Bullet Journals

Although I christened this year, the year of productivity- this turn around really started in October 2017. One afternoon when it was pouring down with rain, I was embarking on a YouTube marathon- clicking video after video in an effort to find a productivity solution that would help me achieve my goals and eventually I stumbled across a bullet journal. Instantly I was hooked.

The pages when hand-drawn looked incredibly gorgeous and for someone who is obsessed with calligraphy and the written word, I saw little passions sparking up which I had long forgotten. So the next morning I got up and went on a mission to find the perfect journal- no need to twist this stationary addicts arm. My to my partner’s dismay, I dragged him for a 1-hour session at Typo, even I have to acknowledge I cannot be left unattended in the store, or we will end up homeless.Image result for shut up and take my money Everything I had read up on, stated that I needed a book with grids (almost like graph paper) or plain drawing pages (like a display book)- the external covers where just not cutesy enough and did not have any puns- so I settled for a ring bound, lined booklet. I chose the ring binder booklet because I am the sticky note queen and I need enough room to stick bits and pieces into the booklet and still be able to close it comfortable. bullet hournalAlso when I draw I have a bad habit of folding my book in half so get a ring binder eliminated bending the spine of the book- which I hate doing.

I excitedly rushed home pulled my journal out at a blank desk, along with all the stationary I could find (desk was no longer blank, in fact, there was no room to write…). I then spent fifteen minutes clearing a space so I could actually write. HAHA! So I stared at the page waiting for inspiration on how to start the journal. I was waiting… and waiting…. still waiting. This inspiration was little hard to find and so far had eluded me. Back to the research, I went.

Screen Shot 2018-01-26 at 10.15.39 amAll the avid Bullet Journals bloggers and guides that I came across warned, the best place to start was with an index or a key. In order to get the most out of the Bullet Journal you literally need to define your bullets and how you will manage the data, you’re putting down. The index not only defines the journal it also restricts it and makes a set of rules for your tasks to ensure you manage your time wisely and complete all the tasks you’re adding in-to the diary. So after learning how integral the key was, I began my journal by making one. After three failed attempts scraping all the designs I didn’t like and forcing my drawing muscles keywhich I had not used in a few years to work, I settled on this design. Even now I am still not sure if I like it, but it is functional and I cannot argue with that.

As the weeks went on I began to add more an more pages to the journal, the ones I kept, were my “good drafts”, there were many failed attempts which ended up in the can, on my journaling journey. I found that the ancillary pages were distracting- I don’t need the journal to track my weight, tell me what movies I have watched or what books I read. I needed the journal to track and manage my tasks – because my job is a constantly evolving beast of days that bleed into each other and many tasks which are half done and incomplete waiting for information, the journal was rapidly filling, but it just took up way to much time. I found myself rewriting the same information over and over as I moved tasks forward, to the point where I very nearly drove myself insane. As much as I loved the concept and boy oh boy I did. I had to let the Bullet Journal go, it didn’t work for me.

The Bullet Journal did teach me a few home truths that I had perhaps been ignoring;

  • My job is constantly evolving, and it is very hard to ever get to a point where every task is complete- whilst I might chip away at it, a little bit each day, it is hardly ever fully complete.
  • I do not drink enough water- that daily water chart flabbergasted me. I wasn’t drinking water at all- and was pretty much living just on caffeine. This was a slightly unanticipated discovery- it is funny the things we can ignore.
  • As much as I love calligraphy, I haven’t written things down in longhand since I left school ten years ago- I don’t have the patience to do it now. I have too much information to get on the page to be sitting down and writing it all in. I would never get any work done.
  • I failed last years New Years Resolution of read more books- I did not get through more than one whole book last year- although I started many.
  • I am the Jack of all Trades- I start many projects, I just don’t finish them.
  • I work way too much… and when I am done working for the day, I make a few extra jobs for myself, just in case. I need to STOP TRYING TO REINVENT THE WHEEL, and just get on with it. Knowing that I needed this book as a productivity tool, made me realise that I was just wasting too much time trying to make it work. I have learned if something is the right fit, it shouldn’t feel hard or like a chore.

