with no investigation.

My son began to suffer as he never had. He began to have night terrors. He told us everyday he was sick in hopes we would keep him home. His thick brown hair began to recede and fall from his head. My child was loosing weight and still his teacher treated him as a nuisance.

My husband and I began to hunt for another school one that would be willing to help. We failed to find a public School that took us seriously. Even more, that dreaded paperwork we had been trying to get since my son was three, was requested; Demanded until we wanted to scream aloud with anger.

Finally September rolled around and we found a doctor willing to listen to us. Even better she wrote a referral to a paediatrician. Because we had spent so long trying to work within our local community and we were failed. Our new paediatrician was not just out of town. He was out of state.

Within two months we had a appointments set to determine his condition.

We took him and they were supportive, the diagnosed him but I haven’t received the report yet. It’s been four months.

We had to bite the bullet and place our son in a private school we can’t afford just so he can have the support he needs to learn.

Even without the official report they are trying so hard for our son. They have him placed in special development classes to work on his social skills. His teachers take the time to talk him through his work and encourage him.

And we received his school report today.

I’m in tears, my wonderful son is trying so hard. His teachers praise him for his developments, slow as they might be. They praise him for the kind gentle child that he is.

He isn’t bullied, in fact, the other children encourage him. He plays alone because that is his choice.

Never have I felt so completely heart broken and so unbelievably happy at the same time.

This post is from 2015, I wrote and posted it on my first WordPress blog. As Me and Miss Tay is the one I want to keep I’m now posting it here.

So a quick update on my boy.

It took us nine, NINE! months to receive his ASD report and then it was only thanks to that brilliant private school that took him in. The harassed the Doctors and hunted it down because my queries were going unanswered. The even payed the overdue payments (I refused to pay the last of my bill until I saw the report). This school has been a god send (side note it’s a Catholic school) he’s advanced, he may never be an “A” student but going from a failing student to a “D” and sometimes “C” student is just amazing.

He has the support of the whole school. I’ve seen students calm him when he was in a meltdown, I’ve seen students try and teach him, with patience beyond their years, how to play sports. He gets invited to birthdays, his teachers are supportive and he has a special aid to help him.

This school was the best thing that ever happened to our boy.

His current teacher and I, don’t see eye to eye all the time but thats fine she’s pushing Dante’s limits. We, she and I, just have different methods of teaching. She thinks I should watch him do everything and I mean everything he does. Where I believe for my som to become a functioning adult he needs to be taught to take responsibility for himself and his actions.

Her way has me micro managing him and mine has a list of chores (written down so he can see them, of course) that he has to do everyday after school.

I raised him from day one my way, but he likes her way, and why wouldn’t he everybody else does everything for him and he has uninterrupted attention.

But he’s succeeding and that’s all that matters.



PS I need to find a way to thank this school.

Sleep? What’s sleep? A Mummy’s Struggle.

I’m sitting in a darkened room. The dawns light creeping across the walls as I stare into the eyes of the demon spawn I call my daughter.

She smiles at me and even as tired as I am my heart warms at the sight. I know all day today I’m going to be stressed, I’m going to look pale and drawn, I’m going to snap at the littlest things and I’m going to pass out on the couch at some point.

I also know that I have a lot to do today, between getting my son ready for school and completing my assessment for my Diploma and all those chores mummy’s like me have to do. Today is going to feel similar to those mornings after a long forgotten night with cocktails in my hand.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been as tired as when I became a parent to the baby in my arms.

My son, who at this point may just be my favourite (shhh), was a good baby. At 6 weeks old he slept through the night. At 2 he was in his own bed (until early morning which would be when he’d climb into mine).

However, the child in my arms I’ve struggled with setting a routine.

I’ve tried the bath, bottle, and bed.

I’ve tried letting her cry (that just caused an increase of paranoia and depression)

I’ve tried rocking her to sleep in a dark room

I’ve tried shushing toys

Trust me, I’ve tried it!

Even tried baby massage and Essential oils. This sweet child that I hold in my arms just won’t go down until she’s ready. That time is usually after Daddy comes home from work. She matches his hours and it’s frazzling mine.

Daddy works nights so he isn’t home until well after midnight sometimes it will be 3 am before he’s home and she just won’t go down without seeing him.

He can come home and pick her up, he’ll talk to her and within 20 minutes his little girl will be asleep.

