Moving forward by starting again

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on". ~Carl Sandburg

Little Tyke’s absence is turning out to be quite an exercise. Not unexpected but it dawned on me last night that, in the 5 weeks that he’s been gone, I’ve also taken quite a journey of my own. I’ve been through a number of phases that until recently I had just thought of as the natural female emotions that would ensue in a situation such as this. The inevitable surface ripples of the displacement caused by his departure.

So far, I’ve been able to identify two phases for sure and I’m pretty damn certain of a third on the horizon:

Guilty positivity: I’m tempted to divide this into two. Although these ‘sub-phases’ happened in very quick succession, almost blending into each other; they were distinctly different. Different enough, for me to just go with my gut on this and separate the two. Why not?

a) Near-indifference: I say ‘near’ because I was ACUTELY aware of the fact that my son was going to be away from me, from his home, for the longest time ever and that that was a HUGE deal. It made me extremely nervous and I had a sinking suspicion that sadness would, inevitably, not be too far behind. Nonetheless, I was a bit numb to it and secretly glad for the breather.

b) Renewal: The ‘glad for the breather’ part of me morphed into a sense of expectancy and anticipation of all the things I could accomplish without Little Tyke here. Not in a bad way, but kinda like “here’s an opportunity to dedicate myself to putting in the work that’ll build him a Mummy he can be proud of”.

The two affected each other because I, a) had it in my mind that I should be feeling something that I wasn’t, and b) when I did finally start feeling something it wasn’t what (I thought) I should have been feeling. Hence the ‘guilt’.

Definite negativity: This week I was really on the business end of this one; close to being expelled from it and shot out, only to land in an exhausted heap - far, far away from where I started. The past 6days have been a ‘snot en trane’ [snot and tears] fest of note! I feel completely lifeless without him. It was like I finally realised that I had been lying to myself for a month. How could I have ever thought that life would be possible, let alone enjoyable, without him. It all started gradually enough - a small pang, then a general malaise. It just grew and grew until, at the worst of it, I was crying myself to sleep. I missed him unendurably and nothing, noone, could make it better. Fullstop! – Or at least until today.

Thoughtful positivity: This one is really all just riding on a hunch. It hasn’t gotten there yet, but I really feel like it’s going to be the next step. It may even turn out to be a part (a) for this phase *fingers crossed*. I think the very contemplative nature of this one just might push me into “Definite positivity” – which would be (b).

My last post was all about what being a mother has done for me. And like I said, the positives far outweigh the negatives. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about today… ‘thinking’ being the operative word. I wasn’t clouded by my heavy emotion on this one. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do now that I really truly realize how much I love this little person.

Recent events in the news like the death of little Vanilla Nurse, the Caster Semenya issue, Derrion Alberts in the US, and the Roman Polanski debacle have all had me thinking of how I’d feel if it was my child on the receiving end of all these events. I’ve been thinking about how vulnerable he really is and the fact that, with the world being what it is today, me and Hubby are all that the little guy has really got.

It all got me thinking that unlike Vanilla, Caster, Derrion and Mr Polanski’s victim, Little Tyke hasn’t yet lost anything. He may be far away from me, but when he returns he will still be intact and we’ll be here to take him into our arms and be blessed enough to go on to help him navigate his way through the world. It’s been quite a revelation and so my perspective is slowly beginning to shift. Of course, I still want him back – like today – but I also recognize now so many things that make me look at this time apart as a way to bring me something to look forward to.

I’m looking forward to holding my little boy with a new tightness and looking at him with fresh eyes. A true and resonant acknowledgement of my role in his life and his role in mine. I’m looking forward to using everything that I’ve learned during this time about being a mother to be a better one for him.

When 'what if' is

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh

The truth is, Little Tyke was not planned. Motherhood for me has been a tough road - very rewarding, but tough all the same. There were times that I even dared to wonder what my life would have been like if he wasn't around.

For the longest time after he was born, I felt completely and totally overwhelmed and a little oppressed. I felt as if my life had been taken away. Hubby and I had only been together as a couple for two years when he was born. It sounds like long enough but, we got married when I was three months pregnant - which means that, at a time when most people are only just 'coming down' from the euphoria of their honeymoon, I was a bloated, swollen-feet-having, back-pain-suffering grinch.

And then after he was born, my milk just wouldn't come in. In-between the cracked nipples and guilt over not being able to perform the most basic of motherly duties - I had to go on antibiotics because my ceasar wound became infected. I got thrush (and passed it on to Little Tyke) and so had to stop breastfeeding: after that cleared up, he refused to take the breast anymore. Then there were the endless months of colic...! Oh god, the colic. That almost broke me.

At the same time, I was trying so hard to run the new home that I had created with my new husband. But I was just so tired all the time. I still wanted to be the desirable (and agile) little nymph that I had been while we were dating. But I just couldn't lose that baby weight and I seemed to gain even more as the months wore on. I missed the nights out that we used to have - the partying and the romantic dinners. But we had noone to watch Little Tyke while we were out.

I felt like a shadow of my former self and it was at those times that I would ask myself what life would be like without him. I would never admit that to anyone and even when the thought reared its ugly head in my own mind, I would quickly shove it back down and chastise myself for hours. It wasn't natural to think that way and I was an apalling mother for even entertaining such a thought - in any form. But the fact was my life had changed irrevocably and I felt that it hadn't really been by choice, so inevitably when the hard moments came so did those ugly thoughts.

Fast forward to today. Little Tyke has been in Z for over a month now and I'm finally faced with the reality of my once fanciful (albeit shameful) 'what if's. The truthful answer is that life would be hollow. There would be no daily reminder of my alive-ness. Nothing to keep me connected to life itself.

Being a parent gives you a VIP pass to life's backstage. You literally witness and experience its very beginning. The moment that you realise that this brand new little person is about to embark on a journey that you have already travelled and have taken for granted all your life, a sense of purpose immediately starts searching for expression within you.

Suddenly the ills of the world, the ills within yourself become a permanent part of your peripheral vision. You are consciously, subconsciously and sometimes unconsciously aware of the fact that you are responsible for guiding this little life through all the perils that you have faced and (more terrifying) the perils that are yet to come and that you know nothing about.

You find new joy in the seemingly mundane things that now cause the face of your child to light up ... coming home, giving hugs, taking a drive, eating ice-lollies. You suddenly realise that you have a reason to smile every single day. And for me, that is the one that blows my mind. A reason to smile every single day? Even when you don't particularly feel like you have anything to smile about, all it takes is a funny word or a wierd laugh from your little one and suddenly a smile will creep up on you, simultaneously warming your heart as it spreads across your face.

There are facets and dimensions of life that become clear to you when you have a child. You begin to live outside of yourself and, if you're like me, it is for the very first time in your life. I've said before that I reckon I'm pretty selfish, but when Little Tyke needed to eat or had to have a nappy change it was him that came first - every time and without even a second thought. It may seem elementary but it's really not. It's a truly remarkable feat of nature; to give and give and give without an expectation of even an iota of reciprocation.

He became my joy, my purpose, my reason, my life.

And now, I miss him unendurably. Every phone call is guaranteed to end in tears (my tears). I miss hearing him say "Mummy". I am even willing to hear it called out repeatedly for up to 10minutes at a time (like he loves to do) if it means I'll have my baby back with me.

What is life like without him? It's really not life at all - not my life anyway. As much as I had wanted to look at this time apart as an opportunity to catch up on all sorts of stuff - including catching up with a me a thought I had lost, I realise now that a life without my son is impossible. This is my life now and how much more rich and fulfilling a life it is. I have gained more from being a mother than anything I could ever have thought I had lost.

Maybe I needed this time to really think about it and even this blog to try and put it into words. In a way, I'm kind of glad I did.

