Right now, in this very moment, I don’t think I could even begin to express how I’m feeling. Partly because for the first time in a really, really long time, I don’t actually know how to feel and partly because even if I did, I would have absolutely no idea where to begin.

To sum it all up, basically my whole world has just been completely turned upside down. Not quite in the same way that it was three years ago, but upside down nonetheless. I suppose you could probably say that it’s more of a ‘turned back the way that it was before’ kind of situation, which considering I’m only now just beginning to feel comfortable in my own little world again, means that we are back to square one; upside down.

After countless years of having the most limited diet of anyone that I know, a recent food intolerance test has determined that now, my diet is in fact not limited at all.

Three years ago the results of this very same test stated that my future was to include a diet free of all gluten, wheat, dairy, soy, eggs and nuts; indefinately. A result that as you can imagine, took quite some time to come to terms with. Now however, after a seemingly never ending medical journey, it would seem that we have finally had some success. According to the most recent results, whilst banana, pineapple, cranberries and almonds are to be avoided; gluten, wheat, dairy, soy and eggs are now all very much an option. An extremely confusing option that I still can’t quite wrap my head around.

For the rest of the world, I’m sure news of this magnitude would be worthy of a celebration like no other and chances are, if we were to have this very same conversation a week from now, I would probably agree with you wholeheartedly. However right now, it’s all just a little bit too much to handle.

Although I had of course always hoped that fixing my ‘leaky gut’ as countless doctors so eloquently put it, along with my endless other tummy issues, would somehow, someday, result in a reversal of my endless food intolerances, I never in a million years expected for that someday to arrive so soon. Yet here I am now, staring at a piece of paper that has completely thrown my world into a spin.

Right now I feel as though someone has picked up the giant bubble that I have been living in for the past three years and thrown it into the deepest of oceans and well, as luck would have it, it just so happened to pop on impact. So here I am now, floating in unfamiliar waters with absolutely no idea which direction to begin swimming in first.

For safety reasons, rather than confusing myself further, I have decided that the best option would be to lay on my back and try my best to float with the stream for a little while, just until I can clear my thoughts. Maybe then this deep, dark ocean won’t seem so terrifying. Maybe then I’ll feel brave enough to take my first step towards this brand new and wonderfully exciting adventure.

This time last year I was on a giant aeroplane in the middle of the sky, floating my way towards one of the biggest adventures of my entire life.

This time last year I was just hours away from arriving in one of the most extravagant cities in all of the world; Las Vegas.

This time last year I was just two wonderful weeks away from relaxing on the breathtakingly beautiful beaches of Hawaii.

This time last year, whilst I had absolutely no idea what to expect of this wild and crazy adventure, I was certain that the next few weeks were going to change my life forever.
I was right.

Fast forward three hundred and sixty-five days however and here we are again, back in the final days of the magical month of April. Only this time instead of flying half way across the country, I am back in Australia enjoying the way the warm summer sunshine dances with the cool winter breeze. Back spending the days reminiscing about an adventure that was even more wonderful than I ever could have imagined; an adventure that has not only left me with endless treasured memories, but with a sense of wanderlust that has me dreaming the days away.

Today, like every other 25th day of April, we made our way to the tiny little town of Toorbul to take part in their annual Anzac Day Service. A beautiful, heartfelt service that although smaller than most, continues to evoke a larger than life spirit in each of those loyal Australians who so proudly attend.

Today however, more so than other years gone by I found myself walking away with an overwhelming sense of both admiration and appreciation for the fallen; for the sacrifice that each and every one of those soldiers has made and for the sacrifice that so many others continue to make, day in and day out.

Today more so than any other day, I was overwhelmed with pride.

Unlike the naive, four year old me who so happily attended that very same Anzac Day Service, I was no longer carelessly marching through the streets, just to reach a fire shed filled with the promise of endless amounts of morning tea. Instead, it seemed that the twenty-two year old me had somehow developed a newfound understanding of the true spirit behind April 25th. It seemed that it was no longer the fire shed filled with morning tea that had me overwhelmed with emotion, but was now something much greater.

