What happens when life gets confusing?

Why I Choose to Use the Word Mentor Instead of Life Coach.

I want to help people be happy, healthy and free from the pressure society places upon them. This is why I have spent years perfecting my psychic readings to be more guidance from beyond than fortune telling gimmicks. It is why I have, and continue to study ways to be a successful life coach, healer and support to the clients who come to me.

I am just not comfortable using the term life coach to describe my services, I don't feel like I am a coach, I'm not running plays for you or clapping from the sideline. I am right there on the field, not catching the ball, that is after all still your job, but I am supporting you, we are on the same team. I show you catching the hardest ball is possible, and then I watch as you start to believe you really can catch it.

You will have to forgive me the clunky sports analogy, it is an area in life where I have never been (and probably never will be), motivated to be an expert. The word coach makes me think of sports, ignoring pain and tough love. Many life coaches tell you tough love is needed, so I guess for them coach is the right word. It just isn't the word for me, for what I offer my clients.

I use mentor because it comes from a place of love and connection. Don't get me wrong, I know there must be boundaries between myself and my clients, but I am deeply invested in helping everyone who comes to me. As your spiritual mentor I hold space with you, let you express your self and then together we find the path forward.

My sessions are based on the practices of life coaching, however they go deeper on a spiritual level and your guides and sometimes past loved ones are there with us. I use my natural compassion, psychic mediumship, and intuition as I truly listen to what not only your physical self, but your soul is saying.

We use the first sessions to delve deeply into your subconscious and find what holds you back and how we can change your limiting beliefs. We set goals and break them down into manageable steps. We talk confidentially about your life, and mine, and how to overcome comfortable habits which no longer serve us.

As your mentor, it is my place to nurture you, encourage you, praise you, and celebrate you. I will never judge you, rush you, mislead you or give up on you. From me you will get the truth, but, it will never be cold or hard. I believe by nurturing you and giving you space to forgive and nurture yourself anything is possible.

Now I know you are going to ask how I know anything is possible, and that is a good question. I grew up as a victim, never having a voice of my own, believing I was as worthless as those meant to nurture me said I was. I took this victimhood into adult life, I was not an active participant, I allowed things to happen to me (both good and bad) instead of taking control of my future.

I am a survivour of childhood abuse, death defying situations, sexual assult, self harming behaviours, suicide attempts and self loathing. I have not only survived though, I have thrived. All these things made me stronger, gave me the life experience to be able to share and help others. I have shed the victim skin, and now shine as my own hero, and a pioneer for those ready to step forward and find their own sparkle.

It took over 40 years to reach this place where I am able to see my strength and the gifts I have to offer the world. I now stand tall, shruging off the harsh judgements of society. I know my worth and I know my goals. I see beauty and love from the Divine everywhere, and yet still know the value of our shadow selves. I am profoundly spiritual, deeply grounded, always authentic and 100% motivated to help my clients see how unique and wonderfully sacred their soul is.

If you would like to know more about the experiences which have shaped me, check out my other blogposts. If you would like to know more about my mentoring packages, send me an email or find me on Facebook, twitter, Instagram or YouTube.

Why Keeping a Messy, Eligible Journal Is the Best Thing I've Ever Done.

We live in a hectic, non stop world. As much as we may want to stop and smell the roses, we are not always able to find the time. Just over two years ago I was go, go, go, I had a hard job which paid great money, with no children my husband and I could splurge on anything we wanted, without worrying about monetary consequences. Inevitably the long hours and stress caught up with me. I kept telling people I would find a new career, but when you are working fifty plus hours a week there is no time to do anything much more than work, eat and sleep.

So there I was, full of inner turmoil, and yet, still unwilling to stop and look at what I was doing to my mental, emotional and physical health. I started going to doctors looking for them to tell me what was wrong, why couldn't I get to sleep, but also why once asleep I couldn't wake up? Why did I always seem to be suffering stomach and digestive upsets? Why was I suffering permanent tension headaches and frequent migraines? 