So... can I get my baby back now?

HELP...!

Most people would rather be certain they're miserable, than risk being happy. ~Robert Anthony

Last week, I spent that last few days before the weekend in a state of mild depression. Pyjamas all day, weepy and defeated. I told Hubby that it was because I missed Little Tyke so much, and that was a big part of it but I also feel there was something more to it.

Since my last blog post I've been excruciatingly conflicted - trying to reconcile knowing that I've been F*&king up with the powerful urge to retreat into my comfort zone in order to escape that very fact (and thereby perpetuating the vicious cycle). I spoke last time about power and responsibility. What has struck me (and frankly scares me to death) is the fact that - contrary to what I had been telling myself - the power has always been there, and all this time I have essentially using my power for evil and not for good.

I had a pretty decent weekend and this Monday morning finds me particularly chirpy and hopeful, but I can't help reminding myself that that's how I started out last week... and the week before, and the one before that. Sometimes I wonder if I truly am a lost cause. How can I know all of these things cognitively and still not be able to act on them in such a way that I feel that I've made even the slight bit of progress in living a satisfying life?

I've been able to fix myself before. I managed to get over the biggest heartbreak of my life, to extricate myself from the worst emotional abuse I've ever experienced, even succeeded at quitting smoking after 9 years, and losing 10kgs in a couple of months! And how did I do it? I took it one day at a time. Everyday, I was able to examine my every thought and action and decide whether it was the right thing for me - if it was going to get me to where I wanted to be. So how come I can't seem to be able to do that now... even though I know for sure that it's the only way?!

Then I realise that what sets those hurdles apart from what I'm going through now is that I wanted to do it. I had the will, because I came to not only realise cognitively, but also believe in my soul that living with those situations was doing me much more harm than good. But now, the comfort of not living up to expectations (even if they're my own), of letting life just 'happen' to me, of clinging to my fear. That comfort is just too enticing. Could it be that I don't want to get better, to BE better?

Startling, I know. But it's the only theory that makes sense. Even back when I was still working towards the victories I just mentioned, my thinking behind it was not nearly as deep and considered as it is now. I just knew I had to do it, and keep at it til I finally got there. Why then can I not replicate the same sort of triumph in my life now? Now that I have the added advantage of all my years of experience and introspection. Why?

I hate admiting my shortcomings, especially admitting them to myself. It hurts to know how I've been sabotaging myself and continue to do so over and over. The 'whys' of the situation are important but I don't know if right now I really have the emotional capital or perspective to figure them out. Last week's depression scared me and made me realise that maybe therapy wouldn't be a bad idea. If I had the money I would have booked a session right then and there.

There are some things that exist deep down that no amount of self-help will... well... help me with. I think that in the past I may have prided myself on the fact that I'm a deep thinker, a student of the human psyche. But more and more I'm feeling that I can't keep trying to do it on my own. I'm in no way admitting defeat, but I am admitting that I need help.

It's a tough road and I see now that I've been making light of the gravity of the task of achieving real happiness. Even as I type this, I'm tempted to take it all back. I feel so disappointed in my weakness. I keep wanting to say, "I'm sure I could get it right. I just need another Monday, another new month, another new year". But I don't have the luxury of that. My life's gotta change. It's gotta be soon and it's gotta be for good!

However, I remain hopeful. I spent the weekend catching up on loads of painfully neglected work and was up early this morning finalising that process. On that front, I'm pretty much on an even footing - for the first time in months! I've made some progress putting a plan together for the launch of Hubby and Big Bro's debut album - which I'm very excited about, I might add. Unfortunately, I only got one workout in last week and haven't nearly been eating right but everyday's as a new opportunity to do things differently. I've just got to keep taking the opportunities as they come.

The point is, I can't carry on being so hard on myself. And as much as it feels like a cop-out, I must admit that there are some things that I just don't know how to fix and, until I do, I need to just do what I can with the knowledge I've got. Because, in the immortal words of Maya Angelou, "When you know better, you do better". At least I have now learned that I need to know more about myself before I can be a better version of myself.

Update [May 2010]: I think I've found some of that help I needed. It was here all along!

Image: (c) Optiknerve-gr

Power

Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me to death. ~Betty Bender

As difficult as it is, Little Tyke's absence has represented an opportunity for me to achieve, chase, or - at the very least - set some goals. One of the many opportunities represented by Little Tyke being in Z is the chance for Hubby and I to 're-connect', another is for me to spend more time on myself: nurturing, feeding & taking care of the most vital parts of me, yet another is to get my career in order.

So, in what I suppose can be seen as an inevitable event, what began as the simple realisation of a new-found freedom, has become an ever-increasingly over-bearing 'to-do' list. So many goals, so much internal pressure to live up to it all. It's almost as if I've got some point to prove.

...and if I do have something to prove, what is it and who do I need to prove it to?

I had an epiphany yesterday - I came to realise that every second of my life is under my complete and total control. Now, I've watched enough episodes of Oprah and read enough self-help books to know that that little bit of information is nothing new. However, for me in that instant, it was the first time in YEARS that I have had that thought and processed it deeply enough for it to actually stike a tangible cord within me, "I decide. I choose".

I was in tears. I had a total breakdown, brought on by the realisation that for so many years... nay, too many years, I had been feeling that I had no control... none. Feeling that stuff just kept happening to me. A victim? Dare I admit it? But, I had to admit it - and that moment of truth reduced me to tears. Hadn't I always believed that victims chose to be victims? Oh, the shock of realising that I had made that choice!

Obviously, 'what to do about it' becomes the next burning question, and the answer is down to a very simple process of thought. "You are in control, right?" Right. "So you can make your life what you want it to be, therefore all you have to do is do what it takes to make it so.

"But how?", a sceptical voice enquires. "Well, excercise your power down to its furthest reach. You control every second of your life, right?" Right. "So, in every second of your life, decide whether whatever you are doing, going to do, or are thinking of doing is going to get your life to be what you want it to be".

At that point, I just burst into audible sobs. I knew how to do that. That's why the initial realisation was so gutting. At every moment I've known that I've been working at cross-purposes with my self. It was nothing more than self-sabotage.

"But you're STILL in control. Even as you sob, you can choose - after you've dried the tears, blown your nose and thrown away the tissues - to leave it there or to pursue the solution. You can cry about how you've screwed up or you can try to figure out why you screwed up and and how to fix it. Take the power you have gained in admitting to a problem and multiply it, by directing it towards working out a way to make it right".

Wow! I can actually do that, can't I? Right here and right now. I don't need to wait until I've reached my lowest point; until I'm a shell of myself and I feel that life has nothing left to offer me. I can make a decision right now. It's not too late to reclaim control.

Then the tears came even harder. But this time they came from outside of me. It was the fear. The fear that has ruled me with such fierce tenacity for so long. It suddenly appeared from the shadows, like a fur-coat-wearing, feather-hat-donning pimp in a dark alley. I could feel my figurative hand instinctively rise to its metaphorical cheek in a double-act of defense and acceptance of the inevitable. I knew this fear was my master and it had just walked in on my conversation about the underground railroad with another rabble-rousing slave. In that instant I knew I had seen a familiar light, but the gravity and difficulty of getting to it, suddenly became so intensly clear to me - clearer that it had been in a while.

I stood there, staring it in the face. Confronted by my fear in its full and supremely intimidating glory. I wish I could describe the epic showdown that was going on in my mind at that moment... but long story short - I flinched, and by the end of it I was on some "Yessir, Masser. Don't worry, this uppity nigg*r was just leaving". I sat there. Spent. Eyes flitting back and forth, as I pantingly tried to figure out what had just happened. I saw my fear - looked it in the eye and as much I wanted to erase its image from my mind, I had to force myself to consider how powerful it honestly was. Scary, we can agree on; but if I were ever to defy it, what's the absolute worse that could actually happen?