After three months, I had to let the Bullet Journal go, I had to say goodbye- as much as I enjoyed writing and stretching those muscles, I HATED this journal. I want the Bullet Journal to really make my job easier to be the beacon of organisation in the chaos of unfinished tasks and really, it became a hindrance- much like food and sex, sounds like a great idea in theory, but it is just so messy…

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Maybe I will finally read the search…

I had just bought a Mac and picked it up a few days before, took it my parents house and we were sitting around the table looking at the screen. Mum opened up safari, she wanted to check “how fast google was”, I mean it must be different on a Mac to her iPad, right?

She started to type “Logopenic Primary Progressive Aphasia” and bookmarked the google search to my favourites bar, she turned the screen back to me and said, “that’s what dad has.” Gently she said the words, but they still hit me like a steam train right in the gut – within seconds I had lost that gooey “I just bought something new” glow and came crashing back to that sticky old mucky feeling of “F**k, what hell do we do now”.

Dad had been unwell for a little while and at first, we didn’t know. It started off kind of endearing, he would forget little things here and there. He’d start a sentence and never finish it. He’d put the kettle on and flick the lid up (cause my sister hated the whistle it made) and then completely forget he had put it on at all, until one of us found the kettle with the water almost completely gone still on the stove with that weird smell metal makes when it is too hot. He often forgot what day of the week it was, and on the weekend would get up super early for work and be heading to the garage before we caught him and said “Hey dad, it’s Saturday remember?!”

We had only really begun to take notice of these moments when dad was probably three years into his decline, see early on it kind of seems normal – it creeps in slowly like a trickle, you sort of don’t notice it. But three years down the track…. things were getting worse and we were really starting to see the strain on dad. He was starting to get frustrated a lot, like he was trying to tell us something but couldn’t find the right words. My mother, my sister and I, had many thoughts on what a possible diagnosis could be, which we all tried to explore, over and over we began to search, we couldn’t understand it. Retrospectively, we all came to the same conclusion around the same time, not that we ever discussed it, in fact, looking back, I think my mum sort of got there first, but I think we could all see the writing on the wall. Within months, it was confirmed by dad’s Neurologist.

Logopenic Primary Progressive Aphasia is a variant of Alzheimer’s disease- at least that’s what the first result on mum’s google search had told me. Mum had saved the search so that I could go back in my own time and start to learn a little bit more about it… it has been 18 months since she saved that search and I still have not gone and read any more about this diagnosis that is slowly stealing my father from me. I don’t want to know what is going to happen in six months time, I’m trying hard to focus on and in the moment, each and everyone I can steal before he goes. I don’t want to know at what point I will lose him because I don’t think I could face knowing. There are somethings we are just better not knowing.

What makes dad’s diagnosis so hard, is that he has Early on-set Alzheimers as well, which means its aggressive and fast. Dad was only 57 when he was first diagnosed and at the age of 59 now, only a few months away from 60, I can honestly say, when he thought about retirement, this was never what he pictured. Dad always talked about how he would whisk mum off to Europe, and sadly that now can’t happen. Our family feels so young, I feel so young, at 26 it is strange to think about making decisions which are going to impact the rest of someone’s life.

I listen to my friends and people my age, talk about their weekends and how they have had a fight with their parents because they didn’t get to wear what they wanted when they left the house, or they came home too late, or they fought about where your life is going, or what I am going to do next, or how should I go back to university and finish off the course I have been deferring for two years…. etc…. it all seems so futile… and here I am… lost… wondering if when I go over to mum and dads for a cup of coffee, will dad remember my name? Will he recognise me? Will he be able to get up and walk today?

Almost every day, I turn my Mac on and I open Safari and those words stare at me, “Logopenic Primary Progressive Aphasia”, maybe tomorrow I will finally read the articles that come up on the screen. Maybe, I will start with just one.

 

If anyone could make me stay…

Sheryl Crow sang it well when she proclaimed ”The first cut is the deepest”- right now the words are banging away in my mind like a jackhammer. The thought is constant and I just cannot ignore it.

We were fourteen, sitting in math class and passing notes backward and forwards. You were the bad boy that was no good for me, I was the sweet innocent little girl. You were always in trouble, and I was always the one to set you straight- well for about thirty seconds here and there. As inexperienced and innocent as I was, our notes were anything but. You flirted with me incessantly whilst I blushed and attempted to flirt back. I say attempted because I really had no idea what I was doing, in fact, I attribute the flirtatious portion of my character to what you taught me back then. I often think back to our year nine maths class, and how I felt in that moment. You had a way of igniting this spark in me, a way of making me feel special, of making me feel like no one else mattered and to be honest, I have not yet encountered that feeling again.