Leaving mummy exasperated and exhausted!

Tonight… was different I thought I was making headway. I thought I was getting somewhere.

I was wrong!!!!

See, at one stage I was the luckiest mum in the world and both kids would be asleep by ten and not get up until 8 am.  When the alarm went off. Then something changed….

I know what changed! Miss Tay was weaned off the boob, refused the bottle and Daddy tried to save Mummy’s sanity by putting Miss Tay to sleep. It was 1 am that morning before she exhausted both of us and herself to sleep.

Then a trend started, Daddy was the only one that could put her to sleep. I figured “Hey, that’s cool, once my milk has dried up and she used to not having boob I’ll have an easier time putting her to sleep”

Dream on Mama!!!

Miss Tay decided if she wasn’t getting what she wanted Mummy wouldn’t get what she wanted!

She screamed and screamed, and screamed and chucked a fit, and Once again Daddy came to the rescue and Demon spawn Tay was down in twenty minutes.

Rinse and repeat!

For months this mummy has been trying to find a way to get her baby sleeping and tonight was by far the worst.

My little Princess surprised us all when at 11 pm she was sound asleep. (Enter mummy cheer here) I took the advantage and by 11:30 I was asleep. Ahhh the bliss, the sweet, sweet calm of sleep on my poor tired itchy eyes. Imagine my surprise when 2 am hit and Daddy being still awake had to attempt to put Miss Tay BACK to sleep. Oh, dear poor Daddy!

At 3 am Daddy had enough and Miss Tay was promptly dropped on the mattress beside me. Unceremoniously waking this mummy up with a start.

It’s now 7:30 am and Miss Tay is still going strong. She’s chattering, and laughing, she’s pulled toys out and she’s already had breakfast. I’ve changed her nappy twice and filled her “bottle” four times.

She’s tricked me several times by curling up in my arms and relaxing almost to the point I had thought I won.

But this round goes to Miss Tay, she’s bouncing and on top of the world and Mummy has to start school preparations.

Ahhh, sleep! What is sleep! How I wish for a night of cocktails but right now I’d take more than four hours sleep.

Oh, look, the other ones up now too!


(The Tired Mummy)

It’s okay to feel like a failure!

No mother, hell no person, has ever succeeded the first time. It’s the human condition that you will always make mistakes. You will always fail and you will always be hurt. There is nothing in life that isn’t worth all of those feelings.

As a mother most days feel like I’m failing because, like many moms, I sit there and compare myself to celebrity mums, mum friends, and parenting gurus. And with every comparison I feel less equipped to handle mother hood. On the flip side I compare myself to mothers that actually fail and feel like a super mum.

But generally its failure I feel. I mean on my Facebook I have so many mothers that have regular get togethers with other mums and there is nothing but smiles. I have mums that write about there children, even when the misbehave, in such a way that it feels like they have endless patience and limitless happiness no matter the situation, I have mums that have full time jobs, never miss the gym, and never miss school activities. There’s mums that do crafts regularly with their kids, or go camping and traveling all the time. I have mums that are constantly sharing there new DIY projects that look as good as the ones on Pinterest and I feel inadequate.

I tell myself that it isn’t healthy to compare myself to these women but I can’t help it. They are super mums and I am me.

Now, I love being a mum. I love having my babies and I love sharing them. But, I don’t go out a lot. I don’t go shopping for anything that’s not food related. I don’t have regular get togethers with other mummies, I don’t work, and I don’t have kids that want to do crafts. My oldest is at school all day and my youngest is best friends with Peppa Pig and Dora.

All of that is ok

My kids are creative kids with large imaginations. My kids are independent but still know that they can ask for help. My kids love books, even if only one can read (the other is two). They eat and love their fruits and vegetables. They are gentle and kind and they have attitudes to rival most sixteen year olds. My kids love the outdoors as much as they love the TV.

When I think about my kids I know that they will do exactly what the want to do with their lives. Because they sure as hell love doing exactly what they want now.

So I’m ok being a failure as a mum because so far my kids are winning!


Why I am Proud to be a C-Section Mum!

So, back in early December my bestie had her bubba via emergency c-section at 26 weeks, bubbas doing brilliantly by the way. Anyway, one of the first things she said to me was how amazing I was for undergoing a Caesarian section. I’ll be honest this was the weirdest comment I’ve ever received.