I left that particular 'train' of thought right there, though (baby steps, I guess). So at this point all that I know for sure is that I AM in control. The consequences of actually excercising that power are a different matter. The ugly truths that I'll have to accept, the fears I'll have to overcome... all of that is a bridge that can only be crossed when I come to it. In a way, deep down inside I know that this little realisation is not for nothing. I do have a point to prove, and who do I have to prove it to? That very same fear.

It all just brings me back to my earliest mission... back to just getting on with life. Just doing what I have to do. I can't help feeling that I'm just spinning my tyres, though. I've been here before - epiphanies and deep introspection: it's what I do best. Action, though - that's what seems to be so elusive.

I'm thinking that the best way to deal with it is to take it one second at a time... "Excercise your power down to its furthest reach.... (second by second) In every second of your life, decide whether whatever you are doing, going to do, or are thinking of doing is going to get your life to be what you want it to be".

With great power, comes great responsibility, they say. My first task is to exercise the power. It remains to be seen whether I can handle the responsibility.

Guess who's coming to visit

Mother-in-law: a woman who destroys her daughter-in-law's peace of mind by giving her a piece of hers. ~Author Unknown

It's been a while and there's been quite a bit going on recently - most notably, a 2-week visit by my mother-in-law (MIL) and the departure of Little Tyke to visit her in Zambia 3 days ago.

Having MIL here was supremely challenging! She's got very set views on things... all things - from being a wife, to feeding a child, to washing dishes. She really is a lovely lady - but quite overbearing (and a little crazy). I've always been intimidated by her, probably stemming from Hubby's earliest descriptions of her as 'gangsta', even long before I ever met her.

The whole time she was visiting, I felt like every minute element of my life was under scrutiny. I found myself wondering how much of the friction I felt was due to my own insecurities and how much was simply down to cultural and background differences.

Let's start with the background theory. I was raised by a single mother: a career woman and product of the 70's - a semi-feminist and fiercly independant individual. MIL on the other hand has lived a pretty traditional life - married for over 30 years, essentially a stay-at-home mom - strong on family values and very religious.

So, obviously I am not in any way used to the kind of interest (read 'interference') that to MIL is simply a mother's duty. From the moment I left the house (and even before then), my mother always treated me as a grown-ass woman. How I ran my house was my business. MIL, on the other hand doesn't have those boundaries.

Firstly, her insistance on me regarding and treating her as my 'other mother' makes me very uncomfortable. I felt like it was being forced on me - and what does that mean, anyway?! My first intinct was to resist. I have a mother - and for the longest time, she was all that I really had. I just didn't grow up like that. I have witnessed many a family member take advantage of my mother, and the feelings of abandonment towards my own father did nothing to engender a strong sense of trust or dependance on family. Also having grown up far away from my extended family, I just don't have that in me. To me, people are people and need to be embraced or held at a distance on that basis only - not by virtue of familial ties... Right or wrong, that's just what I grew to believe over time.

Then, there are my insecurities. Well, where to start...? I have an encyclopedia of them - categorised, ordered chronologically and neatly indexed. There's my inability to handle criticism, my guilt over my mothering skills, my weight issues, my intrinsic passive-aggression - among many many others. So, one can imagine that when told I should be waking up at 4am to make a cooked packed lunch for Hubby; or when the food I cook for my son is left to rot in the fridge & replaced by a meal cooked by his granny; or when I'm told that I "look better in what you're wearing today. I don't know what those other clothes you wear are" - self esteem is knocked to an all-time low.

And it was relentless. I just didn't know how to handle her... I had to balance being respectful with an urge to lash out; and fight back tears while trying to convincingly laugh at jokes that I found deeply hurtful. All day, every day. Being called away from the office because we're out of tomatoes (but what about the entire meal that I had left in the fridge for today's lunch?). Being asked if I don't mind removing my stuff from the laundry basket so that she could iron her son and grandson's clothes!

I tried to look to Hubby for comfort. I even had a talk with him before she arrived, sensitising him to the fact that she made me extremely uncomfortable and pleading with him to try and back me up in things, to help draw those boundaries. But, of course he doesn't see things the way I do see and plenty of what went on happened while he was away. Even when I recounted some of the toughest moments to him, I could see I was treading a delicate line. She is, after all, his mother and - putting myself in his shoes - I could see how a lot of it could be misconstrued as a dislike of her.

To be brutally honest, at the end of it I started to feel like a big baby - oversensitive and too quick to resort to tears. How could I allow myself to feel undermined and so excrutiatingly uncomfortable in my own home. Should I not have just put my foot down? And in fairness, on the last day I did put my foot down. She just laughed at me... and again I was reduced to a quivering ball of tears. Sensitivity is not the lady's strong point, I must say.

But at the end of the day, I got thru it. I have yet to really work this one out in my own head and I'm really quite relieved that she lives in Zambia. In any other situation, I would have just decided 'this is not my type of person' and treated her accordingly - cordial, but distant. Of course you can't treat an MIL like that, but at least not having to deal with her often saves me the pain of trying to work out an alternative way of coping.

What I'm now grappling with is Little Tyke's departure. He left with his granny on Sunday and I haven't spoken to him since. That, however is a whole other story and whole other blog post.

Have you got your sandwiches ready?

Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him. ~Albert Schweitzer

Saturday, 18 July 2009 was the inaugural Mandela Day. The cause was celebrated all over the world and the point was to 'make an imprint' by dedicating 67 minutes of your time on that day to basically spreading good vibes by helping someone or making some sort of contribution to making the world better. The time would be spent in honour of continuing Nelson Mandela's legacy and remembering the 67 years he spent as a leader, trying to make his country and the world a better place.

I've spoken a few times here about giving of myself and how much I felt I should do that more. When I heard about Mandela Day, I thought this was my opportunity to stop talking about it and BE about it. My idea: to drive the streets of my city with packed sandwiches and give them out to needy people as we came across them. Pretty simple and straight-forward, right?

Anyway, Hubby and I started off at about 12:20 or so and the 67 minutes started ticking. I had it all worked out in my head... we'd get to the city centre and at every traffic light there'd be the usual three or four guys either begging or selling stuff; we'd stop at the red lights and hand out our lovely festively-packaged sandwiches with smiles and salutations all round while we gleefuly shouted "Happy Mandela Day!" as we pulled off, hooting... lol.

But it was not to be...

The experience of Mandela Day was a really big eye-opener for me. I am still amazed at how we agonized about the selection of our beneficiaries. As soon as we got into town, we realised we had no system or real plan. And a lot of questions that we were only now asking ourselves, 20 minutes into our 67!

Would we give to beggars? We decided that maybe we shouldn't because they really weren't desrving. Everyone knows they make a lot of money for doing nothing but standing around looking disshevelled and miserable. But, 30minutes in, we hadn't seen anyone that was deserving so we pulled up at a red light and sure enough, there was this kid... begging.

He couldn't have been older than about 16 or 17, so we decided 'why not' and gave him a sarmy. "Happy Mandela Day!", we said smiling. The kid nodded his head and walked on to the next car... no smile. no thank you. nothing! We were like WTF?!? and I looked back at him in the rearview mirror. The sandwich was gone! I have no idea were he put it, but he stood there, between the two lanes of cars, empty-handed and making sickly little gestures between his stomach and his mouth as he emplored our fellow motorists to pity him with some food.

