To Care is Caring


For those of you who don’t know. I quit my job as a Manger In Training (MIT) in mid December. Things happened in my life last year that, rather then them letting me slip back into a deep hole of depression, I took the bull by the horns and used my experiences for the better.

I became a Community Care Worker (CCW). I went down to part time, I lost wages but I gained me.

My role is predominantly with the elderly who have dementia or are restricted in their daily lives and require someone to come in and help them out. My role ranges from a social chat (yes I get paid to talk), making breakfast/lunch/dinner or even a whole selection of food for a week, assisting in showers, cleaning houses, taking or going shopping for clients and generally being there for them from 30 minutes all the way through to 8 hours of relief.

This next paragraph may offend, shock or bring to light about me to people so carry on reading if you dare. I used to be quite a judgemental person. Id look at people and wonder why they hadn’t “aspired” to be more in their lives. Why they weren’t in an office, or a manager of some sort. I now know that is all such bullshit.

I have a degree, I was training to become a manager for one of the biggest jewellery companies around and yet no qualification or job experience can make you a carer. You can teach empathy, you can learn respect, you can be told what is right and wrong, you can be taught understanding, but if you can’t use it properly its wasted. These are only a handful of skills carers need. You need to be open minded and respectful to the fact you are in someone else’s home, that their dignity needs to be persevered as if you were dealing with the queen, that what they feel is normal to do may be completely alien to you but you do it the way they want because, lets face it, you’re being paid to help them out for the short amount of time you are with them.

Which brings me on to my last point. I am a carer for 10 days out of a fortnight. I may see 30 clients a week and regardless of the time I spend with them I treasure every appointment. There are carers, family members, who are full time carers for these beautiful people and I take my hat off to them. It would be such a hard job doing it 24 7. I get paid to make people smile and enjoy their time with me. They don’t. They truly are angels.

I like this person I have become, no scrap that, I love the person this job has allowed me to finally be.

28 day challenge

Sat here drinking my Rooibos caffeine free raspberry tea and I’m wondering what the hell I have gotten myself into. I thought it would probably be a great opportunity to document the turmoil, hurdles and hopefully the satisfaction of embarking on and then completing a 28 day fitness and detox challenge through my amazing gym.

I joined Body Works Fitness in around August/September 2015. Id just had surgery and decided that there was no better time to join a boot camp gym and shift the masses of weight that I had gained over the past years. I embarked on an 8 week challenge to finish 2015 and although 8 weeks was just far too long, I did manage to loose 9.1kgs and 34cm!

Needless to say I jumped at the opportunity to join another challenge run by Ben and his wife and my aim this time is to get under 70kg.

My weigh in this morning was yuck, I have not seen 5:40am for a little under two weeks and I did not want to get out of bed! Anyways, I managed to drag my arse to the gym and had my weigh in a measurements done. They were better then expected and I have started this challenge only adding 1.3kg to my final weigh in last year. So I start on January 4 2016 (wearing clothes and runners) at 78.2kg (in undies and a bra at 77.4kg) bring on 4 weeks of no alcohol, no bad carbs and massive cm and kg loss!

I food prepped yesterday so the first few days of green, green and more green should hopefully be easier the anticipated. B is asleep at the minute but once he is awake I will make my green smoothie for the morning!


Weight Loss Costs Money

So although I just posted about my 28 day challenge, we have currently been doing it for 11 days. I have found this challenge a little difficult compared with the last one, but only because I had healthy habits going into this one and struggled going all the way back to basics. However, I am managing, minus one or two hiccups and this morning on a cold and wet Friday I decided to go through the one part of my wardrobe that has not seen the light of day for at least 2 years – the trousers.

That’s right folks, I put on that much weight that I could not fit my tree trunk thighs into any of my jeans or casual trousers. I have lived in maxis, cotton stretchy skirts and shorts for 2 years. WTF?

Anyways, I bit the bullet and tried on a pair of brown trousers I last wore when my mum was in Australia the time before in 2013. THEY FIT – granted just – BUT THEY DID UP! I jumped around my bedroom for joy. Then it hit me……what about the other 90 million pairs I have been storing for “when I loose the weight”………

Needless to say, 20 minutes later I stood in the doorway of my bedroom looking at the bomb that had just gone off and contemplated how I was going to fit them all back into the small space they came from.