I’m a belly birth mum, I have two kids, Both caesarian births the first was an emergency after two failed attempts at induction and no labour. The second was a decision made due Gestational Diabetes and having my baby away from the local hospital. (We’ve had plenty of mistakes and mishaps happen locally and I didn’t trust them) I still waited until 39+2 to have the second.

I have never known a “normal” birth (for lack of a better word). My mother, my aunt and my sister are all belly mums. Though my mum still managed a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Caesarean). So to hear that what I did was amazing was kinda foreign. I mean c-sections were kinda the norm for me and I’ve always believed that giving birth was amazing no matter how it came about.

But, I began to think about it and I talked to other belly mums. We shared stories of our births and stories of our treatments. I was amazed to find out how many belly mums were actually treated poorly by other mums because the believed that by having a Caesarean we were “choosing” the easy way out!

I was appalled, I had always been jealous of other mums because they got to experience a labor. But when I, myself, was faced with a prejudiced comment about my birth my heart broke.

A lady, I didn’t even know, over heard me tell my son (now 11) about how I had him via C-section and she had the nerve to tell me. Not only that I must have been a slut to have a child so young but that I didn’t deserve my child as I chose the easy way out of delivery. She raved on further by telling me that she wouldn’t be surprised if I was receiving welfare payments just so I could dump my child on someone else to drink the weekends away.

I walked away, I had my son with me and I didn’t need to add any more negativity to the situation. I was absolutely gob smacked. How could someone judge so harshly?

After I got home, I set my son up with food and a drink and put a movie on. As I watched him eat and laugh I became angry.

Like every other mother, I literally put my life on the line to become a mother. My every breath and every choice, I make knowing it will affect my child and yet I had been so badly disrespected!

I thought back to my experience with his birth. Did you know that I reacted badly to some of the drugs that they used on me in order to have my son?

My first Caesarean section saw me temporarily paralysed from the neck down, having trouble breathing, throwing up and not being able to move my head. I was choking on vomit! My husband had to physically move my head in order for me to throw up in a kidney dish under my cheek. What makes it worse that once he moved my head, I couldn’t do anything but drool out the corner of my mouth.

I was finally administered yet another drug to counter act the reaction from the first. Unfortunately, for me, I seriously can’t remember what drug set me off and it’s not written anywhere in the birth notes.

So, I became a belly mum feeling like a failure as I never had a labor. I reacted badly to the anaesthesia and didn’t get to hold my son for his first hour of life.

After that experience, I found it hard to connect to my child.

It wasn’t until my second preganacy that my eyes were truly opened to the risk I was putting myself through when my Doctor had me read and sign a form listing all the risks of a Caesarean birth. I almost cancelled the whole damn thing!!!!

While all births have risks, Caesarian births have a higher risk then vaginal births with a longer recovery time (usually). A mummy can be sent home as early as 5 hours after birth. A belly mummy won’t be able to leave for at least 24 hrs and generally not before day 3! A mummy will heal is around 1-2 weeks a belly mummy can spend 4-8 weeks healing and a further 6 months before feeling confident enough to start working out again.

Further more a belly mum CANNOT drive before 6 weeks after and if you do you will void your insurance.

Here is a list of the most common complications for Belly mums

– Infection.
– Heavy blood loss.
– A blood clot in the legs or lungs.
– Nausea, vomiting, and severe headache after the delivery (related to anesthesia and the abdominal procedure).
– Bowel problems, such as constipation or when the intestines stop moving waste material normally (ileus).
– Injury to another organ (such as the bladder). This can occur during surgery.
– Maternal death (very rare). About 2 in 100,000 cesareans result in maternal death.

Cesarean risks for the bubba include:

– Injury during the delivery.
– Need for special care in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).
– Immature lungs and breathing problems, if the due date has been miscalculated or the infant is delivered before 39 weeks of gestation.

Long-term risks of cesarean section

Mummas who have a caesarian scar have slightly higher long-term risks. These risks increase with each additional cesarean delivery and can include:

– Breaking open of the incision scar during a later pregnancy or labor (uterine rapture)
– Placenta previa, the growth of the placenta low in the uterus, blocking the cervix.
– Placenta accreta, placenta increta, placenta percreta (least to most severe). These Are when the placenta grows deeper into the uterine wall than normal. This can lead to severe bleeding after childbirth and may lead to mummy having to have a hysterectomy.