WoW! I was stunned, but I had to think about what I really expected to happen. Well, I guess I have already answered that question quite early in this blog post. Could I really describe what 'needy' means? I mean, just because that kid was on the hustle and he needed to keep up the appearance of sheer destitution to get any more food, did that mean he didn't need the sandwich? Or maybe he needed something else that I could have given.

That question still forming in my subconscious, we moved into the next neighbourhood. (Now, the South African socio-economic dynamic is so definitive, vivid and palpable that I hope anyone unfamiliar to the country will still follow). Picture an old white neighbourhood with a small mall-type centre and across the road a smaller centre with the old Portuguese-owned take away, post office, habedashery, dry cleaner, little Italian restaurant, etc... Of course, at lunchtime on a Saturday, there is bound to be an assortment of black people sitting scattered across the tiny lawns and their railings... on break from work or looking for work.

We pull into the parking lot and think this is the perfect spot, there's gotta be someone needy here who's not a beggar. And that, my friends, I learned is one of the hardest things you could ever try and do! How do you assess 'need' by just looking at someone? There were so many people there... big mama's talking loud with their friends, domestics with the white babies they've been charged with caring for for the day, men in blue overalls asleep in the sun, the shopping centre security guard, the car guards... And every single one of them, I was sure, needed someone to perform some random act of kindness for them at that moment, but all I had was sandwiches.

All I had was sandwiches.

We drove around, and up & down, and debated... Picking people out and then gultily picking reasons why they weren't the ones. "These sandwiches are pretty rudimentary, so we've gotta give it to someone who won't judge - who's really just, like, starving"; "He looks pretty well-dressed and clean. Won't we come across as arrogant and as thinking that we're better than him?"; "He's obviously got a job, I'm sure he's got money for lunch"; "What if they think we're trying to poison them"; "I can't do it. You go. If you go, they'll be more receptive"; "But I feel so awkward... no, no, I can't. You go".

And so it went until we had been sitting in the parking lot of another centre in the area for about 10 minutes, watching the man who was sweeping up leaves on the sidewalks (not to mention having changed parking spots twice while doing it! lol). Sounds utterly pathetic, I know. Anyway, Hubby just decided to go for it and after a couple of "What do I say"s and "what if"s, he took the sandwich and went off to give it to the guy. Apparently he just gave him a funny look and then thanked him. He watched Hubby walk away for a while before he finally took a sniff of the sandwhich, peeked inside it, and then took a bite.

The first one was the hardest (the beggar doesn't count). We (or I, rather) quickly eased into it and went on to give away all our sandwiches, but one. I changed tack by losing "Happy Mandela Day" and rather explaining what Mandela Day was and why I was giving sandwiches, which elicited much better reactions. The whole experience was thoroughly rewarding. I'm still all about LOVE and I'm so going to make a habit of giving. But, it was also a lesson...

I had this idea that our 67 minutes was going to be a walk-over, but it turned out to be (a mostly agonising) 2 and half hours! I learned that everyone has a story. I learned that all it takes is a little time to get to know someone's story & you would be surprised to learn how much you really can give with what little you've got. We had it in our heads that 'needy' people are out there, like this other sub-species of human with easily identifiable markings. But we are needy too - all of us. Whether you have a roof over your head or live under a newspaper. We all need something, that someone close-by can give. We all need something that someone else has a lot of, like love or a helping hand, or time, or friendship, or even sandwiches. Yes, even sandwiches.

Like the one guy we gave a sandwich to by the train station. He was clearly employed in some sort of hard-labour, but he hadn't eaten all day and he needed that sandwich. Even though all I had was a sandwich... the lesson was, all he needed was a sandwich!

And as we drove off and I saw him bow his head in a silent prayer, it all started to hit home. Of all the sandwiches we gave that day, I only saw that reaction once - but just that one guy... just that one sandwich made it all worth it.

A lesson in love... what I've learned from MJ's life and death

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence. ~Eric Fromm

I've been trawling the web a bit and there's so much on about Michael Jackson's memorial yesterday. I got a sense that a lot of the (online) media was just looking for any little tiny bit of controversy to attach to it all, and I found myself thinking, "Damn! Even in death, they just won't give the man any peace!"


I think for the most part it failed though (at least for right now, in the immediate aftermath). I stood in front of my TV last night, as I caught the last 30 min of the event and I felt something that surprised me. I remember the tears welling up, the moment they started singing "Heal the World". I was stunned by the way that entire crowd of 50 000 people stood there in reverent silence - albeit for just a second - after the song came to an end. I could feel the hearts of literally millions of people around the world as we collectively said goodbye to the greatest entertainer of all time.


MJ has touched so many. I am not ashamed to admit that I am one of the many, but I am ashamed to accept that I didn't even realise until last night, just how much he had touched me personally and the lessons that he has really left behind for the entire world. How sad. How truly and deeply sad the story of MJ has been. This man... adored by millions, villified by many and persecuted by a few. After all is said and done, it's clear that all he ever wanted to be about was love. In that instant after the song had been sung - in those few moments of soul-amplifying silence - it all became so clear. And in that instant, that's ALL it was about. For a few beautiful moments, love was all any of us could feel.


"There will never be another Michael Jackson". I heard that phrase so many times during the course of the memorial, and while I believe it to be true, I don't want it to be so. We need another Michael Jackson in the world. We need another something to unite us, and to bring us all in unison - even for a few moments - back to that state of pure and radiating love, all across the world.


As the human race, we are heading further and further away from each other. As the world gets smaller and smaller, so our outlook becomes narrower. We withdraw deeper and deeper into ourselves. Not looking beyond our own noses, or caring beyond our own issues.


MJ had been trying to tell us for a minute that we've had it all wrong, so now that he's gone will we finally listen? I was moved so deeply yesterday. I felt inspired to do more, to be more, to give more. A valuable lesson, in light of the recent goings on in my life.


The guy has done more than touch a generation, he has touched a consciousness. Anyone who was as shaken as I was by his passing will know exactly what I mean. Once the most famous man in the world, it was his fame that was responsible for the simultaneous love, hate and judgement that has been showered upon him through the years. Did he die an unhappy man, a lonely man? I think about that and I wonder... if that's the case, then shame on the world for bringing that upon him when he has given us so much. Shame on us, when all he ever wanted to be about was love. When all he ever wanted from us was love.


Well, MJ - I hope you finally felt it. Even if it was just for an instant... some random, yet profound moment during yesterday's memorial. I hope you finally felt that love you gave reflected back to you.

R.I.P.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt III)

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand. ~Emily Kimbrough

So now, after everything and having re-read pt 1 and pt 2 again, I realise that I'm facing the next hurdle in my journey. I have to now learn to draw the line between doing me and doing others wrong.

Things with Hubby are, well... interesting. Although the whole thing hasn't exactly been resolved, we have spoken a bit and I think he's opened up as much as he's going to on the matter. Now, it's time for me to decide my reaction. I'm tempted to be on some, "F*ck it!", but that's not me. I love him and value our marriage way too much. Plus, I realise that we both have our frustrations and we both have things that we're trying to do and to achieve.

I actually feel really tired. The tension has taken a lot out of me, and I want it to be over with already. I need to decide what I want my life to look like and what I've got to do, what I'm prepared to do, to make it so. One thing I know for sure is that I want a life with Hubby in it and I want it to be a happy one... for both of us. I think I know what he needs from me and I guess I need to decide whether I'm ready to make the trade-off, because that's what it will require - some give and take. And as much as I hate to admit it, I've been taking much more than I've given recently.

I suppose I thought that by reclaiming me - sometimes at all costs - I was empowering myself. But which is the me that I was trying to reclaim? In fact, the answer lies in that very word... REclaim, take BACK. I've been trying to hold on to an unmarried, unobligated me, but the (sad) reality of it is things done changed, and they've changed for good! There's no going back, all that's left to do is to move forward.