Instead, it was the feeling in the pit of my stomach as I proudly marched along to the sound of those bagpipes. The feeling of watching those people appear from the comfort of their own homes, just to pay their respects.

The feeling of standing there with your head held high, watching our flag float so beautifully in the breeze. The piercingly treasured sound of the bugle and the way that every time, almost instantly, the deepest of emotions flood through my body.

The feeling upon hearing those magical words of The Ode and the way that every time without fail, the simple act of observing one minutes silence would always take me back; back to the bravery of each and every one of those men who so willingly fought for our freedom that day. Back to the courage of each and every one of those soldiers, the overwhelming strength of the wives that were left behind and the faith of the children, left praying that their fathers would safely return home.

Today however, unlike other years gone by, I have come to realise that whilst Anzac Day is indeed a time to remember, it is also a time to celebrate our freedom and a time to give thanks to all of those countless soldiers who so bravely gave the ultimate sacrifice; a sacrifice that despite our unwavering gratitude, no amount of Anzac Day parades could ever fully repay.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Let We Forget.

After walking around like a Grandma for what seemed to be the entire day today, I found myself subconsciously questioning my particular choice in weekend activities. Perhaps doing all of those wonderful things all in the space of just one single day was maybe just a little too much to begin with.

Considering I woke up this morning unable to lift my arms above my head, perhaps so eagerly suggesting a throwing competition with my stud of a boyfriend, wasn’t such a wonderful idea after all.

Considering I awoke to the extreme ache of every single tiny little muscle surrounding my ribs; muscles that up until now, I didn’t even know existed, perhaps deciding to continuously swing a broom handle in an attempt to hit a wiffle ball wasn’t such a wonderful idea either.

Considering from the first moment I opened my eyes this morning I have been struggling to simply move in general, perhaps the spontaneous request to be picked up and carried at full speed around the backyard, every single time that I managed to hit the ball was also not such a wonderful idea.

On the plus side however, even after all of that, those aching little legs of mine are still allowing me to walk. Something that even now continues to amaze me and those muscles, the ones that are aching, well I am more than pleased to say that this time they’re aching by choice.

This time they’re aching because I chose to spend the afternoon doing something that I love, not as the result of a medical condition and that in itself is a miracle. A miracle that I have been praying for, for what feels like an eternity. A miracle that I am now grateful for each and every single day.

Whether they are your very own precious little miracle, your best friends brand new bundle of joy or a blessing in the lives of a couple whom you have never met before, there is just something so overwhelmingly infectious about the magical sound of a little baby’s belly laugh; the kind of laugh that from the very second you hear it, almost instantly you’re laughing too.

From the first moment that beautiful sound of laughter escapes their tiny little mouths, even the strongest have been known to go weak at the knees.

 Whether it’s the way their whole precious little face just completely lights up or the way that once they start, nothing in the world can stop them. The way that if you listen closely, you can almost hear the laughter making its way up from their tiny little bellies and into their perfect little mouths or the realisation that in the midst of all of that laughter, they are completely oblivious to all of the pain and destruction in the world.

Whatever the reasons, despite not yet having a beautiful little bundle of joy to call my own, that perfect little sound that they so effortlessly create continues to make me melt. Every single time.

Just one tiny chuckle from the mouth of someone’s beatiful little bundle of joy and almost instantly, we are reminded of the possibility that perhaps magic truly does still exist. Almost instantly, we are reminded that regardless of all of the terrible things that may be happening in this world, right here in this very moment there is a precious little human who although blissfully unaware, is still enjoying the innocence of life. A precious little human who still has the ability to see magic in places where the rest of us no longer can.

Once upon a time in a not so far away land, there lived a girl. She had blonde hair, hazel eyes and a face that was rarely without a smile.

She was a happy girl with a laugh that was loud enough to echo an entire village and dreams that stretched out further than the yellow brick road. She was kind hearted just like her Mumma, ever so stubborn just like her Dadda and regardless of the circumstances, she would always stand up for what she believed in.

She was never, ever on time, refused to wear a watch and would do everything in her power not to wake up to a morning alarm. She would stay up far beyond her bedtime, sleep in until midday and as embarrassing as it was, she would dribble in her sleep.

