IF I COULD be any Disney character right now, I would be Sleeping Beauty.
Because I feel like I need at least 100 years of sleep after the two weeks I’ve had.
Moving house, eight theatre performances in six days, having family visit while still working, and then boarding a flight to Brisbane to attend my final Our Watch Fellowship retreat will do that to you.
It has been a whirlwind of emotions — from the euphoria of starring in my first lead role and excitement of having my sisters and parents here to the stress and emotional upheaval of moving house.
Leading to a major case of sleep deprivation and exhaustion.
My first day back at work after the show, moving house and saying goodbye to my parents started hopeful enough — but within half-an-hour I was a sobbing, blubbering mess after my head almost hit the keyboard.
I spent the next 12 hours in a dreamless, zombie-like slumber.
I thought moving house would be a good distraction after The Addams Family finished — therefore avoiding the dreaded post-show depression.
And it did for a while — when I actually got to unpacking instead of falling asleep half way through a box.
And when I thought I was almost through, I remembered I had filled the shed with at least another dozen or so boxes whose contents had no real place to go.
Moving into a unit means I’ve basically halved my living space, so where am I going to put all my stuff?
Being a travel buff, I have collected a lot of souvenirs and trinkets from around the world.
I had plans to start scrapbooking and ‘‘turn them into an around-the-world collage’’ but life got in the way and that never happened.
So sadly all my treasures from Paris, Rome, New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles just to name a few are just sitting in a box collecting dust.
And then I have all my photo albums (you know, from the days when you actually printed your images), family heirlooms, baby keepsakes and school memorabilia. I mean, I can’t get rid of those right?
When I’m 80 (if I make it that far), I want to be able to look back and remember there was a time I was young and wrinkle-free.
Plus, by the time I’m 80 I will most likely have dementia and therefore forgotten about my achievements at the North Queensland Games. Thankfully, my mum kept my old judo and softball uniforms, so they can’t go in the trash either.
And who doesn’t keep their school yearbooks? They’ve got as much gold in them as diaries do.
But again, there is just not enough room in the house to put all these memories. I just figure they will keep until I buy that three-storey mansion.
However, something that has come with me everywhere I go — about 10 homes in 20 years — is my lifesize cut-out of Marilyn Monroe.
From Mount Isa in north-west Queensland to Echuca, to Moama and back to Echuca, the well-travelled antd slightly worn Marilyn now holds pride of place in my living room.
Many have tried to buy her, steal her and get rid of her. But she is a survivor. Like me in a way, I guess.
She reminds me of where I have come from, and no matter how broken and battered she becomes, her smile remains intact.