Uncertainty at it’s best.

When it comes down to all of the finer details in life, how is it that we can ever really be certain just how well we know a person?

Is the extent of a relationship defined by the quantity of information that is so willingly given out or the quality of that very same information and more importantly, the raw emotion that lay behind it?

Is it hidden in the way that they so bravely bare their soul or is it merely a matter of picking up on all of the cautious little ways that they so carefully try to hide it?

Is it dependant upon their willingness to share their hopes and their dreams or more so the fact that they are open to telling us the contents of their lunchbox on any given day?

Is it more about the big things; the make or break moments that have occurred throughout their life or the constant little things that seem to fill their day with smiles?

Is how well we know a person based solely upon the notion that we know where it is they are heading or is it perhaps more valuable to become familiar with where it is they have been?

Is it about the endless things that make them smile from the very moment they walk out that front door or the precious little things that appear to be so safely hidden behind it?

Is a persons character defined by all of the grand life lessons that have been carelessly thrown their way or is the simple fact that we know without a doubt, that they prefer breakfast over lunch enough to vouch for who they are?

Is a long lasting conversation about third world hunger likely to give us an insight into the inner workings of a persons mind or do we have the ability to gain so much more from a simple, yet detailed observation of their uniquely beautiful quirks?

Is what they so openly tell us going to give us the answers that we seek or is what we are all truly looking for hidden behind that sparkle in their eyes, each and every time that they say nothing at all?

Is the truest indication of a persons nature shown in all of the facets that they so willingly allow to shine through or are the real secrets the deep and mysterious parts that always seem to lie so carefully hidden, only to emerge in amongst the darkest of clouds?

At the end of the day, are we expected to form friendships by delving into the depths of a persons memories, praying that we don’t come out empty handed or is it hoped that we simply sit back and patiently wait for the truth to happily be handed to us?

At the end of the day, aside from the overwhelming voice inside our heads and the instant, undeniable feeling inside our hearts, when it comes to matters of the human race; how can we ever really be certain just what it is that we are getting ourselves into?

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The most magical milestone yet.

Just when you reach a point in your life where you are certain that you have everyone you could ever need, fate comes along and proves you wrong in the most wonderful way possible and all of a sudden, in the space of an instant, you are left holding yet another piece of the puzzle that really, you weren’t even sure you were missing.

As many of you are probably already aware, due to slightly unfortunate life circumstances I have spent the past five years patiently waiting for a time when I could finally experience the magic of baseball in Lismore first hand and ironically enough, as luck would have it 2014 brought with it the chance to do just that and while I had obviously held long lasting expectations, I think it would be safe to say that those expectations have well and truly been surpassed.

Not only did I have the absolute time of my life playing a game that I love more than anything in this world, but I was lucky enough to become part of a team in which the bond was almost indescribable. In fact, for a group of people who were thrown together rather spontaneously, the extent to which we all instantly moulded together is something that I have never before experienced in all of my years of baseball and the simple fact that I was able to share in that, is something that I certainly won’t be forgetting any time soon.

An entire weekend filled with smiles, laughter and inappropriate inside jokes. Crazy adventures and countless silly selfies. Adorable sing-a-longs and rather impressive drunk dance-offs. Daily pool sessions and impromptu rain delay entertainment. On and off the field team bonding and friendships that will undoubtedly last a lifetime, all shared with some of the most amazing people that I have honestly ever known.

Another magical milestone on my long road to recovery, another mountain of memories to add to my ever growing collection and yet another reason to count my blessings, a million times over and all just from one wonderful little weekend.

Dearest Universe, you have most definately outdone yourself this time around. You have spoilt me rotten in the best way possible and for that, I will be forever grateful.

So to my hilariously wonderful, ever so talented and endlessly beautiful Brisbane North stud muffins; thank you for the weekend of a lifetime. Just in case I didn’t already tell you enough, you are all incredibly amazing and you have without a doubt worked your way into a rather well loved place in my heart. Something which considering the type of people that you all are, should come as no real surprise.

Baseball as a whole has always been a rather magical little family in my eyes. One which honestly, my life would be nowhere near as bright without and after the adventures from this weekend, not only have each and every one of you weaved your way beneath the wings of that family, but you have done so in a way that almost feels as though you have been there all along.

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Lismore 2015; I am already counting down the days.

The sweetest of surprises.

After a little over ten years in the wide world of baseball, it would be safe to say that I have collected my fair share of Coach’s Awards over the years. As you can probably imagine, it seems that every other year the ‘encouragement award’ of sorts would ironically, go to the single only girl in the team. A rather polite yet still socially acceptable way of saying “Sorry you didn’t quite get there, but hey Congratulations on trying!”

Needless to say, while I always smiled an overly appreciative smile and graciously accepted, the truth is that I never really thought much of it.