The disappointment is undeniable. I feel somewhat like I've failed. I thought I had it right! In a way, I think I did. My intentions were honourable, but I just didn't DO it right. And that's my first big lesson on this path... no one is an island and while you must always do it FOR yourself, you can't do it BY yourself. I wanted so bad to be right, and for him to be the immature, over-reacting one. But there is no right and no wrong - there's just us. And in the immortal words of Dr Phil, I need to decide: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?".

Sigh*

It's good though. It's always good when you learn something, so that's what I'm choosing to take away from this... a lesson in life.

It sure 'nuff ain't easy.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt II)

God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me. ~Author Unknown

Yeah, so now I'm beginning to realise that I need to own me in the world. While focusing on me was a selfish indulgence that I really needed, I can't escape the fact that I still have a responsibility to my relationships with other people.

Perhaps I'm not really being fair on Hubby. We spoke about what happened over gmail chat last week and he said something to me that really took the wind out of my sails. "We're on different pages", he said.

Wow! Are we? Really? If I were to just be honest, I guess I'd have to admit that we actually are on different pages.

My journey has been a very personal one thus far and I've been completely unfocused on the effect that it was having on the people around me or even whether there has been any effect at all. If I try to put myself in Hubby's shoes, I can see how he'd be feeling... well... something. How could he not? I've been pretty much wrapped up in myself for the last few months - doing what I like, being with whom I want to be, going where I want to go. It probably seemed like a pretty sudden and possibly drastic change. I'll give him that.

But, at the same time, there's a part of me that finds that (if it's truly the case) to be a bit unfair. I mean, how long have I been doing just the opposite. Constantly hiding, cowering away in fear from anything that even remotely resembled independence?

Our dynamic at home is a little off-kilter, I guess. He works all the hours, but I make all the money (a little over-simplified, but a pretty neat nutshell). HOWEVER, I also do a whole lot of other stuff (in addition to my job) - I run the house, I raise the child, I pay the bills, I send the birthday cards & XMas cards & Fathers' Day & Mothers Day cards - for the both of us! I cook the meals (most of the time), I plan the anniversaries, I buy the groceries, I do the garden, I do the laundry... etc, etc, etc!

So, now I kinda feel like I deserve a little bit for me. I'm at home all day just about every day and spend 18 out of 24hrs with Little Tyke. He comes home late at night, extremely tired and prefers to spend weekends in bed. Lately, he's even been going to the office on Saturdays, so it's even worse now. He gets frustrated and I totally get that. But I've been frustrated - for almost 2 years now! And I didn't always used to be this way.

I was once care-free and happy-go-lucky. I used to work out and do my hair and my nails. I used to party and hang out with friends. But then I got married. In the beginning, I would stay at home, missing him for hours til he came back. Just imagine my disappointment time and again when he came home too tired to even talk! So, I hung around, doing stuf around the house - trying to build a home. And again, no reciprocation. I really let it get me down.

Then a few months ago, I started living again. So, I started having friends over on weekends... laughing, chatting and having fun. But it was without him, because he was still tired, still stressed... So yes, we are on different pages.

But now that we've established that, what do we do? That's what frustrated me most about the 2am office-run incident. To this day, more than a week later, I'm still like WTF!?!? It's still so up in the air, and I feel stuck. He still hasn't explained what happened.

Don't misunderstand. Our relationship is cool. We are close, very close again. But it feels kind of disingenious. Usually when we have an issue in our relationship, we bottle it up until we just about can't take it anymore then have a good, honest, heartfelt talk about it and everything gets sorted out. We both understand the situation and move forward knowing how to act in future. That's just our process.

But this time, this time... I don't know.

I'm left wondering if it was me. Has my journey of self-discovery made me insensitive? Am I missing clues that I would ordinarily have noticed instantaneously? Or is it him? Has my journey of self-discovery made him jealous?

I'm tired of pushing him to talk. I don't feel it in me anymore. That desperation that I once had to be the one to fix things, because I always believed it was my fault - I wasn't good enough, I didn't do the right thing - is just gone.

Shouldn't he take some responsibility for his own happiness by telling me WTF is going on?

I have half a mind to just leave it alone, but divorce is not on the cards for me. That's what happens when you let things fester in a marriage. So, what's the alternative? Do I keep pushing only to keep running into a brick wall? Or do I give him time in hopes that he'll finally open up? And if it's the latter, what do I do in the meantime. I have a strong suspicion that it's the changes in me that caused that change in him. So, do I go back to being a miserable, mousy home-body or do I just keep on as I have been and hope he gets on the bus eventually?

Argh! More questions. Just great!

Clearly, answers are few and far between at this point. Maybe I'll come back with part 3... but for now, I just need a drink!

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt I)

One of the good things that come of a true marriage is, that there is one face on which changes come without your seeing them; or rather there is one face which you can still see the same, through all the shadows which years have gathered upon it. ~George MacDonald

Well, I guess in all fairness, nobody said it would be easy. Nobody said growing up was a breeze, or that marriage was a walk in the park, nor that motherhood would be a piece of cake.

The past couple of months have seen a true change in me. I feel like my eyes are opened wider than they ever have been before; that I am seeing myself, the world... everything, in a way that I never have before. That change has allowed me to begin to recognise and acknowledge all sorts of things within me, which in turn has an effect on everything I do and my every reaction to every situation.

One of those 'situations' is my marriage or - to be specific - one particular incident this past weekend. Briefly, Hubby had made plans to go out on Saturday night as a sort of a trade-off for Sims (BFF) having taken me out the night before and me having asked him to baby-sit (simultaneously causing him to reschedule the plans he had already made for that night to Saturday night - HIS decision, made with the purest and most admirable of intentions... of that I'm sure. Plans, I might add, that I knew nothing about before asking).

Anyway, back to Saturday - Sims is over at the house after last night's jol, I invite the Usual Suspects [my crew of boys, and an assortment of good lady friends that I see a lil less often than the boys]. Hubby's plans fall through... "bummer, but at least he can still have a good time at home". At this point, the 'party' is already in full swing - everybody's having a bomb-ass time and I assumed Hubby was too.

Cut to midnight, one, two o'clock - I notice a progressive change in mood in Hubby. A couple of times, I go into the bedroom and he's there, head-in-hand, or laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I walk in, ask what's wrong. The first time I get told that there's nothing wrong. The second time, it's a little more serious. He's not feeling too good, but he's not sick or tired or feeling bad physicallly. "What can I do, Baby", I ask. Admittedly, the sounds of conversation and music in the other room was beckoning me, but I still cared about what Hubby was feeling. Really I did.

Anyway, I'm then told that there's not really anything I can do. He can't explain what's wrong or know how to fix it. I push a little bit more, but he's not willing to speak about it, so I leave it - I let him know I really care and I'm worried - but I leave it. Next moment, I'm back in the party - BTW, at this point the majority of people have left and it's just Sims, her man and her brother, and LB - my 'adopted' little brother (subject for another blog post). Anyway, I'm back and sitting with LB, jamming out to some hip-hop and Sims comes into the room, on some, "Your man is LEAVING, girl!".

Oh, just before that Hubby came in and took his laptop and some work files, then told me he'd see me later. Probably stupidly, and not very intuitively, I just assumed he was going to do some work in the bedroom. Meanwhile, he was packing his shit in the car and about to drive off! So I go rushing out to the car and stop him - all dramatic like. lol

(I'm really trying to keep this short and digestible, but it's really hard, so eish... bear with me.)

Long story short, he just has to go, can't talk about why, but he needs to be at the office - he'll call when he arrives, keep his phone on at all times, and let me know when he's leaving. So again, I leave it. I'm troubled, but I have guests and they really are some of my favourite, funnest friends, so I leave it. LB goes home, Sims and crew and I all go to bed and I wake up in the morning as Hubby is getting out of bed.