She would laugh at absolutely anything, sneeze every single time that she saw the sun and every day at exactly 11:11 she would make a wish. She had an irrational fear of gremlins, refused to fall asleep if she was home alone and although she would never admit it, she was still more than a little bit afraid of the dark.

She was completely hopeless with geography, even worse at giving directions and regardless of how hard she tried she was terrible at baking. She loved to write and yet she would hardly ever read, she was completely uncoordinated and despite her love for music, she could not dance to save herself.

Pink cupcakes were her favourite as were cinnamon buns and she would always, always choose vanilla over chocolate. She never missed breakfast, regardless of the time and if it were up to her she would quite happily choose to live off pancakes for the rest of her life.

Her favourite colours were turquoise and peach, yet if you caught her off guard she would probably tell you that her favourite colour was purple. She loved giraffes for a reason that even she was unsure of and just recently, she developed an attachment to owls.

She would call everything a ‘him’ regardless of whether it was male or female and she had a terrible habit of shortening words that were in fact, already short enough. She was hopeless at the beach to the point where she would likely drown without supervision and she was absolutely terrified of waves.

She loved the smell of jasmine, anything lemon-myrtle and had somewhat of an obsession with all things coconut. She would never leave the house without her toenails painted, despite the fact that she struggled to paint between the lines and much to her Mummas disgust, she rarely bothered to brush her hair.

She was completely unorganised, never quite mastered the art of time management and she rarely answered her phone when it would ring. She had a queen sized bed which she preferred to sleep diagonally in and three giant fluffy pillows that she could never quite choose between.

She had a picture perfect family, a superhero for a big brother and the very best friends that anyone could ever ask for. She loved big dogs more than small dogs, loved to play board games and although she wasn’t quite sure how she got so lucky, she somehow managed to find her very own Prince Charming.

She loved country music, had a rather strange obsession with gumboots and everytime that she picked up a pen, a tiny little sailboat would almost magically draw itself. She had enough stuffed giraffes to open her very own Safari Outlet and despite the lack of room on her bed she still insisted on buying more.

She had a crooked smile, a lazy eye and was the complete opposite to photogenic and after a total of twenty-two years spent trying to figure it all out, she was finally beginning to realise just who she was and just what it was that she wanted from this wild and crazy world.

Just me, my two favourite boys, a brand new baseball glove and a real baseball; a combination that I have missed more than you can even begin to imagine. One that I have been dreaming of every single day for approximately one thousand and sixty-five days.

Today, that dream came true.

After one thousand and sixty-five days of imagining this exact moment, it was finally here. I was finally back with my two favourite boys, a brand new baseball glove and a real baseball. I was finally back smiling, laughing and having the absolute time of my life. I was finally strong enough again to enjoy the one thing that I loved the most in this world and there was not a single thing that was going to stop me.

No words could even begin to describe that kind of happiness.
That kind of happiness had been a long time coming.

So long in fact, that I was almost certain I would’ve forgotten what it felt like; I guess I should’ve known better. From the very first moment that I picked up that ball, all of those memories came flooding back just like it were yesterday and for a split second it almost felt as though I had never left.

It was then, in that exact moment that I became sure of one thing; this was why I had stayed strong for so long, this was why I had held on for all of this time, this was why I had fought so hard. For moments just like this.

Regardless of how strong we may consider ourselves to be, how well we may have been handling the curveballs that life has thrown our way or how brave a face we may have been putting on for the rest of the world to see, sooner or later we all have our weak moments. Sooner or later, somewhere in between all of the endless good days, life throws us a tough one just to keep us on our toes.

Sooner or later our strength subsides and we are left feeling overwhelmingly vulnerable to each and every one of those curveballs. Our once calm thoughts turn to frustration and the weight of the world that has been resting on our shoulders, suddenly seems too much to bear. We become overpowered by a flood of emotions and our once brave face becomes one that has been covered by tears; tears that luckily, more often that not, bring with them a magical sense of clarity.

A sense of clarity that carries an air of newfound strength and an overwhelming wave of determination. A determination that pushes us to continue to fight through the tough days and a strength that reassures us that even in our weakest moments, we are not only strong enough but we are brave enough to take on the world.

