Pushing through the crap.

I remember being about 5. We were up in Queensland at Wet and Wild and Whatever Waterpark. I spent what seemed like a year in my 5 year old brain, lining up to go on the biggest waterside ever built in the entire world. As I got closer and closer to the top, by thoughts turned from one of absolute jubilation to mild apprehension before finishing with complete and frozen fear.

There were dozens of people behind me. I could not turn back, I got to the top of the queue and started to cry. Big salty tears running down my zincy nose.

“COME ON LOVE. MOVE” barked the asshole attendant.

And down I flew. There was no other option. 

It was fantastic.

9 years ago, I felt a labour pain. And then another. I had the same feeling as I had when I was 5. A fear of impending doom.

“I have changed my mind.” I told Mr Woog “I don’t want to have a baby.” But I could not turn back. There was no escape but thankfully there was no gorm yelling at me “COME ON LOVE, MOVE!” Instead I lay terrified. FUCKING TERRIFIED. I wanted to get up and walk out of that hospital, go home via the DVD shop and pretend that none of this was happening. But it didn’t. I stayed.

It was fantastic.

Today, I sat in a room about to go and present at the big-time mUmbrella Conference. I am a nervous public speaker. I mean I am nervous before I start and one I do start, I could go all day like the Ever-ready Bunny. 

I made the rookie mistake of listening to a phone message. You see I am expecting someone to come and fix the dishwasher at home. I sat there, listening to a message on my phone and growing numb with rage. It was more bad, bitchy news stemming from a group of grown up women on a closed Facebook page of all things. (I now know that these things exist – I had no idea previously)

I burst into some fairly substantial tears, much to the absolute delight of the two men I was seated with. Now when you burst into extreme tears in a group, make sure that there are a few chicks around. They are completely helpful with tissues and shit. (Thank you Alex and the KFC lady.)

I wanted to run. I needed to get out of there. How the fuck was I suppose to go and face dozens and dozens of media professionals in a semi-tragic state.

And then I remembered. Being 5. And being 30. And pushing through all the crap to get to the good stuff. I am on that cusp now. Dear god let it end soon.

Because no faceless internetty bitches are going to bring me down.

PS The Panel went well, but I did complain to the moderator that I did not get enough mike time. I might go to karaoke this evening to get my fix.