Wonderland Wanderess

Valentine's Day ⸺the epic day of love, originating in the year 496 in memory of the Roman priest, St Valentine.  Marriage had been ruled illegal but Valentine cared not. He was a champion of love and married couples regardless—a bold act which would cost him his life. Upon learning of Valentine's disregard for the laws of his land, Emperor Claudius II sentenced him to death. He was executed on February 14th but not before he'd fallen in love with the prison guard's daughter, whom he wrote his last words to — a love letter signed, 'Your Valentine' And thus, the tradition of Valentine's Day came into being. What a beautiful legacy to leave behind, born of equal parts love, death, grief and courage, not unlike my own Valentine's Day tragedy. February 14th, 2012 was the day my boys and I buried their Angel Daddy and one of the greatest loves of my life — Chris. Little Lachlan not even yet 2 years old, Christopher Jr. barely the size of a cherry in

No parent signs up for children with behavioural or emotional disabilities. Heck, if it worked that way, none of us would. But oh, what a gift would be lost to this world. Difficult children grow into strong willed adults, champions of the causes they believe in; dream chasers, peacemakers, and driven entrepreneurs.  They are worth all the tears, sleepless nights, judgemental stares, and specialist appointments.   I was a difficult child; now I am raising one. I know you are exhausted, Mumma, but to your little boy, you are Wonder Woman , battling his demons and bringing calm to the chaos of his overwhelmed mind. Breathe—you've got this.   Dad, I see you struggling with the weight of working hard, only to come home to World War III in your living room, when all you want is peace and quiet.   To the single parent weeping in your car, after your daughter threw the mother of all tantrums in the supermarket, I think you are a rock star. ~    These children see the world in

People say, " you don't know what you've got until it's gone" but the truth is, with Brad, I always knew.  The statement,  "True friends are like diamonds, precious but rare..." is so, so very true and it was never lost on me, that Brad was one of my diamonds.    2012 was, undoubtedly, the worst year of my life and the final kick in the guts, just one day before it ended, was a phone call during which I learned my best friend had left this world.  I will never forget the crashing in my ears, the sinking pit in my stomach, my knees hitting the floor as my legs gave way, the unshakeable belief that every person I loved seemed cursed to die.  Life seemed hell bent on slamming me back to the floor again, every time I found my feet. ~ To go back to where it all began, Brad was originally close mates with Dean, the biological father of my eldest son.  Early on in my pregnancy, when Dean and I were still together, Brad often looked out for me, ensuring

My dark passenger.  That ever present voice, quiet and gentle as a whisper at first, 'til it spins dread and fear like spider webs throughout every happy moment.  Then it crouches in the shadows, in the wake of its deception, waiting to pounce and sink its claws in for the kill.  My heart rate increases, my breath falters, my body shakes and sweat pours from my palms.  I'm now in fight or flight mode, in response to whatever situation, place or environment I've found myself in.  My body wants to run and my brain is preparing it for just that, pumping adrenaline through my veins.   I've lost count of the amount of times people have made ignorant comments, all to more or less the same effect- anxiety can be conquered with something as simple as mind over matter ..... but when half of me wants only to run and hide, while the other half  is gearing up to stay and fight the generally non-existent threat, to battle for rational calm amidst the fictional chaos, tell me

Trigger Warning: This post contains graphic detail and mature content that some may find distressing. They say, write the thing you are most afraid to write ...... well, here I go- this is the story I never wanted to tell, the story I still have such vivid nightmares about. You would think with all I have already told, how could my heart hold still darker truths untold.  The reality is, very few people know the worst of my life story.  It doesn't even end with this heartbreaking tale.    I dare say there'll be a lot who will ask why, why now, after all these years, dredge up so much pain but me, I live with this affliction shackled to my very being, every day of my life. This one night has haunted me for over 11 years but I rarely speak of it.  The shame is suffocating, though try as I might, I can never understand why I feel it.  I did nothing to deserve what they did to me.   Other than my mother, brother and the doctors who treated me, until now, the only other