My favourite memory of you is from when we were fifteen. A mutual friend of ours was walking me home. As much as I enjoyed my time with him, he was doing my head in. I’m assuming he told you where we were, because up you pulled in your big black truck. It was absolutely pouring done with rain in the middle of winter, yet somehow it had been around 26 degrees that morning. After growing up in Melbourne I should be more than prepared for any weather, any local will preach to you, “dress in layers” and “be prepared for all four seasons in a day”- yet there I stood, in my summer school dress freezing my little backside off. You noticed me shivering and ran back to your truck to get me the biggest puffiest black jacket I had ever seen and demand I put it on. I obeyed. You put your arms around me and whispered something about ”body heat” in my ear. I didn’t hear what you said, as all the blood in my body went rushing through my head, you always did make me feel giddy. I am pretty sure you said something naughty tough, you always did. You were standing behind me motioning to our mutual friend, I still don’t know what you said or insinuated, but he left… on foot. You must have had to make it up to him later, he never walked anywhere. I stood there, kind of surprised, I had been trying to get rid of him for like 45 minutes and you managed ot do it with just a head nod. Good on you! We stood there for a while until my hair was so wet I was wringing it dry just to stop the water from running into my eyes so I could look back at you.

”Get in my car” you demanded. I defiantly refused, there was no way I was getting in that truck. My parents had relatively few rules, one of them being, I was under no circumstances allowed to get in cars with boys unless daddy approved first. Whilst I had been in your car before, knowing my like we pull into the drive and daddy would be home and I would never hear the end of it. I stood there petulantly, you knew you were never going to win. ”Fine, then I will walk you home and make sure you don’t freeze to death”. I gave you an annoyed, I am woman, hear me roar look, but I slowly turned towards home, you slipped your arms around my shoulders and walked with me. Thunder started, I froze. A few doors down from my house is a little park, we ran up the steep hill and sat on the bench next to the leaning eucalyptus tree (looking retrospectively, this probably wasn’t the smartest idea we ever had- I mean hiding under a tree, filled with eucalyptus oil, which is already leaning, in the middle of a thunderstorm….). I have always hated thunder, and you were trying to calm me down, in amongst my frantic panic you kept trying to settle me, nothing was working. You looked me in eyes and said “bloody hell you cute”, next thing I know we were kissing. Softly and gently…. still in the pouring rain. You caressed the side of my face, I melted, but at least I wasn’t noticing the thunder and I wasn’t hyperventilating anymore- well at least not from frenzied panic anyway. The thunder subsided and you walked me home. I reluctantly handed you, your jacket and you left…

You never called, and I didn’t know how to reach out because it was always you who made the first move. I waited, a year passed, but you were gone. You had disappeared. I never heard from you. We both moved on, but I will always that day and running through the rain, the puffy jacket, and your big black truck. That was my first heartbreak. My first heart-ache. The first cut, that was so deep. You probably had no idea that I even cared the way I did. I have never been good at expressing my feelings, especially to you.

We lost contact for several years after that, but that memory, that moment gave me hope for what the future should like, for what love should look like and for how someone who cares for me should make me feel. You were the first person in my life to make me feel my worth and it was the most beautiful gift you could have given me.

Timing for us has always been horrid. I mean it couldn’t be worse. We talk now and again, then something happens and we lose touch, a few years go by and we don’t talk. We recently got back in touch again, but it has been nearly two years… I knew in that time that you would move overseas, you had warned me, I couldn’t face it, didn’t want to face it…

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of you…

I would be lying if I said, I didn’t watch the sale of your house with a hawk eye because I knew when it sold you’d be gone…

I would be lying if I said, I didn’t miss knowing you were just a short drive away and I could bump into you anywhere…

”…. I gotta admit, I really wish you had contacted me sooner to be honest.