This year however, despite being given that very same award, the emotions that go alongside it appear to be entirely different. Instead of being given the award purely out of encouragement in regards to a skill level or rather lack thereof, it seems that this time around, the concept of skill level never entered the equation and I could not be happier.

For the first time in a little over ten years, I no longer feel as though I was awarded a trophy purely for encouragement purposes. Instead, I am walking away with not only the world’s biggest smile, but what seems to be an award of the kindest recognition and while it may not have been in regards to numbers or statistics, in my opinion, it was in regards to something far greater.

According to the wise words of a rather wonderful coach of mine, words that may or may not have caused a few hidden tears, the general consensus is that I was apparently, the heart and soul of the team this year. A statement that to be perfectly honest, not only has me completely lost for words, but has me feeling like the luckiest girl in the whole entire world.

So to my beautiful baseball boys, the ones who have without a doubt made this season one to remember, while I may not have made a speech as such I will say this:

While you may choose to believe that I was the heart and soul of our team this year, the truth is that every single part of that heart has been filled to the brim with love, laughter and memories from each and every one of you. Unconditional love that I am certain time will never change, endless amounts of laughter that has cemented our unbreakable bond and memories so bright that I doubt they will ever begin to fade.

It is no secret that diamonds have been known to sparkle and shine and ironically enough, it seems that the world of baseball is no exception.

With the overwhelming support from each and every single one of you, not only am I back shining brighter than ever before, but I am armed with a comeback story that to be perfectly honest, borderlines on fairy-tale worthy; a fairy-tale that just so happens to have the happiest ending of all.

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Twenty-three.

As a girl who absolutely adores birthdays and all things slightly festive, it may come as quite a shock to hear that this year, I was far from ready for celebrations. Despite my beliefs in the notion that age is simply a number, given the fact that I am one of Tay Swift’s biggest fans, I suppose you could say that 22 was not a number I was willing to give up lightly.

After three hundred and sixty-five days of endless singalong’s each and every time my phone would ring, realising that the precious little two had just become a three was somewhat of a bittersweet moment. A bittersweet moment made all the more bearable, compliments of a sneaky little midnight dance session and a day filled with endless celebratory smiles and while it should come as no surprise to hear that I am undoubtedly one of the luckiest girls in the whole entire world; something that I am constantly reminded of day in and day out, there will always be something so uniquely special about birthdays. Something that somehow, seems to make life all the more magical, even if it is just for one single day.

Just one single day of endless heartfelt messages, countless beautiful phone calls and sneaky surprise visits. Just one single day where all of the wonderful people we are so blissfully blessed to have in our lives, all band together in an attempt to have us feeling on top of the world and nine times out of ten, they manage to do just that.

So to all of those beautiful people who I can safely say my life wouldn’t possibly be as bright without; thank you. Thank you for not only making my birthday so completely wonderful, but for doing just that with each and every day in between.

At twenty-three years young I am pleased to say that regardless of losing a two and gaining a three, it seems that with a Mumma Bear like mine and just the right wrapping paper, any little girl can feel like a princess; quite possibly all year round.

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The time of my life.

They say that time flies when you’re having fun and I think I can speak for all of us when I say that given just how much fun we’ve all had this past season, it’s really no wonder time has passed us by so quickly.

For those of you who may have missed it though, here’s a quick recap of a day in the life of ‘Narangba Demons C Grade’ – the highlights reel of course:

1. Compulsory training sessions; short shorts only.

2. Animal themed Onesie nights, just because we can.

3. Epic Australia Day parties and weekly tavern trips.

4. Serenading sessions by our very own Matt Corby, only cuter.

5. Lap dancing lessons by the one and only ‘he wishes he was Magic Mike’.

6. Free barber shop visits; the kind you wish you never had.

7. Face time opportunities should you ever happen to miss a game.

8. The occasional, unexpected ambulance ride.

9. Far too many “That’s what she said” jokes.

And last but certainly not least…

10. The best homemade jam you will ever come across in all of your life, compliments of our cute little ex-baker’s Mumma.

So really, all things considered I suppose you could say that as far as a comeback is concerned, I did get fairly lucky with the crazy kids that I happened to come back to and while I may have started the season with just one big brother by my side, that is certainly not the way it all ended.

Here we are now, six months on and I can say with quite possibly the worlds biggest smile that I have somehow stumbled across a brand new, beautiful little family. A family that consists of nine slightly bigger brothers and one beautiful baby sister and honestly, I could not have imagined it any other way.

Three long years spent desperately waiting to be back out on that diamond and now, it all makes perfect sense. All of the waiting and all of the dreaming was leading up to this very moment; the moment I was destined to fall completely head over heels in love with that little white ball, all over again.

First season back, first ever Grand Final game and first ever Grand Final trophy; I think it’s fairly safe to say that family definately does it best!