Finally a doctor told me it was, very mild anxiety, nothing to worry about, just meditate more often and things will be fine. So I meditated, and meditated, I tried mindfulness, guided mediation, hypnosis, floating in water. If it was said to help anxiety I tried it. I kept on ignoring the increasingly obvious warning signs, as long as I showed up and did my job, no one else seemed to care anyway. I fell into the trap waiting for many of us with "high functioning" chronic or mental illness. I didn't look sick, so nobody, not even myself realised how sick I was.

So after about two years of being told not to worry by doctors, and racking up sick days I couldn′t explain properly even to myself I ended up in a very dark place. You see, there was nothing very mild about my anxiety (which we now know followed me from childhood), and to make it an extra big ball of no fun at all, major depression decided to join my very morbid party. I went from high functioning to an almost comatose mess practically over night.

Watching Netflix on my laptop, or playing games on my phone became my daily crutch, an escape from a reality I wanted nothing to do with. As the days went on I became more and more despondent, and a greater danger to self. Eventually I found myself being admitted to the Cairns Mental Health Unit, a place which saved my life by starting me on a two year long quest to find my self acceptance and inner peace.

My first moment in the MHU was traumatic, I had to give up all devices with cameras, goodbye laptop, so long phone. 

I was distraught, how would I write without my laptop? 

How would I live without internet and text messages?

One of the nurses suggested I could be old fashioned and write by hand. So I began putting my thoughts down in blue ink on blank printer paper. My husband and friends all caught on quick and brought me notepads, journals and pens. So I wrote, in blue, black, red, purple and green. I wrote poems, thoughts, and how my day progressed. I wrote letters to my loved ones which I never shared. I started writing in different journals for different things.

I had a recovery journal, to write about my treatment and diagnoses, a daily journal to write about mundane boring things, a dream journal, a spiritual and emotional journal, a shadow journal, and a journal to write about my childhood and past traumas. So many books and so many colours, but I really did begin to feel so much better. The more I wrote, and the more my hand held the pens, the more at peace I began to feel. There is something utterly cathartic about the physical act of releasing your thoughts. 

As time went on and medications kicked in, I dropped the number of journals down and also decreased the fervid scribbling which filled every moment of my days.

Nowadays I keep a dream journal, a shadow work journal, and a regular journal. I don't write in them every day, but it is a regular occurrence to find me sitting outside with a cup of tea and my journal. It is a calming experience, and one which brings a great sense of inner peace and relief to my soul. The benefits of journaling are easily garnered, the very the act of connecting mind to pen and pen to paper brings a deep sense of harmony. A busy mind accepts the ime you need it to quiet down as long as it knows it has regular moments to get the crazy thoughts out.

Today, journaling is quite a fashion statement and if you are the creative type you can get some pretty fancy pages going. Writing for emotional health or inner peace however, is not about how pretty you make it rather, it is about telling your truth, and letting your soul have a voice. Your journal is a place you can write how you are feeling everyday and over time be able to track personal patterns and behaviours.

Writing honest accounts about how you feel and where your life is going can be a great way to solve problems and discover your soul's purpose. Looking back at months gone past is an invaluable way to track your progress through challenging times and see how far you have come. It does not matter how neat or messy the pages become, at times I can not even read my own writing and that is perfectly okay. Its not about having a show piece to brag about, rather an inner peace journal is about getting the emotional baggage out of your head, which keeps us in turmoil out.

Journaling is a way to tell someone (even if is just ourselves and the divine) our fears and secrets. It helps us feel heard in a world which is increasingly deaf to our pain and suffering. It is so much better to get festering thoughts out and onto paper where we can read them back to ourselves and steal the destructive power they have over our psyche. Picking up those pens was the best thing I ever did and I promise if you grab pen and paper and start writing it will be the best thing you ever did to find your own inner peace as well.

Do you want my Monthly blog to come to you? How about other news about where I am and what I am doing around cairns? Join the mailing list for my monthly Mystical Museletter, every month there is a special deal just for Subscribers. Yes,I want to be a Musette

Diamonds May Not Be a Girls Best Friend After All!