So now, in the sober light of day, I'm like "WTF!!!" . "Like, really. What just happened?". I thought I did everything that could be reasonably expected to handle that situation like an adult. So why did I not get adult behaviour back, or did I?

I just didn't know what to make of it. I think Hubby and I are a bit of an odd pair, because we are extremely similar. We are both very sensitive souls. Our hearts rule our heads and that's just a fact. But we are not fiery and tempestuous. We feel deep within and avoid conflict. And yet, while we are both that way, we are both that way for very different reasons.

It's so intoxicatingly paradoxical! There is serious attraction for me in the concept of two people being so alike and yet so different... BUT, I digress.

Anyway, this situation had me stumped. I have made real progress over the past two months in figuring ME out. Just me on my own. Now, I am being faced more and more with getting to know and own me in the world. (Hmm... rings a bell).

Ok, now I'm taking this in a different direction. I didn't expect that.

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PAUSE!
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This is a part 2-worthy blog post, if ever there was one.

To be continued...

At last...

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~Lewis B. Smedes, "Forgiveness - The Power to Change the Past," Christianity Today, 7 January 1983

Almost a full month since my last post... I've actually been drafting this post for the last week. Well, not this post exactly, but what was to be my next post. Today, I just started typing and looks like I'm gonna just have to throw all the past week's work away.

Why? Because it just doesn't apply any more.

Yesterday, I get a facebook message from X (long, long story - but basically a former bf. My first love and my first - and only - paradigm-shifting, earth-shattering heartbreak).

He’s growing his business empire and needs some branding and communication work done for his businesses. Just my game, so I’m like “sure, let’s meet”, what happened thereafter took place so quickly that, amidst the excitement of the idea of an extra paying job, it didn't totally register. All I knew was one moment I was minding my own business, and the next… there I was, facing the prospect of coming face to face with a man that I hadn’t seen in two years, or had a conversation with in close on five years. Not to mention the six-year-long tumultuous story that is our history.

Whoa!

I remember getting home after running errands all morning, and thinking to myself “Am I ready for this? Really ready?” The guy’s arriving in twenty minutes and I’m this close to pulling out my phone and calling him to say something had come up and I couldn’t meet with him! Had I had his phone number, I might actually have done that.

I was overcome by the urge to do something, anything to show him that I was doing okay. Clean the house up, mop the floor, buy some filter coffee so I wouldn’t offer him my usual instant stuff - anything. Luckily (and you’ll understand why in a moment), my morning schedule had left me no time for such preparations. So I just sucked it up.

Right on time - 12:59 on the dot, a knock on the door. It could only be him. I get up from my chair and to the front door. And I hesitate… for one painful moment, my heart starts palpitating as I clumsily try to find the key for the exterior security gate.

Deep breath...!

I open the door, and instinctively avoid more than a fleeting moment of solid eye-contact. I try to sound as nonchalantly pleasant as possible as I greet with a familiar, “heey!” while unlocking the security gate.

I turn around to lead him into the house, and every fibre in my being is screaming “Bad IDEA!!!”. But I catch myself with a stern “this is business!”, as I turn back around to lock up behind him. “Let’s go into the office”, I say. I lead him in, he takes a seat and pulls out the non-disclosure agreement he brought for me to sign. I smile a little on the inside… so typical of him. He’s always been paranoid and reluctant to trust. No surprise he’s still the same in business.

I make myself comfortable, secretly thanking the universe for her mysterious ways. If I hadn’t been so busy all morning, I would’ve responded to his facebook requests for my email address in time for him to send the agreement ahead of time and give me a chance to go through it before we met. As I read through the document, I breathe a huge sigh of relief and say a silent thanks for those few extra minutes to just centre myself and regain control. Luckily, that was not a difficult task.

The rest of the meeting went well. His plans and ideas all sound great, and it’s a fantastic project for our little company to get involved in. Huge potential for growth. On the business side, it really was a welcome highlight of the past month. But that will be the subject of another post.....

This little preamble creates the context for the point of today’s blog post. It’s all about how far I’ve come in my life. I can scarcely believe that, not more than 5 or 6 years ago, I could have never handled such a meeting.

At this moment, I pause… trying to find the words to describe what my relationship with this man has meant, done, been and represented in my life. In fact, the words do not exist. It was so intense, so entrenched, that it is impossible to describe. Point being, there was a time when I thought I would never get over it. There was a time when I could not see (no matter how far into the future I tried to look) a stage in my life when I would not still think of him, miss him, hate him, love him; when his memory and the memory of our time ‘together’ would not haunt my every waking moment.

That’s what it was.

That said, yesterday I proved to myself, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am infinitely stronger than I ever thought or imagined I could be. I could not believe how unaffected I was. Apart, of course, from my initial nervousness - I felt total calm. There was nothing there. Not the intense anger or consuming sorrow, the bitter resentment or even the souldeep hurt that I thought I would carry with me for all my days. Just complete neutrality.

In between the business talk, there were moments when I would look at him - almost staring, straight into his eyes - searching for something... an inkling, a reminder of all of that heavy emotion that has always accompanied my interactions with him, whether in my mind or face-to-face. But there was nothing there! I felt like I was staring my greatest demon in the eye, facing off for the final deciding show-down. Victory was mine!

I looked at him as simply another human being. I felt no less respect for him than I would for anyone else that I have known for as long, like an old friend or family member. I can’t express what it meant to me to know that that one element of my past did not have the hold on me that I had feared it would.

How empowering to know that we can rise above the circumstances of our lives; that the human spirit triumphs - always; that as long as we are willing to accept and (more importantly) learn from the hard lessons that life throws our way, we will always be more than the sum of our experiences.

Though this may sound like utter rambling, I need to really put across – in the most concrete of terms - what a watershed this moment this was for me. In my 27 years of life. In all my existence, this moment stands out as one of the most positive realisations I have ever, ever... ever had!

Forgiveness, at last. Freedom, at long last!

To be free - truly free of the binds of one’s past; to separate one’s being from the events that have shaped it, is a quest that few of us ever truly master. And I have finally and conclusively seen that it really is possible. Really and truly possible.

Forgiveness at last.

FREEDOM AT LONG LAST.

"After everything that we’ve been through, I just want you to know that I still love you/ Want you to know that I forgive you (thank you for teaching me how to give)/ And I wanna let you know how much you changed my life/ I wanna let you know you taught me how to fly/ And I wrote this song to tell you this/ I’m better ‘cause you taught me how to give.
I took a swim in the sea of guilt and misery/ To find myself on an island in the middle of nowhere/ In my solitude I asked to know the highest truth/ And what I was told is to thine own self be true.
If Jesus can forgive crucifixion/ Surely we can survive and find a resolution.
Let’s keep it Moving/ Let’s shake free this gravity of resentment and fly high/ You’re only human/ Let’s shake free this gravity of judgement and fly high on the wings of forgiveness".
©
- India.Arie ~ Wings of Forgiveness "Testimony Vol. 1 Life & Relationships"

Back to basics

Every individual has a place to fill in the world and is important in some respect whether he chooses to be so or not. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

I'm really getting the hang of this 'living life' thing. Of course, there are shades of my former self that remain and that is to be expected. But, all in all, I feel for the first time in a long time that I'm actually doing ok. Life is good.

Little Tyke's birthday party was awesome. It all went so well. It was small, relaxed and more than anything, he had a great time (which is all that really matters). In fact, this weekend was pretty hectic. We had another two-year-old's party the next day and dinner with family immediately afterwards... and the best part, I got to spend time with Sims - wow! I love that chick, like for real. She's my heart.

