mother’s day

Every time a special day rolls around, I debate with myself on whether I should write something for, and about, you. My mum.

It is the fifth mothers day without you, and the fifth year I still have so many words I could write about the love I have for you. Five years, and five weeks ago I picked up my phone to call you. You would assume that after such a long time, moments like that wouldn’t happen anymore; you would get used to the loss. And I have, somewhat. But in this particular moment, on this particular day, I forgot. I just simply forgot that you were not at home, with a cup of tea, cuddled up with the dogs. I went to call you, and I only realised I couldn’t when I saw your name wasn’t in my favourite contacts.

It simultaneously feels as if it’s been a whole lifetime, and like it happened just last week. We had a friendship, a relationship, a love that could have put even Lorelai and Rory Gilmore to the test.

I’m coming so far in life, Ma, I’m becoming what I have always wanted to be and it feels so incredibly fucking unfair that you are not here. That you are not with me. You didn’t even know I had this ability to write because I kept it hidden for so many years. And I know, in the spiritual sense, you are with me. But sometimes, Ma, I just need you in the physical sense. I need you by my side, and I need you to call.

I’m tired. I’m tired of people blaming my mental health on grief, and sometimes it’s the funniest feeling. All I want to do is vent to you, to tell you how stupid people are and how annoying I find them and how I want people to get that I struggle with mental health, and along with that, I miss you. I know you would understand, and I contradict myself in saying that maybe if you were here, if you could physically say to me you understand, I would be okay. But I don’t know that, because I will never know a future life with you. I’m tired of people thinking they understand my mind, even when they read these posts; it’s not even the slightest glimpse into what I feel.

I’m tired of people using you as their excuse. That they were “there for me,” all that time ago, as if this gives them reason to pull me down; for me to stay the same, rather than become the person I am supposed to be. I was scared for so long of becoming who I am supposed to be because I thought that meant leaving you behind. There are narcissistic, shitty people I would prefer to leave behind rather than you. But life isn’t fair, and you made sure to teach me that. The loss of you instilled it in me.

Sometimes I can’t conjure up specific memories of you and it throws me into a spiral of existentialism; it’s life, you know, and just because you can’t remember certain things doesn’t mean you’ll forget them (because, obviously, I’ll never forget you), and I get that, I understand that, but I don’t; why? Why did you have to go? Out of everyone? You?

But then there are moments when I get a jolt, and I hear your laugh, so crisp and perfect as if you are sitting right beside me, and I want to catch it in a small jar as if it’s a butterfly and keep it; keep it to look at, to admire, to just simply have. But like the beauty of a butterfly, the memories are meant to fly by when I need it most; you are saying, “hey kiddo, don’t forget I’m still here. I’m still here, honey.”

What is there to say after five years?

You are still, you are always, the most incredible, most beautiful, best friend, best mum, best person I ever had the pleasure of knowing. And I miss you every goddamned day.

“Life sucks and then you die so fuck the world and let’s get high,” — Rosie Helmers.

A note to all the lucky ones; who have a mum they care about, who have a mum who’s still here. Please, for the love of fucking Christ, treasure her. Cherish her and show her how much you love her. Make her a cup of tea whenever she wants one and hug her, and tell her. Tell her how grateful you are to have her. Not just today, but every day. Because you may lose her next week, or you may lose her in twenty years, but when you lose her, there is no getting her back. All you are left with is, albeit a multitude of love and memories, inevitably an ache.

As you search for the perfect gift, remember that you are the best one they could ever ask for.

A note to the ones who understand where I’m coming from; remember the love she had for you, and share it with the ones you still have. Laugh, cry and live for her because she would want nothing less. You aren’t alone in this, however much it feels like it sometimes, and as much as humans, and life, suck — it’s so beautiful.

Because what’s not beautiful about loving something so goddamned much that you hurt so hard when it’s gone?

Happy Mother’s Day. X


she’s one of us: q&a with jesinta

You win a pass to a style Q&A with Jesinta Franklin and the inner fan girl goes crazy. Oh my god, what kind of questions should I ask? How do I act? What should I wear? How do I do my makeup? Will I be able to get a photo with her? She’s this big, international model, only three years your senior, who has reached so many heights in her career that you have only dreamed of and can merely hope you get to some sort of level of hers.

She walks in, and she laughs and is excited to see this group of women ready and champagned up to listen to her opinions on style for AW18. And you realise she is just, one of us.

She’s dressed in a stunning Sass & Bide suit, a white tee, and absolutely rocking her new hairstyle. Almost the first thing asked of her is how she feels about her new hairstyle.