….. But we have a lot of history, if anyone could make me stay it woulc have been you ❤ ” -Mr Fantastic

I read those words and my heart just broke, I was fifteen again, sitting in that park bench wishing you were there. Wishing I had the courage to say something all the times I could have. I told you, I only have one regret in life- That I never begged you to stay…

Whilst you said that coming back one day was an option, I would never want you too. I know how hard leaving was, I know what you went through. I could never demand that you start again, I could never ask you too- for what just a maybe? It’s not fair and it will never be fair. Our time has passed. I know that even if I don’t completely want to admit it – but I love talking to you and I will always be here to cheer you on. I will always be the biggest fan of your life (I know, you know, exactly what song that is from…). I will always be proud of your accomplishment and I promise to be the greatest friend you will ever have.

I didn’t think it was possible for me to ever feel that loss again, that hurt. It’s amazing that after fifteen years, I still feel that pang and I wish you were near so I could sink into your arms and sook.

I missed you then, I miss you still, somehow I know I always will.

You left a footprint.

You messaged me today, out of the blue. It’s been years. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. I fell off my chair and attempted to pick my jaw up off the floor. No! I wasn’t going crazy there was your message surrounded in a little blue cloud, “hey” it read.

I smile danced across my face, so large, you could have seen it from space. Could this mean you were back in my life? Could this mean we will talk like we used to?

Growing up we had a turbulent relationship, so much that was unspoken, so much that was unsaid for nearly ten years. I suffered in silence with feelings I was too scared to declare as I knew it would ruin our friendship. You took advantage of those feelings, too afraid to acknowledge your own in case I ruined your popularity. You used me as a stepping stone to reach that next rung on the ladder and I was your will victim. Every step along the way, I knew what was happening, I didn’t care I was worth nothing and those rare moments of your time, were my whole reason for breathing.

Whilst we never acted on our obvious romantic connection, we were always friends. You were always there to hold me when I cried (even when you caused the tears) and I was always there to kick you in the arse when you felt sorry for yourself and stuck in a rut.

Ten years later, life has weathered us both and we have changed, completely different to who we once were. However, the second your name popped up on my screen I realised, I will never be able to erase the footprint you left in my heart. It’s there, it’s real and I will never be able to ignore you.

We sat and spoke for hours, and you made my day. You solidified everything I had been working towards and trying to accomplish. I saw this look on your face… pride… and in that moment I felt a sense of accomplishment I had never reached before. The mere thought that I had made you proud was all I needed, even if the words never come out of your mouth, it won’t matter- I saw it in your eyes.

As you say on my couch and caught me up on the last five years, I felt saddened that life had not been so kind. I never wanted adversity for you. I would still do anything to put a smile on your face in spite of all our history and the mistakes we both made, you will always be my best friend. You will always be my karate kid.

“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart” – Eleanor Roosevelt

You left, and the smile was still there, dancing across my face. Whilst I know we will never have a future, we have too much history for me to ever let a future happen- I cannot help wonder what if….

What if we never fought? What if we had actually kissed that day in the rain(we came do close)? What if we acknowledged our feelings? What if you for once in your life, stopped caring what others think? What if I let the past go?

Then it hit me- those experiences we shared were so essential to the core of my decision making. That footprint you left on my heart shaped me for who I am and who I have become and I would never wish our history away because it made me.

I love you, I have always loved you, I will always love you- but I am not in love with you. I simple cannot change that you are the friend that makes me smile in a way no one else can, and to be honest, I don’t think I want to.

The Great Purge.

With the year of productivity chasing me like a lion chasing a gazelle through the Serengeti I began to feel a pressure on my chest. 

Not all at once, not all of a sudden… but instead a slow and steady crawl that began to consume everything to the point where I couldn’t breathe anymore. It felt like this pressure had been building for the past five years. 

 It has taken a couple of months to come to the forefront of my mind, but the more this pressure grew, the more disarray I felt. It was easy for those who knew me well to see I was walking around with a cloud above me. The easiest way for me to operate when I am feeling low is to numb myself to the emotions which can so easily engulf me. The problem is I am far to good at shutting off the emotion, putting it away in a box and dealing with it on a rainy day. It had been a fair while, years even and that rainy day had finally come. I remember laying in bed and trying to picture my life as it is now and where it would end up if stayed on the current track… where it would be in one, two and five years time… utter panic just set in. I was frantic, scared and I felt so alone. I was afraid of making changes, change is hard- but it can also be very beautiful if you embrace it. Being a chronic over-thinker at the best of times, when I started to critically assess the situation I was in- it became more and more apparent just how unhappy I was. 