These past few weeks, as I've been progressing on this journey of mine, my eyes have been opened to what really truly matters... family, friends, connection (to myself and the world that I live in), love, faith, courage. Of course, I still haven't gotten a firm grasp on all of them - not by a long shot. But, now I see. I really, really see.

Take Sunday, for instance. Mrs O, my girl from 'Varsity threw a party for her two-yr-old little girl (incidentally, she and Little Tyke were born like 3 days apart and Mrs O got married exactly a week before me. Crazy). Anyway, we went to the party and it was so surreal... I was living!

There I was with this old, dear friend of mine (and another of my favourite girls from 'Varsity) and it was great, almost like old times. The conversations were different, of course, but the vibe was the same... that intense sisterhood; the pure enjoyment of each other's company. Just fully in the moment. It felt so great.

And I was left wondering to myself why we lost touch in the first place. I hadn't seen Mrs O in over a year, and K (my other girl) in close to 5 years! Why? Why did we grow apart instead of growing up together? Neither of us stay more than 45min away from each other and yet somehow we lost each other. Rather, I lost them. Why?

On my part, I guess it's that self-involvement, my deep propensity for retreating into myself. I sat there listening to these women, watching them surrounded by their children and friends. This strong circle of support, all congergated around the celebration of this little child's birthday and I thought, wow! Here are women who, despite marriage and motherhood, never forgot about themselves. I felt like I was a part of something. A part of a community. A part of the world. And I looked around in awe at everything that I had been missing.

Then there was dinner at my aunt's place. My favourite aunt, in fact. Her kids, my cousins, are 16 and 18 - almost fully grown and I was shocked! I live 30min down the highway from them and I had no idea what sort of young adults they had turned out to be. We had our other cousins and each of our kids there, my brother, my husband - a family, a community... something so real . Something that I was - I am - a part of!

Looking back at it all now, I wonder how it got this way. I know that, although we all had a part to play in the creating the staus quo and the disconnection that has existed up to now, I can only take responsibility for myself. Still, I can't help but question whether - as 21st century people - we are losing something important. That sense of community. What does it really mean to us? How much are we missing out on by not embracing it?

It truly is the African way, but we can't escape the westernised world that we live in. How much is too much? Is balance really attainable? There are so many influences acting on our lives at any given moment. What are the trade-offs and what drives us to the decisions that we make in trying to make this juggling act work?

Questions, questions, questions! Yes, I know! But I suppose that is just my nature. I'm a seeker. So sue me! :)

Again, I will not dwell too much on looking for the answers. One thing I know for sure now, is that they will come to me - eventually. It's not called the University of Life/Hard Knocks for nothing. I think God designed it this way for a reason. The same reason that he has bestowed free will on all of us.

I just hope that I can continue to gravitate to the positives in life. I think if there was ever a wish that I had for myself, that would be it. To simply live my life and let myself be guided by and towards only those things that will enrich it.

God willing, there are many more rewarding and enlightening steps ahead on this journey of mine.

Milestone

The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. ~Henry Miller

It's Little Tyke's 2nd birthday tomorrow - in a couple of hours, actually - and I'm up way past my bedtime, waiting for the cake to cool, so I can ice it and get it decorated. I made the mistake of turning it out of the pan, before it had cooled properly and it split right down the middle!Ordinarily, I'd be totally freaking out right about now, but I'm not.

I've noticed a distinct change in myself of late. I am so much calmer. Usually, I am generally pretty highly strung - easily frustrated and even more easily pissed off, but lately that's not the case. Could it be that something has finally stuck? Could I actually be living, for a change? I don't know, and honestly - for once in my life, I don't want to know. My life has really taken a turn in the past week or so. A lasting change..? That, I don't know either. All I can say is it feels oh so good!

I feel like, for the first time in a long time, I'm truly in the moment - but not in a reckless way like before. And not in a pop-psych 'savour the moment' type of way, either. Just being present... fully and truthfully.

This week has been hectic to say the least - for a start, work has been moving at warp speed. Most of all, I've really been bonding with Little Tyke. It's made me realise how starved he really was for my attention. Short of admitting that I've been a bad mother, the past little while has really made me realise that I had been doing things all wrong. Pretty much since he was born, I've had this feeling of being totally overwhelmed by the motherhood role. I had all these ideas about what I should be doing, and it all seemed so much. So, true to form, I would always assume the foetal position - just curl up and admit defeat.

But watching my little guy and spending time with him recently has made me see that all he really needed was a mother, and all I really needed to do was be one. And that didn't mean being the 'made-for-TV movie' mother, or the baby and child magazine do-it-all supermom either. I just needed to be me and learn how to understand him.

Little Tyke has blossomed, virtually overnight. I'm so proud - bursting with pride, in fact. He's such a perfect little person and I have come to realise how pivotal my role is in preventing that perfection from being tainted. I guess that realisation is not new. But it's different this time, because I really feel that I can do it. I definitely see now that I am his mother for a reason, and I'm also the only mother he's got. No-one can do it better, because noone else is going to do it. I have all the resources I need within me.

So in a few hours, when he blows out the candles on his oddly-shaped, cracked cake I may even shed a little tear for my son and for his mother, who now finally gets it.

Resolve

You cannot plough a field by turning it over in your mind. ~Author Unknown

So, almost another week goes by and I think I've been sticking pretty well to my resolve, in terms of just getting on with it.

We just came out of a four-day weekend over Easter, and the temptation was strong. Oooh boy, was it strong! I had a few minor slip-ups, but all in all I'm pretty proud of myself. I never slept in, I never binged (well, except for movie night with buttered popcorn and crisps. Eish!), and even the drinking was kept to a respectable minimum (well, except for the braai on Friday night - but we were drinking someone else's booze, so that doesn't count).

Lol! It's so wierd how I know myself so well, but in a lot of ways I don't really know myself at all. I feel so predictable, but every time I think I know what I should do next, I go and do something totally different. Yet, somehow, I'm never surprised by what I actually end up doing. I don't know, does that make sense?

It's like there's three different versions of me... There's the me I am right now, the me I really am inside, and the me I know I can be - and 'never the twain shall meet', so to speak. I really struggle to reconcile the three...

To get to the me I know I can be, I have to release the me I am inside and start healing the me I am right now.

And then sometimes, I think it's all bulls**t. Did our grandmothers, or even our mothers for that matter grapple with all this turmoil? I think not! They just got on with life and did what they had to do. At times I feel so self-indulgent and decadent, spending all this time, languishing in this pit of suburban angst. I wish I could just do what I have to do and get on with life. Just stop asking all these damn questions!

Anyway, I guess it just is what it is and I've got to just find a way to ask all the damn questions, while getting on with life and doing what I have to do.

But wait, no! I'm not asking anymore questions, remember? I think I just realised that the task I have set myself is much harder than it really appears. And maybe that's just what I need to do. Maybe the only way to get my 'three me's' to finally converge is to focus them all on one goal: just getting on with life and doing what I gotta do!

Maybe. Just maybe. (Technically, that was another question. lol. This is really gonna be hard)

This is LIFE!

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. ~George Moore

Ok, so - almost a full week later - I'm back. Having done some extensive introspection (and as predicted) I have no real conclusions as to the 'why' of what I had been doing recently.

All I know is, I've decided to just stop it. Like, quit - now.

How it happened? It was Thursday afternoon and I got up from my chair after making my last post then walked out of my home office and into the living room for a leg-stretch. I looked around and I couldn't f'ing believe it! Toys of the floor, carpet full of crumbs, dishes piled in the kitchen...