April is my birth month, diamonds are my birthstone. Growing up my mother always gave me diamonds for special birthdays. I always felt special with my little diamond chip rings and necklaces. As I became older and more aware of the world I started to find diamonds a little plain and overpriced. I also began developing my social and political consciousness, I began worrying about where the diamond was sourced. I absolutely abhor the thought of having someone’s blood and suffering (quite literally) on my hands. When it was time to choose an engagement ring my now husband and I both agreed diamonds were out. It may be a symbol of love, commitment and fidelity, but it was not the right symbol for us (I’ll tell you about my engagement ring another time).

These days I only wear diamonds of sentimental nature. My mother’s eternity ring and the diamond and sapphire pendant my father gave my mother when I was born. If you love diamonds however, and just can’t live without them, don’t despair, there are countries that produce beautiful diamonds without the torture, death and blood marring the beauty. I have seen Argyle diamonds from the Kimberly region right here in Australia which make me rethink my idea of diamonds being plain and overpriced. In fact, now I think about it I do own a lovely, ethically sourced, black diamond ring which my mother bought me. 

Why would it be so important to ensure our diamonds are ethically sourced? Energy of course! All crystals and stones have their own energy as well as energy from those who have handled them. you could cleanse your diamonds well, but I tend to think that much pain and suffering would leave an imprint. To me it is the same kind of unmovable negative energy as accumulates in stolen crystals. It is definitely not the kind of zing you want in a healing, magical, or meditation tool.

So, once you have your ethically sourced diamonds what can you look forward to?

A diamond can help clear and energise the heart, third eye and crown chakras. It brings us closer to our higher self and helps us understand our soul purpose in this lifetime as well as clarify our life lessons. Diamonds can help our intellect and ego connect with our higher consciousness, bringing all states of our being into alignment to work together towards one goal. By bringing all the different parts of our self together, (physical, emotional, spiritual), diamonds can help us manifest our dreams and goals, especially when worn on our person every day.

As I stated earlier diamonds are seen as symbols of love, commitment, and fidelity, however, they also symbolise: purity, wealth, manifestation, abundance, and transformation. Personally, I feel diamonds should not be used to symbolise wealth as to me they symbolise “wealth at any cost”, due to the controversy surrounding blood diamonds and the Cartels that trade in them.

Diamonds are a wonderful stone to use for transformation, and an awesome stone to carry during hard times. As we all learn very early in life, the beautiful diamond was once a dark and dusty piece of charcoal exposed to tremendous amounts of pressure. By reminding ourselves of how a diamond becomes such a beautiful precious stone, we can focus on learning and transforming ourselves through the hard times of our lives. We can remain graceful under pressure knowing that we will not only survive but come out the other side as something more beautiful and refined. 

Diamonds are great amplifiers and will exacerbate any emotional state, whether positive or negative. Some people believe it is better to take your diamonds off when entering a less then ideal emotional state, I believe however that if you cleanse your diamonds well and program them clearly they can help reinforce our positive moments even when we are going through the negative. Diamonds help us deal with emotional and mental anguish by bringing clarity of thought and enabling us to see and heal the trigger to such painful, destructive, and debilitating responses.

A diamond is a valuable tool for those of us undertaking shadow work, as it can show us the light at the end of the tunnel and help lead us out of the darkness with a greater sense of self. The transformative and clear-thinking aspect of the diamond makes it very useful for creative endeavours, using our imagination, and finding our courage. The perfect gift for writers, artists, musicians, or anyone who makes their living creatively.

Diamonds can also assist those living with glaucoma, blurry vision, allergies, and chronic conditions. It is also a good stone to help re-balance the metabolism, and aid in weight loss and the transformation of our body’s shape.

On a spiritual level diamonds help with psychic development by connecting us to higher planes and activating our prefrontal lobe, which is the seat of our paranormal abilities. It makes higher energies in the spiritual realms more accessible while at the same time filling holes and recharging our auric fields. It is a great stone for clairvoyants as it enhances inner visions and intuitive connections, especially when held against the third eye/forehead.