You know that quiet, peaceful moment when you have just climbed into bed after a day that you could have sworn was never going to end?
The moment you have just finished rolling around under your million and one different blankets and you are finally comfortable. You’re not quite asleep yet, but you’re not fully awake either; your head is resting softly on your pillow, your eyes are finally beginning to close and you are just seconds away from drifting off into the realm of dreams.

Right then in the depths of that very moment, just what exactly is playing on your mind?

Are you subconsciously reliving the day just passed or are you busy writing a list in your mind of the endless possibilities that tomorrow may bring?

Are you imagining something magical that is yet to come or are you happily remembering adventures of the years gone by?

Are you praying to your Angels for a helping hand or are you thanking God for all of life’s daily blessings?

Are you fighting with the person you’ve become or are you questioning the kind of person who you would like to be?

Are you blissfully content with the world you have created for yourself or are you too focused on the string of regrets from your past to ever truly move towards your future?

Are you already just seconds away from yet another wonderful dream or are you desperately counting hundreds of lost little sheep?

Are you smiling uncontrollably at yet another amazing memory or are tears beginning to well in your eyes from something that you would much rather forget?

Are you excitedly counting down the days until your weekend can begin or are you regretfully awaiting your next monotonous day at work?

Do you slowly drift off into a land filled with wild and crazy dreams or does your mind instantly go calm, just like a still, quiet sea?

Do you open your eyes and stare blankly at the darkness, searching for that faint glimmer of fairy dust to dart across the room or do you keep them tightly closed, in fear of what else may be hiding in the darkness?

Whatever you are thinking, whatever you are feeling and where ever your mind goes the very moment that your head hits that pillow, could say more about the person you are than you may ever realise. Right then in those very moments we have the opportunity to learn a lot about a person, just as we have the opportunity to learn a lot about ourselves.

It is right then in the depths of those very moments that the true magic happens. It is then that the realm of dreams open up and we are at our most vulnerable and regardless of how hard we may try to alter the course of our thoughts and our emotions during that time, in those very moments they remain completely out of our control; that’s what makes them so rare and so precious. The fact that for one brief and shining moment our deepest thoughts have the ability to remain untouched, unaltered and unharmed.

That’s where the true magic lies.

Over the space of this past long weekend, whilst happily wasting the days away with my amazing boyfriend, the entire house to ourselves and not a single care in the world, I realised something. Although two and a half years of Chronic Fatigue had left me with a newfound appreciation for everyday life, it had also left me with a habit that unfortunately, up until now I wasn’t quite aware of.

Somewhere between living a life where I was too sick to even dress myself and a life where I was finally beginning to feel well again, I had forgotten what it felt like to just let go. I had forgotten what it felt like to be crazy, to be carefree and to simply enjoy the moment. At just twenty-two years of age, I had forgotten how to have fun.

Somewhere along the way I had managed to get myself into a routine. A routine where by means of self preservation, my mind would automatically tell my body that I was unable to participate, simply because in 99.99% of cases my fragile state meant that it was physically impossible to do so.

Now however, I am pleased to say that things are finally beginning to change.

After having spent almost a year in a state of recovery, my body is no longer as fragile as it once was and participating in those simple, everyday activities is actually beginning to become possible again. The tricky part now has been trying to convince my mind to stop second guessing my body and to trust that after all of this time, I really am strong enough again. Something that after this weekend, I think I have well and truly achieved.

Not only did I have the time of my life this weekend, but for the first time in years I had a tickle war with my boyfriend and somehow actually managed to fight back, without physically breaking. I rode down my hallway on a skateboard, without ending up in hospital. I played Wii-Sports with one of the most competitive boys I know, without my body falling apart. I balanced on a wooden fence at the beach, without someone having to hold me up. I played tug-a-war with my Matilda and her brand new Easter Bunny, without falling to the ground in a heap. I laughed uncontrollably, almost to the point of tears, without sleeping for hours after and for the first time in a really, really long time, I actually had fun without the fear of my entire body shutting down.

For the first time in a really, really long time, I no longer felt as though I was watching the excitement of life pass me by. Instead, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I was certain that the fun was only just beginning again.