I was so freaked out, I had never been faced with the seriousness of a Caesarian before and here I was signing a piece of paper, my sister sitting beside me in shock, that listed all these issues we had never been told about. We had the same Doctor at our local hospital and all he ever said was that it was a simple procedure.

It was empowering to know that I had done that for my children and would -*continue to do. Because, as the second Caesarian was planned, I was informed that a third pregnancy would see me having a Caesarian section no matter what I wanted. I will NEVER know what labour and birth would be like. So having this stranger treat me with such contempt made me angry.

I am proud to be a belly mum!! And I’ll always be proud to be a belly mum. I risked my life for my babies and no shallow women’s comments will ever take that from me.


How To Stay Motivated As a Stay at Home Mum.

If You’re like me staying motivated as a full-time mum is hard work! I know I’ve lost the will to even brush my hair. Forget trying to maintain friendships with your childless friends. Maintaining a connection with your mummy friends is hard enough. Oh, and forget starting something like study or a business. The motivation just drains right out of you when you hear


Those gentle sounds that rip the sleep away from you with the gentleness of a bikini wax after childbirth. The tones of your loving demon spawn creations that think 6 in the morning is the perfect time to start tearing through the house like hounds from hell throwing their clothes and dirty socks in every direction.

God forbid it if you were to stay in bed too long. Only to find that your youngest has attempted to make his own cereal and his tiny little pyjamas are now soaked in milk just like the rest of the kitchen (if you’re lucky it’ll be the kitchen).

I know every mum has had morning just like this!

 Well, no, I haven’t had a morning “Just Like That”

 My youngest is a girl (almost 2) and I only have two kids. The oldest is soon to be 12.  Getting up early is an almost laughable concept when it comes to him.

However, when he was younger (about 4) he did, in fact, wake me up to milk all over the kitchen floor (and himself) the fridge open and some Matchbox cars in the TURNED-ON microwave. Sizzle and zap went the little cars and smash and bang went my little microwave. To add to the horror of the morning, he had also turned the heater on and his remote-controlled car sat so close its side was becoming a mangled twisted clump of plastic (did I mention it was summer) and his potty, had been tipped on its side the contents soaking into the carpet at an ever-increasing rate.

I eventually found him in his bedroom drawing on the walls and his pyjamas hardened where the milk had dried.

I honestly think that I would prefer my imaginary setting to that hell of a morning.

My daughter, she’s so different. She’ll let me sleep in… She just won’t let me get to sleep.  Last night she had my husband and I up until 3 am. Not that that is anything new to my husband he always stays up late! Curse of the night shift worker!

And wouldn’t you know it I decided I needed something to do with my time when she came along so I started a course… A nine-month course that has, so far, taken me 18 months to attempt to finish. What with baby brain and PND, the motivation to complete the thing completely vanished. Then I thought “You know, I want to write for a living, I’m going to start a blog” I never started it to make money, I wanted to learn from it! Hell, I had attempted a blog before and just never bothered past the first post. But here I am a full-time mummy, student, and a part-time blogger.

I still had (have) days where I can’t find my motivation. So, I began hunting ways to try and maintain my motivation. I was inundated with blogs and self-help guides. I found mountains of health quizzes and gurus. I tried a lot, but I simply couldn’t find a way to balance my duties and my pleasures. I found myself concentrating on one thing or the other.

 I began noticing that if I concentrated on my blog the house work began to suffer, if I concentrated on “mum duties” I lost all hours of the day playing with dollies and making bubbles or Lego houses, if I concentrated on my study I would just stare at the work I had already completed, scratching my head thinking “what the ….” And I would have to restart everything I had done in the past.

I tried making schedules that would be decimated before the printer ink could dry, I tried to work during nap times and found that I couldn’t get my brain to concentrate on my work when I, finally, had the chance to watch a show I’ve wanted to for ages. I love reading but I haven’t read a book since the seventh Harry Potter Book had been released.

Nothing seemed to pull my workload into order. But I’ve since discovered a way that I can do my things while still maintaining the house, kids, bills, and my sanity.

It’s nothing great, nothing profound. It’s nothing even drastic. My life is still chaotic and the demands on my time are ever growing.