It is the every ready battery of the crystal world, it never needs recharging and boosts and recharges other stones placed near it. Over all Diamond is a pretty spectacular stone when we view it as more than just a gift of love or show of status. It has many uses and as long as we continue to find ethical sources it can be a great healing or magical tool within our crystal collections.

Do you want my Monthly blog to come to you? How about other news about where I am and what I am doing around cairns? Join the mailing list for my monthly Mystical Museletter, every month there is a special deal just for Subscribers. Yes, I want to be a Musette

Severing the Conection Between Yourself and a Friend Can Be as Painful as Any Romantic Breakup

Nothing is more heartbreaking than the end of a relationship. There is a grieving period, and a need for closure which may never come to pass. When this affinity is romantic in nature everyone is there to help you and give you their advice. Support is endless. But what about when a platonic relationship breaks up? Who do you turn to when the person you are separating from is the usual place you would find solidarity and support?

Breaking up with a friend can be life shattering. You still have a grieving period, you still may never have closure, but there is much more to a friendship bust up than that. You lose the person you went to for support, you are no longer on good terms with someone who knows many, if not all, your dirty little secrets. If it was a messy break up and you are out to hurt each other you both know all the buttons to press to get maximum reactions. If you've been friends a long time there will be mutual friends involved as well, and they won't want to take sides. Your other friends are telling you to get over it and move on and stop talking about it, but just like a romantic break up, you need to talk about it to process what happened, how it went wrong, and how you will move on with your life without the other person.

You go through all the same emotions, blaming the other person, being angry, being sad, feeling alone and finally accepting it is over. Yet to the outside world it isn't something of great importance. For the two people severing friendship though, it can be a catastrophic event. As someone who is currently going through the tremendously painful experience of ending a close and once sacred friendship, I thought I would share some of the wisdom I am garnishing from this tragic life event.

Some friendships come to us for a season, all friendships come to us for a reason!

It is much too easy to re-write the past through anger, bitterness or hurt. Making the other person out to be something bad and someone you are glad to be rid of. It is much harder to see the relationship as the blessing it was. the fact of the matter is what you had was real. The support and help you gave each other was real. If we really do look at a relationship as something with seasons then eventually what has been sown needs to be reaped. This is not a bad thing, by moving on we can actually plant new seeds and grow as a person and allow the other person to do the same.

Moving in different directions is not a good or bad thing, its just a thingwhich happens. Friendships are born from having things in common, they are sustained by emotional and spiritual needs. When this emotional and spiritual connection becomes unbalanced a few things in common is not enough to glue the friendship together. 

So how do we find out we have an unbalanced connection?

When balanced a relationship is give and take, one side may give more or take more but there is a general cyclic flow to the nature of emotional, physical and spiritual support. When one person stops giving it the friendship will wear away over time. Eventually the relationship becomes lopsided. You may think this is the fault of the person who is only taking, but it isn't.

In every tango there is two people. If you are willingly giving to someone who never returns the energy you are just as complicit in the unbalanced nature of the relationship. If you have fed someone over time, without demanding an equal exchange, the friendship is given an unspoken acceptance to continue this way. If you then suddenly stop giving, and want to take something back there is no room for this in the relationship and so the friendship must either weather a storm or end.

Some friendships can weather any storm, and in these instances the connection comes back with time or hard work. It may not be the same connection it once was, but it is still two souls who see each other as sacred. Other friendships can not weather the storm and the two souls pull apart. It can be messy, hard, scary or it may be acrimonious. The friendship may be only a barren season, or it may be forever, only the universe and her Fates can possibly know at the time. No matter if the break up it is mutual or messy, it is going to be painful. Let yourself process the loss and grieve, explain to your friends how you just need to talk about your feelings the same way you would if it was a romantic break up. Keep in mind how special this person once was in your life and let the kinship be remembered as the sacred experience it was. 

Move forward in your life by thanking the universe for the lessons and experiences you received throughout the time you shared as friends. Have the grace and integrity to let go of the hurt and anger without letting it paint a good thing with hate and spite. When you lash out at the other person you are hurting yourself more than you hurt them.

