Taking another pill to be mentally stable,
I just want to show the world that I am capable,
I’m sick of these thoughts going back and forth like a ball on a ping pong table,
I remember the times I wanted a label,
Now I’m sick of it,
Convincing myself I’m emotionally disabled.

I think back to the times I thought you were carrying my daughter or son,
That gave me the strength to feel like I should carry on,
Then I decided you were not the one,
And since then my life feels harder then sporting in a triathlon.

Everyone I’ve loved has taught me it’s not worth doing,
All my life I’ve had to be choosing,
Feels like I’m in a battle that I’m constantly loosing. 

Guess I better start sewing cause I’ve been stitched up by love,
Walking the streets calling people sis and bruv,
The life I’ve lived has been known as rough,
Therapist after therapist saying to me that must of been tough,
I’ve grown up and it’s about time enough is enough. 

My planner is one of those simple ring binder journals you can pick up from any stationery supplies store. White paper. No ruled lines to cage my venturesome handwriting and doodling. I’m an obsessive note-taker and fill pages to the margins with to do lists, rough sketches, and ideas for blog posts. I usually go through one planner every month.

Who me? Organized? My husband might tell you otherwise, but I do find it hard to keep track of our weekly schedule. You know: school, swimming, grocery shopping, tidying up, paying bills, remembering appointments and so on. Fortunately, in our house we all pitch in. No one person does everything. But we do have a little secret that helps our day run more smoothly.

There are millions of tips out there on how to fly with kids, what to bring on camping vacations, which suitcase to buy, where to go and what to see in just about every corner on Earth. What I want to share today is something a little different – something that we discovered last summer during a family hike in the Appalachians.