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Curiosty killed the cat.

It seems to be a rather well known fact that unfortunately, it was curiosity that killed the cat all those years ago. Luckily for me however, while I have always been the curious type, I have never been overly fond of cats and so for the most part the theory hasn’t exactly been much of a deterrent; not for me at least.

As far as I’m concerned, curiosity is what makes even the dullest aspects of life exciting. Not only is it the spark behind the fire, but it’s the depth of colour behind the rainbow and quite frankly, everything else in between.

As far as I’m concerned, life was designed to be lived and the world was created to be explored.

Lessons were discovered to be learned and questions were raised to be asked.

Rules were made to be broken and lines in the sand were drawn to be crossed.

Authority was elected to be questioned and boundaries were put in place to push past.

The imagination was born to run wild and thoughts were formed to float freely and while at first glance the world may appear to be purely black and white, it’s often what we find hidden in amongst the endless grey matter that makes life exciting.

So exciting in fact, that it seems to have sparked just enough curiosity to coincidentally, have killed a rather infamous cat; a cat who would have more than likely, discovered countless answers to a rather long list of questions that realistically speaking, most of us won’t ever be brave enough to ask.

So while it has long been said that the lesson is to be found in the notion that curiosity is what killed the cat, perhaps the reality is that curiosity is quite possibly the single, defining factor in what may have just allowed that very same cat to ever truly live.

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The dark of the night.

Much to my Mumma’s dismay, for as long as I can possibly remember I have always, always been a night owl at heart and while that may well be due to the sheer amount of adventure that has been known to happen past the hours of 10:00pm, I believe it to be in the most part, due to the soft and subtle changes that seem to happen to the world, the very moment that first sign of darkness creeps in.

While not everyone may be willing to openly admit to such powerful truths, I think we can all agree that something magical happens once the sun has disappeared into the darkness and we are yet again, at one with the universe. Almost instantly, even our highest of walls are miraculously torn down and sure enough, there in the safety of the darkness we are able to seek comfort in one another.

Suddenly, we are overwhelmed not only by the feeling of freedom, but by the innate desire to share even our deepest of secrets with anyone who is kind enough to listen.

Suddenly, in the depths of darkness we are able to realise that the barriers we once thought to be separating us from one another are in fact entirely non existent and instead, we are perhaps closer than we ever have been before.

Suddenly, the world that seemed to be all so familiar appears to have changed dramatically, right there in front of our very eyes and while instincts may have lead us to hide from the truth in the sheer light of day, the moment the moon returns to fill the sky, those carefully hidden truths tend to escape all on their own.

Suddenly, all reasons to hide are lost and our true self appears, somewhat fleetingly, for anyone who is lucky enough to catch a glimpse.

Suddenly the world becomes a sanctuary of spilled secrets and while some of us may prefer the light of the morning, the sparkle of the sunrise and the hope of a new beginning; personally I prefer the dead of the night, the truth that escapes us and the curiosity that follows. I prefer undeniable honesty and the way that ironically, it’s the beauty in the darkness that unwillingly gives us the courage to bravely bare the light of our souls.

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The constant battle.

While most people in life seem to have things somewhat backwards in my opinion, choosing to follow the beliefs in their head rather than the desires of their heart, I have always remained quite the opposite.

For as long as I can remember I have been the girl who has relentlessly followed her heart, regardless of the circumstance and for the most part, the outcome has remained in my favour. This time around however, things appear to be entirely different.

I suppose you could say that ironically enough, life has thrown me the perfect curve ball and given that they are an obvious weakness of mine, not only am I currently struggling to read the curve, but I am struggling to remain patient.

Compliments of a few rather large life lessons, I am beginning to think that perhaps in this instance my head truly does know best and for the sake of the bigger picture, perhaps temporarily disregarding the desires of my heart will reap bigger rewards than that of the alternative. Although as I am sure you are already aware, theory and practice are two very, very different things; yet another little life lesson which coincidentally enough, I am only just beginning to learn.

To put it simply, trying to explain a logical decision of that magnitude to an already fragile heart is proving to be slightly difficult to say the least and attempting to embrace the process is not always as easy as it may first seem.

At the end of the day, how do you choose to follow the path which you believe to be the most logical, when matters of the heart constantly defy all logic?

How do you put aside the strongest of emotions and continue to move forward, simply because the distant yet convincing voice inside your head tells you to do so?

How do you attempt to trust your instincts when in doing just that, you are consequently contradicting everything you have ever known?

How do you try and figure out just what it is that you actually want in this wild and crazy world when even your deepest desires appear to have ravelled themselves into an oversized ball of confusion, changing almost as rapidly as the numbers on the clock?