Most importantly though, forgive yourself for eventually moving on without the other person, it is the right thing for both of you, no matter how much it hurts at the time.

The Confession They All Hoped I'd Never Make

No one in my family will be happy with what I am about to write. Those who believe my story and have heard it whispered behind closed doors will wonder why, now, after 30 years I want to put it out there for the world. Others, who already tell their lies and gossip about me will believe this is just another prevarication made up for attention or to personally hurt them. To the former family, if you don't understand why I need to speak up and try and share my story with others, I'm sorry. Its something I need to get out, I need to talk about this as part of my mental health journey. Whispers and secrets make my story incomplete and if I ever want to help others I need to be open about the experiences I have lived. To the latter family members, I have nothing to say, you will continue to warp reality as you see fit, my truths won't slow down your tide of hatred.

For me childhood was a sad and hectic experience, my parents separated and while my father retained custody he was unable to take care of us. For a number of years we moved between staying with an aunt or our grandmother. I can not speak for my sister and brother′s feelings through these years, but for me they were lonely and esteem crushing. I spent my "home" time looking out for my siblings, I was respectively 5 and 6 years older than them and felt it was my job to show them love and affection. I tried to shield them from the harsh reality of living with out parents and feeling like a burden to others. School holidays were a fun time as we would go "out bush" with an aunt, uncle to stay in a gorgeous bush shack with them and their children.

We lived in hand me downs and school ports which were old and ratty. Told more than once how lucky we were that any family member wanted us and how we owed these people for caring for us. I cooked, cleaned and took care of my cousins in an attempt to feel useful and pull my weight. I worried about my siblings, almost obsessed with their well being. At school I was quiet, shy, and when I did open my mouth something weird would no doubt come out. I made very few friends, and was the easy target for name calling and exclusion. By the time I hit prepubescence victim was all but stamped across my forehead.

I may have been timid and scared but I was however, also an absolute master at hiding my feelings, my secret was to eat whenever I felt sad, mad, frightened, nervous. Because of the tendency to eat my feelings I was over weight, which gave another blow to my self esteem. My aunt often went to bingo with our nan or else retired to bed early. I was older than the other children and allowed to stay up later, my uncle worked late and would eat dinner after the other children were in bed. Everything started very innocently, my uncle would ask about my day, school, friends, I eagerly opened up pleased that someone seemed to care. He let me raid the pantry for chips and lollies, it was our secret, my little late night treat.

Eventually he asked about boyfriends, I didn't have any, he told me I was pretty without saying it was a shame about my weight, something no one ever did. The first time I remember feeling uneasy was when I hurt my knee at school. My uncle insisted on rubbing it to make it feel better, his hand massaged my knee for a few seconds before starting to move up my thigh. I muttered that wasn't my knee, my uncle told me the muscles were all connected. He massaged high up on my thigh but convinced me it was no where he shouldn't be touching.

His touch had made me uncomfortable, but like any well groomed, emotionally starved child I didn't want to upset the one person who was nice to me. I wasn't even sure if he had done anything really wrong. This seemed to be the moment everything changed, no not changed, escalated, I don't know if my uncle knew now I would keep quiet and got bolder or if he just couldn't resist the pretty but chubby emotionally wounded girl who was unconfortably wearing her first training bras. 

Suddenly I needed to flash my boobs to get my little late night treat, my uncle would follow me to the bathroom when I needed to go to the toilet, or need to come in and get something while I showered. I even once saw him in the backyard staring up at the window while I showered. Boob flashes turned into boob feels, I didn't even want the treats anymore but I took them and I ate them because what else could I do. If I told anyone would they believe me? It was probably my fault anyway right?

The bathroom door didn't lock, I was so proud when I worked out a way to open the linen cupboard to prevent the bathroom door from being opened. This lasted a couple of weeks till my aunt told me I couldn't keep locking the door that way as I would ruin the cupboard. I began to make sure I showered before he got home from work, and even tried going to bed early. I began to feel a little safer, thinking if I minimised the alone time with him all was good. Then one night I awoke to my uncle standing there watching me sleep in the top bunk, "shh go back to sleep" was all he said.