Then I had choice! Rather then sighing and putting on the same old skirt or trackie pants I had to choice. Which trousers will I wear today on the gloomy wet summers day?

After picking the bottom half of my outfit I went through another section of the wardrobe that has not seen the day of light so such a long time also. I pulled out a grey t shirt, a nice Cotton On one that I have never worn. It has small sleaves and a nice V cut top. I threw it on and looked great.

But then it hit me. Where. Are. My. Boobs? I mean seriously, where are they? I had to check if they were still attached to my body. They have gone, they aren’t socks just yet but my perfectly sized oranges are now more like apricots…….

And this, ladies and gentlemen is why weight loss costs you money because I am now currently googling boob jobs and how soon I can get one!

Soap Box Feed

I’m sat here alone tonight. It’s Australia Day Eve and I have to work tomorrow. B and I are lucky enough to have friends around us who want to spend time with us and B is taking full advantage of this being up in Nelson Bay tonight.

I was trolling Facebook for “something to do” checking out posts and seeing what is going on in the world. I have joined a few facebook “pages” and most of the time I just giggle, sigh or move past the mundane, self-absorbed, ridiculous, posts/questions/issues some people have.

A few years ago I would have jumped on any bandwagon going, to give me “two cents” on a topic I have no issue with, didn’t have anything to do with me but felt I was entitled to have a say. I have taken a back seat on those for a long time now, and it feels quite liberating. Knowing that I don’t need to tell these people what I think or how to live their lives, and guess, in the hope that they will eventually work out their shit.

There was one lady, she said she was engaged, been engaged for 2 years and yet a few nights ago her fiancé, the man she loves, decided that their “fight” needed to be taken to another level and he pinned her to a wall by her neck. My first reaction is “what the actual fuck? Why would you be with someone like that?” but then in the next thought “Why do you feel the need to put this on social media?” Needless to say I did not comment and moved on from that post. It does beg the question “how many people are going through this and feel by venting on social media feels that it may fix/help/solve their situation. I say “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Again though, I feel that posts like that do not need my attention as they will just bring me down. When I started on Facebook many, MANY moons ago, I was all about airing everything little detail of my life. What I had eaten, what I had done that day, who I had spoken to and what I was going to have for dinner.

When I came to Australia I was particularly bad. I think, in hind sight I was trying to justify why I had chosen to stay living here. It wasn’t good enough in my mind and of those back in the UK that I had made this decision to spend the rest of my life in a country half way around the world from my I did just that! Told everyone how I had managed a 5 km run, did 3 loads of washing, hung it out, had breakfast, fake tanned and all before 9am. Now I look back and see how menial it all was.

Social Media is so great in some respects but on the other hand needs to take a back seat in people’s lives. I used to say I had facebook so I could keep in contact with friends I had from school, work or just general life I the UK. I now know this is bullshit because I do not speak to, have a relationship with or even wonder about most of these people on my facebook but I keep them there because it makes me feel like they are still my friends and I love living vicariously through other peoples posts.

Needless to say I picked up the phone and rang AR to have a chat, poor duck is sick in bed but still had 10 minutes to just catch up.

Facebook is not life, it is other people telling you about their lives without actually telling you in person. Pick up the phone people and let those who matter most, know you are alive and what you have done that day!

Rant Over.

I am seriously NOT a housewife!!

Ok, so I am having a little giggle to myself right now. I set up this blog today, I have called it I Am Not a Housewife because I am not technically a housewife. I work full time and I also run a household.

The reason I am laughing right now is because I went out this morning to pick up a few groceries and ended up coming home with these……..

Microfiber extending Duster Pole & Glass/Dusting Mitt…….rather “housewfiey” if I might say!


After “popping” into Aldi to get cat food and walking out with numerous other products, I went over to Coles to pick up the few things that are not available at Aldi.

I swear, there are stories happening all around us and yet we are often to oblivious to even notice.