Right now, as I sit here writing, my husband is trying to get my attention so he can share the game he is playing with me. My daughter is at my feet eating chips and nuggets, watching Daniel Tiger. But I am writing, I am functioning, and my house is… reasonably clean. I have taken care of the bills and I have dinner cooking. All the animals have been feed and all I did was change a couple of things.

My first Change was to do everything, EVERYTHING!! To do with ANYTHING I could on my phone.


Because most of my interests take place in WORD and guess what?

 Word now has an app and all your documents can be accessed on anything that word can be placed on. Meaning anything I type on my phone I can access on my computer or Ipad. Any changes and edits I save will be on all my other access points.

My blog is powered by WORDPRESS and guess what it has an app too!!!

My course work can be accessed via the internet and I can share my documents from my Phone with my course provider.

Bonus, my kids don’t care what’s on my phone when it’s in my hand. But they sure as hell love to know what’s on the computer if I’m sitting at that. I can (and do) carry my phone everywhere. I can literally walk around the house reading my work back to myself to make sure it sounds right. I can edit my work while I cook dinner. Hell, I can even read a blog entry or two when I steal five minutes to pee. (just don’t drop it in, which in case you were wondering, yes, I have done. Thank god for phone covers and antiseptic wipes and washes)

The next change was I increased my water intake. I still have my coffee but I always make sure that I follow it with some water.


Because not only is it helping me lose weight but it keeps my mind clear. A dehydrated brain is easily distracted and doesn’t function at its fullest capacity. I’ve noticed that my ability to withstand my kids is far outlasting their desire to annoy me!!! (one for mum) I sleep better even if I can’t sleep however long I’d like and I’ve been noticing that foods like McDonalds and KFC are less appealing. I have more energy and just feel better all round.

My third change was to get some air!!

Even if it’s just sitting on the veranda waiting for that inevitable “mum” call.


To gain clarity and peace of mind, sitting in the fresh air with a cup of coffee instead of in front of the TV lets your mind relax. You can breathe deeper and let the stuffiness of the house go. I at the very least leave the front door open. It’s amazing how much some fresh air helps. I wouldn’t suggest just going to the shops, I haven’t had any luck with that, it feels like a chore and I end up doing the shopping or doing errands. Taking the kids to the park works, or just staying outside to play in the sunshine. I once had all three of my sister’s kids stay a week with me while she was away and to get fresh air we had BBQ for dinner… a lot. Getting fresh air helps ground me so much that I go outside every morning just to breathe.

Don’t be afraid to cry

I hate crying, it makes me feel weak. I’m not weak. I know it but crying makes me feel like I’m failing so why would I tell you not to be afraid of crying?

Because crying is cathartic, it releases stress, worry, loneliness, sorrow, and anger. You might feel yuck after a cry but a good crying session can see your mind feeling lighter and with you thinking straighter. Nothing like an emotional reboot to help with your motivation.

My biggest change was I stopped caring and I put myself first!!

I stopped caring about being consistent with my course work because life is chaotic and messy, I stopped caring that I had days that I couldn’t be the perfect mum, because no matter what I’m doing my best and they are both healthy and alive. I stopped caring about not getting a blog up every week because I am a mum. I am a single person who does what she does because she loves it. If I have a week where I can’t find my voice, then so be it. I would honestly prefer a post I care about then one written without emotion.

I will still chase after my kids and spend hours playing with them, but I now understand that I come first too. Not all the time, not even a lot of the time. But sometimes Mummy comes first.

It’s not a change that comes easily because I will always have those moments where I feel guilty about not putting an assessment through, or when I haven’t posted in two weeks, or even when I have a pile of clothes in the laundry and I’m wearing my husband’s jocks.

Are you disappointed?? Were you looking for the “sure-fire” way to help your motivation??

Well, stop! Only you can find the way to keep your motivation going. Only you can find the way to make it work. You are not me, you are not anybody else. We can offer helpful hints and tell you how we manage it.

I adapted to my family’s needs and learned to put myself first, I feel guilty for doing so but I’m so much happier now that I can follow my own interests. My kids are happier because I’m more willing to spend time with them. My husband is happier because I smile and laugh more.

All I can say, as so many have said before me, is find a way to put you first. I know you will scoff and roll your eyes. You’re probably thinking that it’s impossible because you have so much to do.