Now I wasn't even safe when I went to bed, in a room with his own children or my siblings in it. I would wake up many nights with him standing over me, sometimes just watching, sometimes he would run his fingers over my pubic mound, mostly over my panties, but sometimes inside. I was up late one night playing computer games, my aunt was home but I didn't realise she had gone to bed. My uncle came into the lounge room and approached the chair I was sitting in from behind. I knew from my peripheral vision something wasn't right but I was too scared to actually turn and look.

When he was standing beside me he told me to turn my head and look, I did as I was told and saw his erect penis, he wanted me to touch it, he forced my hand onto it then asked if I would put it in my mouth, I said no and got teary. I'm not sure what broke the spell for him, my tears or the fear of being caught but he quickly put his penis away apologising and begging me not to tell his wife. I was so scared I promised not to tell. This is the worst of what happened to me, I learnt to look out for myself. Sleep light, the sooner I woke up the sooner he would stop touching me and go back to his room at night time. Never putting my hand up for a room with no one else sleeping in even though I was the oldest. I even encouraged my youngest cousin to share a bed with me feeling safer when someone else was there with me.

Once while family was visiting I gathered up enough courage to tell a cousin a little older than me what was happening. We at the stereo, choosing music I think, we were alone in the room and I took the chance to open up. I'm not sure if I thought she would be able to help, but I didn't want to be alone in knowing this secret anymore. "XXXX shows me his penis, he asked me to put it in my mouth." Her response was to laugh and tell me it was no big deal. I felt betrayed, and this was when I realised I really was all alone in my nightmare.

In time Dad got himself together and we went back to live with him and his new girlfriend not long after I started high school. I was relieved to be living somewhere else, no longer needing to be vigilant when I went to the toilet or sleep under sheets even when it was too hot to be covered. I still didn't tell anyone what had happened to me, instead I started finding ways to skip family events and embraced being the weird fat girl with low self esteem, you know the one no one wanted to kiss.

I was unable to avoid a cousins birthday party, it was one of my uncle's daughters, in silent protest I turned up late, very late. My uncle dragged me out onto the front stairs and admonished me for having no family spirit. I stood there in fear stuttering answers as he told me how selfish and rotten I was, as soon as possible I ran away to wish my cousin a happy birthday. After that I attended family events, staying as physically far away from my uncle as I could.

I was nineteen and living out of home before I told another person, this time I told my mother, in a drunken midnight on new years eve phone call. I don't remember how the subject came up, but I do remember her asking if anyone had ever touched me inappropriately, so I told her. She told my father and a few days later (even though they had been divorced for years) the three of us sat down and talked about it. My father was furious and close to violence, I however did not want to upset my grandmother, so we decided to keep it quiet.

While the sexual abuse I suffered is not as bad as it could have been, it has still left behind a highly damaged person. It took years for me to view sex as something attached to love and affection. It took me years to learn I could say no to men. It took me years to trust being alone with a man. There were men who I thought were friends who took the first opportunity to get me in bed, proving once again that men were not to be trusted. I was hyper vigilant around those of the opposite sex, I still am, I don't feel safe around men I don't know and I am often uncomfortable around those I do.

I am scared to sleep at night, tossing and turning, waking at every noise, I suffer night terrors, severe anxiety and major depression along with emotional dysregulation, the first few symptoms are a culmination of a tough childhood and hectic life. The last one appears in those of us who have not been shown emotional security and healthy ways to express ourselves as children. My uncle isn't the only hardship my childhood or early adult life saw, but he is one of the big ticket items. What he did is unacceptable, abhorrent and wrong. He has left me with scars on my soul which I may never be able to completely heal. 