The lady on my checkout had to call her supervisor over and I caught her saying, “It’s the man in the striped red and black T-shirt.” Intrigued I asked the young girl (after commenting on how nice her bright pink lipstick was)  what the issue was. She proceeded to tell me that this reoffender comes to Coles, grabs a plastic shopping bag from the tills, walks into the store, fills it with Chillies and then advises the check out girls that he has already purchased said chillies but forgot one other thing and therefore get away with not paying for the chillies. Alas Red and black stripped t-shirt man…….your rouse is discovered and you will no longer be able to achieve a free bag of chillies from Coles.

At the same checkout, the old duck behind me then pipes up and tells us that she used to take her father to the shops but stopped doing so as he kept stealing chewing gum! Hilarious!

Anyway, I walked back to my car, came home, unpacked my groceries and made some lunch!

I do love fresh baked rolls with Brie and Parma Ham.


Opening Pandora’s Box – Written Monday 19 Jan 2015

I’ve taken a deep breath before I commit myself to write this. I haven’t written in over 7 years. Not because I haven’t wanted to but because other situations and a new life have taken precedent.

When I started writing, it was my way of coping and then it progressed onto me healing. I guess the reason I haven’t written for so long is because that past chapter of my life has closed and another, beautiful one opened for me.

So I guess I will start by saying, there truly is a silver lining on any horror story, any times or hurt or grief, and generally at the end of any time that you may ask the question “why me?”

Let’s start and introduce myself. My name is Samantha and I am 30 years old. It feels funny typing that as it was only my birthday a week ago but I’m definitely 30- however I don’t feel it one bit. Well, I say that, what I mean from not feeling it one bit is that I don’t feel like I’m 30, I don’t feel like I have been on this earth for 30 years! On the other hand I know full well I am 30 because I have “laughter lines” (that’s right they aren’t wrinkles!) and I have a mortgage, a husband and commitments that I relish in. I live in Australia and have been here for 6 ½ years.

Coming to Australia in October 2008 was the best thing I have ever done in my life. It started out as a journey to find myself and yet in that journey, and very early on, I met a man who would encourage me to grow and achieve more than I could ever hope to have done had I been doing it alone.

You see, I have depression. I am depressed. I have a psychological disorder. However you want to label this “condition” I see it as sadness. I had a sadness that I did not know how to cope with and that consumed a lot of my teen years. It’s a part of me that I have learnt to love and grow with. I know what you’re thinking, “how could someone love being depressed?” but see, you are asking the wrong question. You should be asking “how has she learnt to love her depression?”

I have totally gone off subject right now but I think this is a pretty important subject to connect and talk about.

I love my depression because that is me. I have learnt to love myself through many years of not enjoying me. Worrying what others thought about me and often not wanting to be me. I am a fortunate one though, through years of counselling and marrying the most incredible man, I have learnt that I am not sick, I am not sad, I am not wrong. I have learnt that I am me, I have my ups and downs, I have my moments of wanting to hide away, I have my moments when I question what life is really all about but it all comes down to one thing, who am I and do I want to be that person?

So many people comment on what an endearing person I am. How full of life I am. What wonderful confidence I have and how I light up a room by just walking into it. People say I am charismatic, that I radiate confidence. I do feel confident in situations I know. I love my life, my job and my friends. I am confident in situations I know and can control. I am not confident in those I don’t.

I don’t do big crowds, I don’t deal with sudden change very well and I am seriously the biggest home 30 year old you could meet! The idea of going out “clubbing” on a Friday or Saturday night is my idea of a nightmare, yet catch me 10 years ago and you would never find me at home. Makes me think, I was trying to escape something and now I’m quite happy to be the “boring” 30 year old sat at home with her husband and 3 fur babies?

But you know what? I enjoy fine wine, I relish in wonderful home cooked and take away food. I enjoy being able to have a steady conversation with my husband or friend, whomever will listen at the time, rather than fighting over the loud doof doof of the base in a club.

I met Chris today, he is a children’s poetry writer. His concept and the way he and his wife approach life is one to be bottled up and sold for millions. They met me for all of 30 minutes and yet I felt like I had known them for a life time. Their admiration and love for each other was incredible after over 20 years of marriage. This is a power couple that I look up to. These people I shared a glass of sparkling with have inspired me to start writing tonight.