So I kick into gear and start tidying up. I had told myself that, before I start judging myself for my excesses of the past couple months, I'd really look at it objectively and start to identify the root cause then work backwards in sorting it out. Ask the right questions and find proper answers. But as I stood there, sweeping my floors, straightening the throws on the couch and stacking dishes - the internal dialogue began...

"Just look at this. Just look!", "How could you let it get to this", "This is disgusting", "You know you have no excuse", "You're life is actually incredibly blessed", "You have so much to play for and so much to lose", "You need to get off your ass and start doing right by the life you've been given", "You need to stop f'ing around and show God how grateful you are for your blessings",.

"In case you didn't know, this is life. Your life. Only you can make it right. Stop making excuses. Stop playing the victim. Stop wallowing in this pseudo-Nirvanic quest for the 'answers'", "You don't have all the answers. So what? This is life. She doesn't give a damn if you have all the answers. She's not here to pander to you! She's gonna do her, so you better be doing you".

And that's when it really happened. The me of the past two months finally responded to this internal tirade that her other side had been subjecting her to. And like a true girl, what did she do? She cried. She bawled her f'ing eyes out. Because she knew it was all true. She knew that she had no excuse, she was so incredibly blessed and she did have so much to play for. So why throw it to sh*t like she had been doing? But that was a question. "Stop looking for answers everywhere when the truth is staring you in the face. Wake up!".

"Think of the gorgeous, perfect baby you thought you would never have; the compassionate, hard-working, amazing husband you thought you'd never meet. Think of all you have. Stop looking for answers that you may never get and, for once, be in the moment. Stop f'ing around."

Just do what you have to do now, in this moment. What you don't have to be doing is having a glass of wine when there's all those emails to send. You don't have to be shopping, when there's all those dishes to wash. You don't have to be eating, when there's an entire family that you need to be nourishing with a home-made, love-filled meal.

So, that's where I'm at.

I'm going to stop asking questions for a while. Ok, maybe I'll still ask a few (lol), but the answers I'm leaving alone. Maybe they'll come to me, maybe I'll forget this epiphany and start seeking again. For now, I'm just living. I'm going to stop f'ing around and just do what I've got to do.

Headspin

Abstainer, n. A weak person who yields to the temptation of denying himself a pleasure. ~Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, 1911

The past two months have seen me going through a period of sheer, irresponsible excess. I think the main reason was that immediately prior to that I was in dire financial shape - to the point where Hubby, Little Tyke and I were making plans to move in with Mommy.

Thanks only to a generous landlord and the cashing in of an investment I had been building up over the past 7 years, it didn't go that far. So, thankful to not have to move out of our much loved & lived-in home and flush (well... relatively) with the money from sellling my shares, the situation had suddenly flipped on its head.

Now, the way it works in my house, I generally have more money than Hubby at any given point in time - purely because, while he's finishing his studies, my income is significantly greater than his. But the understanding is, family comes first - if there's a need that affects the whole family, both us do what we can to make sure that need is meet.

Anyway, that first month, the family was looking pretty good and I had a couple more bucks in the bank - not enough to get us out of the debt-trap we're in or set us up for life, but a good couple of bucks just the same. So it began... the new clothes for Hubby, Little Tyke and Me, the date nights and takeout, the braais, the booze... Good Lord, just the mere act of recounting it all on this page... Damn!

Then last month, I got word of a tax break from the revenue service and a good month at work... and on it went - intensified, and bordering on the grotesque... It hit me last weekend when I was at home alone on Saturday night and finished off 7 bottles of a very well-know and potent vodka cooler, sending drunken sms'... Good Lord. Then Sunday, we go to a live music show, have some drinks and Hubby gets so tipsy that a couple of very uncharacteristic things happen (keep reading this blog and, you'll have enough of an idea of Hubby to know what those things could possibly be).

Sooo.. anyway, I'm here reflecting and I can't think of why that craziness happened. We've been so diciplined for so long... I lost 10kgs, we had stopped using our credit cards - times were helluva hard, but we were maintaining. And then, this... this desperate spiral into near-destruction. Scary...

This post deserves a part two... I'll mull this over and get back to it here, to explore my conclusions.

...or knowing me, rather to explore my questions.

Ja, ne?!

Family ties?

The family is a haven in a heartless world. ~Attributed to Christopher Lasch

Well, my whirlwind week has continued in pretty much the same vane, although it feels like momentum is waning now. It's not as though I don't have enough to do. I've got plenty, but motivation is in short supply. The fact that tomorrow's Friday doesn't help either. I love Friday, and probably look forward to it a little more (and a little earlier) than I should.

As the week draws closer to an end though, my thoughts seem to be drifting in a different direction: Family. Those ties that sort of fall upon you. Unchosen, unsolicited.

I've got quite a few cousins, but not so many as to excuse the way I've neglected them all. Here are these people that I've known basically all my life, who were around when I was a rotund child, when I was a wild teenager and still here as I settle into being a grown woman. People that are perfectly placed to create that network of support and friendship that seems to be so missing in my life. Granted, most of them are in another country but some are here and even those that aren't are not that far away (Lesotho is like a 4-hour drive from here).

We've established that I'm generally quite self-absorbed. I do spend a lot of time living inside of myself and not enough giving of myself. Who better to give to than the people who are already there. Just give a little time, give an occassional phone call.

I did that today. I sent my favourite cousin - who I had not spoken to in almost a year - a text today, and he called back. We talked for all of two minutes, but what a change it made to my day. It changed my whole attitude - got me smiling instead of stressing. And I thought "wow!".

I am beginning to put together little pieces of the answers to the many questions in my mind, everyday. I'm starting to see that not having all the answers is no excuse for not living, and part of it is reaching out to other human beings. Maybe I need to stop spending so much time trying to figure out the answers on my own and start trying to see if there isn't anything I can learn by just being in the world... really being a part of it. Talking, sharing, connecting.

I am self-involved, but maybe I don't really have to be. I can start by reaching out and engaging with some of the things that aren't actually that far outside of myself. Like my family. Maybe that will be the first step to venturing out even further, and finally - one day - to actually claiming and occupying my own place in this world.

Doing the work

Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. ~Thomas Edison

This week has gotten off to a pretty good start. It's actually made me realise how much I love feeling like I've accomplished something... the pressure, the mad rush, no time to think or take calls. Monday was like that. Tuesday too - to a lesser extent. It was exhilirating!

I hate feeling like my contributions are meaningless. My job does that to me more often than not, and I suppose that's my fault in a lot of ways. I guess after 4 years, the novelty has kind of worn off and I'm just not feeling it as much. Besides, I'm not tryin to be employed for the rest of my life and, in my head, this job has just become a means to an end.

Hubby, Big Bro and I have started a small company - and by 'started' I mean it's registered with the company's office and that's about it. I'm trying to get us to put together a proposal to do some stuff for a new community television station, but the momentum is just not building. I think we've all just kind of been lulled into a deep comfort zone by our 9-5's and since our company's not bringing in any money, it's no surprise that it takes second place.

This is just one of the many 'grown-folk' things I'm trying to get my head around. It's scary being on your own. Not alone, but on your own. No parachute or safety net in the form of Mommy or Daddy. Pretty much everything is a risk now coz you have to bail yourself out if it all goes pear-shaped. It's only natural that you'd want to play it safe.

But I'm tired of playing it safe. I really feel like I'm confined in a prison of my own making. These self-imposed chains of fear... fear of failure, which breeds fear of trying. It's like a vicious cycle and I just want to break free! How fabulous it would be to just feel free.

It all begins with me. Yes, I know. But how? I have a lot of answers and things I know for sure, but most of it just creates more questions in my head. It's like I know all the universal truths, but what's MY truth? How does all apply to me? That's the pivotal question of my life and I am so desperate to find an answer to it.