I remember my mum and I watching a movie several times, in fact, we watched it over and over- there is this fantastic line in the movie. 

 

“A life lived in fear, is a life half lived” – Strictly Ballroom

 

I reassessed and realised that my work had become my whole purpose, my whole reason for being- it should never be that way. I should love what I do and be passionate about my career, however, it shouldn’t be my everything. Five solid years work toward achieving my goals and career aspirations, whilst making me successful, we’re actually starting to hurt me. I was tired, burnt out and I needed a break. Not because I didn’t love my job, but because I needed to recharge my batteries and find new reasons for enjoying myself within the work I had once been so bubbly about. 

 

My partner and I, we were resenting each other, despite living together for five years we were almost living different lives. Don’t get me wrong, I am all about my independence, but it got to the point where I actually hated the time we spent together. It became quite clear that we were unable to communicate, in fact, it was impossible to communicate, we hardly ever fought because we hardly ever spoke about anything that truly mattered to us as a couple. Essentially we were simply two friends living in the same space. I am not one for conflict, but some of the most beautiful moments come in finding resolution- and the only way you can reach these resolutions is through communication. I realised that whilst being in a committed relationship, I felt very alone. The person I was supposed to be spending the rest of my life with, was the person I least wanted to speak to because I felt like he did not understand me and didn’t want to take the time to get to know me or make me happy (whilst that’s probably not accurate on his part, it is simply what I felt at the time).

I always understood that relationships were about compromise and in order to keep our relationship afloat, whenever a disagreement arose I was always the first to say I was wrong, it was easier that way. It was easier to keep the peace. However, when you are always the party that has to compromise, exhaustion sets in and you become tired and left feeling unwanted, unappreciated and not at all desirable. As much as a partnership is about compromise, love should be unencumbered and empowering… it wasn’t for me if anything, it was breaking me down as a person. By staying, I had completely lost all sense of who I was as a person. 

 

The more I thought of that movie, the more I thought of that quote and whilst not particularly profound, it meant something to me. It meant I needed a change, I wanted a change- I wanted more from life. When all of this came flooding to the forefront of my mind, I knew I had to make a change. I made one of the hardest, yet most liberating decisions I have ever made and I left my partner of five years. I decided that I would much rather salvage what was left of a dying 15-year friendship, then continue on in an unhappy cohabitation. Sadly we could not maintain our friendship, but sometimes it’s better to live vicariously through your memories than pursue a path that will only bring you sadness. Whilst I miss who we were together when we started dating, those people were well and truly gone. We had grown apart and needed different things from life. 

 

I slowed down at work- no more overtime, no more long nights. If it doesn’t happen in a day, it simply doesn’t get done. Not because I don’t love my job, but because I need balance. Soon I will be taking a break, not a long one- just a week- but for this workaholic, it will be a week of rest and relaxing to recharge my batteries and remember that sometimes, it’s okay to put yourself first. It’s not selfish, it’s good for the soul. 

 

By pushing forward in an attempt to be more productive, it brought about the great purge and the need to completely turn my life around. It sounds silly and cliché, but by taking the time to try and find a way to accomplish everything quicker, I started to wonder what the great rush was. Why did I need to get faster? What was fueling the desire to cram so much more into my day? Looking back now, the answer is simple- the more I squish into a day, the less room I have to feel. The less room I have to feel and reflect, the less time I feel hurt. 

Now my mission is to get what I want and define the things I need from people and things around me- and this time, for the first time, I will be selfish. 

So far, I have ascertained what I want below- I am hoping this list will continue to be an evolving beast, whilst I find out exactly what I need and want from life;

I want balance. I want clarity. I want happiness. I want romance. I want someone who will take the time to sweep me off my feet, not for what they can get out of me, but simply because they want to put a smile on my face. I want to find a relentless, undying friendship- that stands the stress of time. I want friends who force me to put myself first and hold me accountable to myself, until I am more capable of doing it for myself. 

I don’t want to be somebody’s side dish, I want to be the main course.

I want to feel young at heart. I want fun. I want laughter….

… for the first time in three years, I want to not feel completely alone…

 I want… more…. from life, from everything…

…. and you know what, I am worth it. 