“I absolutely love it,” she said, touching the ends of her hair, “I think as women we can let our hair be a safety net for us.”

I nodded with glee, obviously having always been someone who has used hair as a way to express myself. When anyone asks what they should do with their hairstyle, my response is always, “Chop it. Chop it all off.” The short hair has given her more chance to experiment with accessorising, as I feel myself smile and nod, remembering when someone asked me not long ago if big earrings were my ‘thing’.

“All about the big earrings. Hoops, love them,” she says, showing off her big, gold hoops.

“I hate my legs,” she tells us, “it’s always been my thing I hate. We all have those things.”

White tees are her go-to, that and men’s clothes. She steals Buddy’s clothes like it’s going out of fashion; as per her Instagram post on landing in Canberra, he commented saying “Love that jacket.” — coincidentally, one of his own. She finds that men’s clothing fits nicer on a woman and, paired with tailored clothing, can fit your figure beautifully. She laughs about the white tee she’s wearing, as she pulls back her Sass & Bide blazer, showing us the “staff” written on the breast.

“I bought this online, a bit of a piss-take…oop, am I allowed to swear?” she laughs.

One of her biggest tricks when she’s going for a board meeting with men is wearing men’s perfume.

“Psychological thing to play with the big boys,” she says, with a playful wink, “paired with a red lip for a bit of glam, it screams success.”

What are your tips for Autumn Winter 2018? Especially, as Canberrans, we very easily stick to the simple jeans, blacks, whites and greys…

“It’s really bad to make purchases you’re only going to wear once,” she says, “fast fashion is bad for the environment. Invest in classic pieces, go op shopping, you don’t need too many things in your wardrobe, just the right things. And it’s how you wear it ladies! Confidence is always key.”

And, obviously, there’s a small part of the mere mortal that thinks, it’s easy to be confident when you’re an international model. But she very quickly wipes that thought away, as she confirms that she really is just one of us.

“I hate my legs,” she tells us, “it’s always been my thing I hate. We all have those things. High waisted mum jeans are great for that, paired with (of course) a white tee.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with track pants, ladies!” As laughter ripples through the crowd. “It’s how you wear them! The more slouchy, the better. It’s like, I don’t really care (but I do) but I don’t, I look good. You know, I like that vibe,” she laughs. “Pair it with a white tee and blazer, and nice boots. I’m big on comfort.”

Mixing and matching different textures is in; she pulls out a pair of felt pants mixed with a glittery jumper. (Though, there is a small part of me that thinks the felt tights I own won’t quite work with my sparkly kmart jumper…) Patterned blazers, burgundy is always a classic autumnal colour, and using scarves for more than one thing; she wraps her scarves around her handbag to accessorize (and, tip from ya gal rackers, head scarves are most definitely back in).

There is an obvious cringe through the crowd in the young faces as she tells us kitten heels are back in, and she notices.

“No, really, my one thing I wouldn’t have wanted to come back in fashion was kitten heels,” she tells us, “I hated them. But they’re in again, and everyone’s wearing them. The soles of your feet will be thanking you.”

“And move aside, LBD’s, it’s the little navy dresses this season!”

(Men’s perfume) Psychological thing to play with the big boys, paired with a red lip for a bit of glam, screams success.

In terms of keeping that killer body in shape, she tells us there is such a thing as too much exercise. She had been working out six times a week, high intensity, and had become obsessive with eating healthy; it had become detrimental to her health. So, naturally, she wanted to balance it out; and she became lazy. I think we can all relate, especially as Canberrans in this weather.

“I’m back on track now, though,” she says, “three high intensity workouts a week, and yoga and pilates for the rest of the week. Lots of probiotics, and every morning I have lemon with hot water. It’s great for the skin, too.”

So…do you drink? is asked of her, as we all laugh while downing our free champers thanks to Canberra Centre.

“Oh, of course!” she laughs. “Love a drink. Hate a hangover. Love a drink.”

But the best part of all was when she was asked how her and Buddy deal with being recognised.

“It’s hardly me, but when I’m with Buddy, it’s like every second person!” she laughs, “but I always have time for people who recognise me. You know, I wouldn’t be where I am without these people – I understand that I am successful because of these people. And all Buddy is, is his football; but he would not have become such a big footballer if it hadn’t been for the fans. On our worst days, we remind each other that we are where we are because of the people who recognise us.”

Even, after all of this, she sticks around to meet us and patiently introduces herself to each person that comes up. She has succeeded in unimaginable ways, but she tells us she still has many more goals to kick (much like Buddy, ha ha).

Style, class, and success; but she is still, one of us.