My grandmother can no longer comprehend the world around her so I know my childhood confession can not upset her. My father has passed but I am sure he would stand behind me as I finally feel brave enough to tell my story. I don't know if anyone took the time when I was growing up to find out why I acted out, I don't know if other adults in my family knew what was happening (though I truly hope not), and I really don't know how he lives with himself. Did he ever see me as a person, a child? Did he care about the damage he was causing? Will everyone run to his (unnamed) aide? (I expect they will).

Those are all good questions right? I deserve the answers right? You know which question I really want answered though, the one that keeps me awake at night? Well its pretty simple. What exactly made me less worthy of a happy and safe childhood in his eyes?

Why Making an at Home Roster Is the Best Thing I Ever Did for My Mental Health?

Wow, it has been over two months since I last posted anything here, I'm so sorry for the huge delay. I've been busy doing so much, I always seem to run out of energy before getting around to blogging. That's the problem with mental health, as we feel better we keep on trying to do more and more, eventually something has to give. If you are interested in where my time has gone, you can find out here, here, or here

Anyone following my story would already know, its been a hard struggle for me to get back on my feet after a massive, life-as-I-knew-it, destroying episode back in April and May 2017. Part of the struggle was coming to terms with those things triggering my anxiety and causing depressive episodes. A traditional work life is one of the major causes of my panic attacks and heightened anxiety. The thought of putting on a uniform is enough to cause me real discomfort, trying to put one on actually makes me begin hyperventilating.

So I needed to let go of the well paying job I had with a company who cared more about money and metrics than people. I've also moved away from trying to find a job which would see me leaving the house multiple times a week, I am just not able to do it. Instead I found ways to make money while at home, and with the assistance of my amazing mother in law and gorgeous, ever supportive husband I am slowly starting to see an income with what I am doing.

It's hard work though, working from home is not all fun and games and no where near as easy as getting up and going out to work. In a traditional job, you take off your uniform and sit down to relax at the end of a hard day. Working from home however, is almost never ending, its exciting to be building something, but every day seems to involve working towards a sustainable income.

My tendency is to go and go until I can't and then sleep and sleep because (like so many of us with chronic or mental illnesses) I forgot to count my spoons. It is never my work that suffers though, rather I stop writing my blog, don't watch TV with my husband, take the dog on shorter walks or no longer bake for pleasure. I make my occupation (whether self or company employed) all consuming and I only come up for air when I am drowning.

Something had to give, my husband, and our dog was suffering, I was suffering, though as a Taurean I was far to stubborn to see it until it was too late. As my husband pointed out, working myself into the ground is how I ended up missing all of the warning signs of an impeding, catastrophic, breakdown. I needed to do something to slow my pathological overworking persona down. The conclusion we came to was so simple, I have no idea why it wasn't obvious before. I needed a Roster.

Years of working hard, has left my brain (and yours too I bet) wired to follow a schedule. Without a roster, my brain is in free fall, asking itself "are we working or are we playing?" My anxiety is in over drive, "there are deadlines to be met and things to do and we have to do all the things now, now, NOW!" Then along would come depression, "I'm tired, this is too much to think about lets take a three hour nap". The home roster is the perfect way to calm my inner worry and avoid giving in to the nap.

It isn't as tight as a work roster would be, I do allow myself some flexibility, If there really is a deadline, I will work longer, I take the time off another day however, to make sure I am not overdoing the spoon consumption. So what does my roster look like?

7am get up take morning tablets, wash dishes, walk the dog

8am prepare and eat breakfast, do daily hygiene regimine

9am-12pm work (I choose between my photography, spiritual work, or writing)

12pm-1pm prepare and eat lunch, cuddle the pets

1pm-4pm work (possibly choosing to do something different)

4pm-5pm me time

5pm-7:30pm prepare dinner

7:30-10pm eat dinner and have Husband time

10pm-11pm wind down reading

11pm lights out

On the days I don't work, which is every second weekend, every second Tuesday and every Friday, I let myself sleep in and watch Netflix. It's not a perfect fix, I still break the rules, but I'm learning to work with a home schedule and it seems to be helping. After all, I've found the time and energy to write my personal blog. What do you think of a home roster, is it something which could help you?