 But do you remember your mum telling you that you will miss school when it was over, or that you will have a great time a party, or that you would appreciate the effort you put into your project?

Don’t lie, I know you remember, I know you miss school and you had a great time at that party and the effort you put into that project reflected the response you received back.  This moment is like those. Until you find your way you won’t believe me, you’ll think I’m full of it.

Remember that when you share your story with somebody else.


Living With Depression!

If there is one thing so many people can understand it’s Depression, but do non-sufferers really understand the full weight you carry? Or just not try and understand?

I’ve never really taken the time to understand depression even when being assailed by its demons. Even bringing up depression has friends and family reeling “no! you don’t!” They’d say or simply scoff and brush it off “you’re just having a bad day”

A bad day…..

A bad is when you blow a tire and you 45 mins late to an important meeting! A bad day is when your kids just won’t let you pee by yourself and then you spill milk all over the shopping centre floor! A bad day is when you simply don’t get enough sleep so you make mistakes at work which forces you to have to redo everything!

That’s a bad day!

My “Bad Days” consist of being physically sick because my mind is full of shadows, my bad days are not moving from bed all day and sleeping my life away because I just can’t see the benefits of living! My Bad days are watching everyone around me through a grey haze because I don’t fit in or feel like I should even bother, I’m convinced those same people hate me but won’t tell me, I’m convinced they will toss me out like an old sandwich… No remorse, no concern, nothing holding them back from completely wiping me from their lives and memories.

My “bad days”,, as you call it, are warped into desperation and illness. I’ll spend nights not sleeping because my mind won’t stop telling me the world doesn’t want me! I’ll spend days not eating because my emotions are just so very dark that I’m feeling incredibly sick. I’ll do all these things day in and day out.

My bad days are more than my good days. If I asked a non-suffer when there bad days like mine were I bet they’d probably say a few times a year. You’re a few times a year can be our “good days”!

Swallow that!
Let that marinate in your minds eye… tell me if you can live in the shadows like we do!

I’m not writing this so that I can gain sympathy, I’m not writing this because I want attention. I don’t want that attention! I hate having my life tainted with depression and anxiety!
I want to love my life!
My life is awesome!
I can understand, logically, that I am incredibly lucky but emotionally I’m always waiting for the fall out. Mentally I’m always fighting with myself to recognise the awesomeness that is my life! I’m tired, mentally, emotionally and physically tired of fighting myself and then fighting the pitfalls of life.
I’m tired!

I don’t want your sympathy.
Your empathy… maybe.
Your understanding….. yes!
Your support…… most definitely!

Right now I’m sitting here thinking “gee you sound like a whinging little parasite, who cares about your issues? Nobody is going to want to read this you’re wasting your time! You’re not important enough for this to matter! Why would you bother with this post? Everyone is going to think you are only after the attention. Nobody likes those people who beg for attention! Scorn…. ridicule… that’s all you’re going to get because they can see through you and your attempts at bringing awareness!”

But I want to write this because I DO want to share with you! I want to show people they aren’t alone! And right now, with my depression swirling around my head, I think that this is the PERFECT time for ME to write about it!

Do you know what depression is?? Do you know how to combat it?? Do you know who to see when it hits?? I’ll be honest I’m horrible at all those things when it comes to me!

But when it comes to others I’m quite happy to show you the way!

And my blog is how I’m going to!

So, What is depression?

Anyone can feel depressed, most people have. But BEING depressed is different. Depression is the onset of low emotions that persist for days, weeks, and months at a time. Some sufferers have depression so bad that their low moods can last years. It can affect you physically as well. Lots of sufferers deal with headaches, nausea, and aches and pains. A lot of sufferers even gain or lose weight as their moods change. I, myself, binge eat when my mood plummets and then it’s a vicious cycle I get depressed about my weight then I eat and get depressed about how much I’m eating.

How does it affect you?

Depression affects you in various ways. Including the way you think and act. Many believe that depression is about low and negative moods, the moods are just one aspect to how you can be affected.

So, What are the signs?