The answer; you don’t figure it all out or at least not in the beginning. You simply do your best to embrace the roller coaster and attempt to sort through that big ball of confusion, one varying possibility at a time; hoping that at some point, whilst figuring out just what it is that you don’t want, you eventually begin to realise just what it is that you do want.

After all at the end of the day, when it comes to matters of the heart we never really have quite as much control as we may choose to believe and despite our very best efforts, some things in this world are completely out of our control and ironically enough, I believe that love and the way in which it finds us, is one of those very things.

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Never in a million years, or so I once thought.

As you are all well aware, for the longest time I have believed that the defining moment would be when I finally stepped back out there on that diamond proudly wearing the number thirteen, dressed from head to toe in the beautiful colours of maroon and white. However after the weekend that has just passed, it would seem that perhaps my original assumptions were slightly off.

Never in a million years would I ever have considered the possibility, that riding a mechanical bull would be seen as somewhat ‘crossing the finish line’ in my long road to recovery and yet ironically enough, here I am, wondering how I ever could have imagined this moment to play out differently.

Needless to say; after a wonderful night filled with smiles, laughter, dance-offs and Taylor Swift sing-a-longs, finding the courage to spontaneously ride a bull somewhere in between was certainly the sprinkles on top of an already perfect cupcake and having the pleasure of sharing that moment with countless favourites, is something that I will forever cherish.

Not only did I spend the entire night smiling until my cheeks hurt, laughing until my eyes watered and dancing up a storm until I was somewhat unable to breathe, but each and every time that I crazily jumped on that bull I did so without the slightest hesitation and even that simple factor alone was enough to change my entire world.

So while I may well have spent the rest of the week paying for the consequences of my rather courageous actions, regardless of the temporary pain that was caused by my obviously limited cowgirl experience, the overwhelming joy of finally feeling alive again in a way that I had long forgotten, was without a doubt worth every single one of those ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ bull rides.

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A perfectly beating heart.

I think it would be safe to say that instinctively speaking, our natural reaction upon realising that something is broken, be it even ever so slightly, it to immediately try and fix it. Just how we go about fixing it however can often be the hardest part of all and given that like most difficulties in life, there is no step by step instruction manual to help guide us through, perhaps the best that we can hope for is the strength to handle the situation gracefully.

Take a perfectly beating heart for example; how exactly does one fix a broken heart once the familiar rhythm of love has long lost it’s melody?

The answer, well I suppose that would depend entirely on our perspective.

Some would suggest to simply forget the past by drowning out the old rhythm with a whole new melody, almost as though the first had never happened. I however, believe wholeheartedly that regardless of it’s depth, love can never truly be forgotten and so in eagerly trying to do so, we are merely setting ourselves up for failure.

I believe that in many aspects, love is similar to that of an old favourite song; while we may tend to forget a few lyrics over time, we never quite lose the memories that go alongside the melody and nor should we.

Regardless of the circumstances, I believe that the melody of love was designed to be appreciated, not discarded and the rhythm was created to be remembered, not buried and while the pain may well never fully disappear, eventually it will begin to ease and eventually the tears will be replaced with smiles. Bittersweet smiles at times no doubt, but smiles nonetheless.

I believe that where love is concerned, nothing can ever remain broken forever. All we ever really need is a little courage to face each day, a little strength to continue moving forward and more than likely, a little more time to heal.

A little more time to breathe.

A little more time to cry.

A little more time to reflect.

A little more time to find our feet.

A little more time to find the courage to fall into our own rhythm again.

A little more time to rediscover our own melody and fall in love with a sound that this time around, is uniquely our own.

A little more time to remember what it feels like to be complete again, without constantly searching for that missing piece of the puzzle.

A little more time to realise that a love lost does not always mean a mistake made, but rather a lesson learned.

A little more time to appreciate the value of such a lesson.

A little more time to finally realise that if it were a boy who broke it in the first place, then perhaps constantly searching for another boy to fix it is really only a temporary solution to a never ending problem.

A little more time to realise that the cure for a broken heart is not to be found in loving another, but can be found in learning to truly love ourselves.

A little more time to realise that being alone does not necessarily mean you are lonely and that being broken in no way leaves you unfixable.

A little more time to realise that while some things break unexpectedly and are never quite the same, other things break in a way that allow them to become stronger and although we cannot always control the way in which something breaks, perhaps we can control how strongly it is placed back together.

In a world so fixated on things progressing quickly, when it comes to matters of love, perhaps we have it wrong. Perhaps as far as our hearts are concerned, a little faith and a little time is all we ever really need.

Don’t be fooled though, even with time on our side chances are it won’t be easy. However with a little trust and a little patience, eventually our heart will have the strength to begin beating again entirely on it’s own and the broken pieces that we were once so sure would never fully heal, will simply be a distant memory of yet another invaluable lesson in this crazy little thing called life.

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