Break Ups are Hard

I walked into the kitchen, in a daze. There you were staring at me from across the room. I went to speak, but no sound came out. There was no point saying it again. we had been going round in circles for days.

I’m sorry, I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter, that it doesn’t hurt. You don’t support me. When I need you, you just make everything harder. It Screen Shot 2018-02-04 at 9.20.18 pmshouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t have to fight you. You should be making things easier for me, but you’re just so much work. We could have done so much together…

Goodbye, Bullet Journal. 

A few weeks ago, I broke up with the Bullet Journal. It was a hard decision to make, I really needed the Bullet Journal, to work, but the extra work it created was so not worth it. It’s clucky, arduous and limiting. I need something that can work as fast as I do- handwriting out all the data I need for one simple task was just too much. The bullets don’t take you into the future the way you imagine they would, they hold you back, every time you rewrite a task, it makes you feel so unaccomplished. I haven’t had that feeling for a long time- I am not a fan…

Knowing that I need something more automated as a full-time productivity solution has brought me to investigating to-do list apps. This week I am trying out To-Do-ist to see if this can improve my productivity, which last week flew out the window. I do have to note that between the Bullet Journal and the to-do list, I went about a week without anything to rely on for organisation. Not having a fully functioning to do list made my life hell, I was floundering and it is easy to see where the headaches and migraines come from. I cannot handle chaos and disorganisation at work.

Moving into exploring productivity enhancements, I want to know, what works for you? What’s your favourite method for improving efficiency?

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The Year of Productivity

2018 – come at me!! This year I have hit the ground running, I am planning and on top of everything so far. I have my entire year mapped out in front of me and I want to make the most of each moment. I felt last year, that I spent a lot of time idol and unproductive, that is not what I want moving forward. I spent so much time overthinking, out of survival I had to shut my brain off and operate in this kind of numbed and shut off state. That is not me, I am capable of so much more, I was coping out, giving up…giving in to 2017. I don’t want to look back and feel like I wasted time. Looking back on last year I spent a lot of time whinging about how hard it was and I don’t feel like I accomplished enough. This year, I am turning all of that around.

When I say I have my year mapped out in front of me, I am being literal, in every sense of the word. This is a picture of my current kitchen wall- I wake up every morning to my first cup of tea and this is what I see…

The Year of Productivity
kitchen wall calendar

My theory this year is not to call it a resolution. Resolution seems to have this little unwritten curse, like a promise that we know we won’t keep. This year it’s a change, a habit that I am keeping. My plan is to keep you updated on the tips and tricks I use along the way to make life a little bit easier, in hopes that you can hit the ground running too.

What are your new year plans? or dare I say, resolutions? I’d love to hear what you have planned. What is your year all about?

 

 

“I lost him”

It was around 2:30pm when you called. I had just reheated my lunch. The phone rang and your smiling face popped up on my screen.

I answered straight away, excited to hear your voice we only talk once or twice a fortnight so it’s always special when you call- your like a little ray of sunshine, always so happy and bright. As I answered my heart dropped. Hearing the sobs and gulps for air through your tears I knew exactly what had happened. “I just wanted to let you know, I just lost my dad” you cried. I went completely silent. Stunned I didn’t know what to say. “Did you hear me Bella” you asked through tear eyes. I stuttered. “Yes, yes, sorry, I just didn’t know what to say”.

We talked for a while and immediately I found myself saying all the clichés that I hate. “Everything will be okay.” “He loves you very much.” “It’s great that you got to go see him and spend time with him.” “Of course, you will miss him.” “He his not alone, there are so many people waiting for him on the other side.”

The finally those words flew out my mouth, “He had been sick for a while, it’s okay, he is at peace now”… I hated myself for saying it, how the hell is that supposed to be any comfort?? It sounded so holo to me.

Despite the fact that you are thirty years my senior we had found common ground when our fathers fell ill at the same time. Those fortnightly chats carried us through, we lent on each other as we travelled through this turbulent time. Your being the bubbelly bright spark that you are, helped me more than you know. Now here you are, needing me to comfort you and all that is spewing out of my mouth are a bunch of words that seem little comfort to me.

Whilst I really don’t know what to say or do, I’m here and I will have a handbag full of chocolate when your ready.