• Lowered self esteem and/or self worth
• Changes In sleep
• Changes in appetite
• Changes in sexual drives (decrease or absent)
• Uncontrollable emotional states ( generally towards the negative! Feeling guilty, inadequate, pessimistic anger, irritability, and anxiety, etc),
• Varying Emotion levels (feeling down in the morning but gradually feeling better as the day continues)
• Reduced Pain Tolerance (lowered pain thresholds and an increase of persistent ailments)
• Poor Concentration And Memory ( some sufferers feel demented)
• Poor Motivation
• Less likely to go out
• Failure to finish work/school work
• Withdrawing from friends and family
• Relying on alcohol or sedatives
• Inability to enjoy normal activities (activities they have enjoyed in the past)
• An increase of negative thoughts (I’m a failure, it’s my fault, everyone would be better off without me, etc)
• Feeling tired and drained constantly
• Always sick
• Headaches and muscles pains
• Churning Stomach/nausea

These signs and symptoms are continually and may present at any time and sometimes for no reason.

So, How do you treat depression?

If you’re lucky you can get through it without intervention. Most people however employ treatments that deal with depression through Psychological (therapy) means, Pharmaceutical means, or with Natural Medicines and Therapies (meditation, aromatherapy, etc).

Psychological Therapies can be done alone or in groups. The most common and most effective treatment is Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT). It is a structured treatment that works by identifying thoughts and behaviours that cause depression or those that hinder recovery. This treatment method teaches you to think rationally about the issue at hand and to alter negative thoughts and behaviour patterns or reactions into something more realistic and positive.

The other treatments are Interpersonal Therapy (IPT), Behaviour Therapy, Mindfulness-based Congnitive Therapy (MBCT)

Pharmaceutical forms of treatments don’t just consist of antidepressants. More severe cases, use antipsychotics, mood stabilisers, and antidepressants to combat their conditions (such as Bipolar Disorder and Psychosis).

There are a lot of antidepressants to choose from. The antidepressant a suffer ends up using can be one of SIX types. All work, all have side effects and all are given based on many factors, medical history, age, symptoms, other medications, severity, pregnancy or breastfeeding (if you’re a women). They vary from person to person, so finding the right antidepressant and treatment for a single sufferer can take months. It’s, however, extremely important to find a treatment method that works for you! Forget how your best friend, sister, aunt, neighbour is doing. It’s all about YOU!

The most commonly used type of antidepressant in Australia are Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRI’s). These include Sertralines, Citaloprcem, Escitalopram, Paraoxetine, Fluoxetine, and Fluvoxamine. All of the SSRI’s are generally well tolerated and non-sedating (generally).

Others types of antidepressants are

Serotonin and Noradrenaline Reuptake Inhibitors (SNRI’s have fewer side effects, prescribed for severe depression and are safer when overdose occurs),

Reversible Inhibitors of Monoamine Oxidase A (RIMA’s have fewer side effects, non-sedating, less effective treating severe depression, help with anxiety and sleeping difficulties),

TriCyclic Antidepressants (TCA’s are effective but harmful, affects newer drugs ie SSRI’s, likely to cause low blood pressure),

Noradrenaline-Serotonin Specific Antidepressants (NaSSA’s are newer antidepressants, helpful with anxiety and sleeping, generally low in sexual side effects ie drop in desire/ability, may cause weight gain),

Noradrenaline Reuptake Inhibitors (NARI’s designed to work selectively on Noradrenaline, less likely to cause drowsiness/sleepiness, after the initial does is likely to cause restless sleeping patterns, increase of sweat production, cause sexual difficulties, cause urination difficulties, increase heart rate).

This blog is important to me and mental illness is close to my heart. I appreciate you reading and hope you learnt something. Even if it’s just to listen harder when someone says they are having a “bad day”. Please if you believe a friend or loved one is suffering help can be reached at anytime on the following 24 hr Free call phone services.

1300 22 46 36


SANE Mental Illness Helpline
1800 688 382

The information I have shared to day can be found on the Beyondblue website (linked above) as well as a Mental Health check list.

The information used in today’s blog can also be found on Black Dog Institute website.

Both of these websites hold vast amounts of information and are in an easy to read format. I found them both truly helpful when researching this condition.

Take care of each other


As always, I am not affiliated with any of the brands, websites or products showcased in this blog. This blog was written based on personal experiences and research. Any information in this blog has been shared by me with the intent of distributing information, this information is in no way to be used as medically diagnostic. I am not trained medically and am simply reciting information available to the public in hopes of helping sufferers and there family to seek professional help from certified practitioners.