What happened?

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.  ~William Shakespeare

My little sister wrote a note about me on Facebook today. She's 18. She wrote about how much she admired me, how much she used to (and still does) want to be like me....

i remember sneaking in to your room when you were out of the house back when i used to visit you and Daddy over the holidays. I thought you were the coolest, most creative person on the face of the planet! The glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, the handwritten poems on the wall, all the old bottles you kept as candle holders. Your room became the best room in the house for me: not only was it filled with the most fascinating things, but also because i hoped that the longer i sat at your desk, the more i read your poems, the longer i listened to your Lauryn Hill cd, the more i would become like you. To me the ultimate compliment was "You have the same laugh as your sister" As soon as i had a steady hand i would paint my nails dark blue with white spots, the way i had seen you do. I started collecting teddy bears because of the three that stayed on your bed well into your varsity years. I still want to be just like you when im older. My awe over you has not faded through the years. Beauty, kindness, creativity. Forever the coolest big sister.

I was transported. Instantly. To a time that now seems so long ago. To a me that now seems so far away. But I was also forced to ask some questions (as I so often do), "Was it all really so long ago and far away?" "What's really changed?". I'm still me... right? Apart from the job, the bills, the kid, the husband... I'm still me. Or am I? Should I be? Never I was more confident, never happier, never more sure of anything than I was back then. That can only be good. Right?

It's the perennial paradox of my 'adult' life... being the same, while being so different. How does that happen? What switch did I flip? WTF happened?? Why shouldn't I still have poems on my wall, and glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling? Why shouldn't I still be the same big sister that sparked a little girl's imagination and filled her with the possibilities of all that can be - with a little faith in yourself and a little strength of your convictions?

I'm older. I know more. And yet, never have I felt smaller and less sure.

Back then, I wasn't afraid to be wrong. I wasn't afraid to live... because life was all I had. The raw experience of it; the heady intoxication of it. Alive and in the moment was the only way to be.

Fuck fear! Fuck propriety! Fuck me... I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing!

Feels good to be back!

Love one another and you will be happy.  It's as simple and as difficult as that.  ~Michael Leunig

The Mr and I are... well, wonderful - to be frank.

Little Tyke is gone again, and this time it feels like we are doing it right. We're taking advantage and making the most of it. It almost feels like we're dating again.. fun, spontaneity, can't-get-enough-of-each-other-ness. It's back and it's strong. Part of me feels like I should be ashamed/embarrassed that it's the departure of our son that has spurred this on. But I'm done with that. I'm done with guilt. I'm done with denying myself the right to feel good about what's good in my life.

We are blessed. Blessed to have parents (and in-laws) that are there for us and willing to do what they can to help us out. Blessed to know that although our son is not with us, he's in a place of love. Blessed to have the opportunity to almost start again; get ourselves right before we have our baby (back again). What is there to be ashamed of there? The only room for shame is ahead of us - in assessing, at the end of it all, how well we've used this opportunity we've been given. Will we be better parents? Will we be better spouses? Will we be better people? For now, all I see are blessings and we should be - above all - grateful for them.

I've rarely (if ever) been filled with such a sense of power over my own destiny. I've known it for a long time, and anyone who's *ever* read this blog can testify to that, but now I see it. I feel it - definitively and conclusively. I've decided to stop being afraid and start being free. It's already working. By changing me, I've seen (albiet in very small ways so far) how much I can change my life.

When it comes to me and The Mr, I guess I just never truly realised just how big a contribution I've been making to whatever inadequacies I felt there were in our marriage. But I'm done with that too. I know what I want and I know it's possible because that's where we started off to begin with. There's a reason why I married that man and why he married me, and I think we're finding each other again. But we're finding each other as a married couple in 2010, instead of trying to be the girlfriend and boyfriend we were in '05.

What really blows my mind, though, is that as different as 'we' are now, we are actually still the exact same people. We spent the whole of yesterday just drinking vodka and listening to music and talking, then lying in bed and watching movies... just the two of us. That's exactly how we used to spend our days when we were dating - sharing the things we love (including each other!). What felt great was it wasn't some pre-planned 'date night' that all the experts say married couples should have. It was two people who absolutely love each other's company just having a good time.

It made me realise how much time I used to spend longing for what was instead of living what is. It's been here all along, I just didn't recognise it because it doesn't look the same as it did five years ago. It's actually better!

Fair is fair

It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive.  ~Earl Warren

Sometimes I just want to run away. It gets too much. I feel like I hate my life; like I could have done so much better. But now it's too late. I'm stuck. Trapped.

I hate it when those days come around.

I hate feeling like I want to run away from my husband; from my child. They don't deserve it. And it's definitely not because of them that I feel that way. I saw it in The Mr's eyes today. He had seen it in me. The last time that happened, was also the first time I'd ever heard him even hint at 'forever' not actually happening for us. It scares me, because it controls me. When it takes hold, it's this overwhelming destructive force - laying waste to everything in its wake.

I'm watching him pace around the house as I write this. Tension hovering between us. I still feel the feelings, but I've come far enough to at least recognise them now. I at least know enough stop it. I can not; will not make my family casualties of the internal battle that rages in my own mind.

It's just not fair.

Growth

God has entrusted me with myself.  ~Epictetus

Somebody I follow on Twitter inspired me to write this - but more importantly, to share it.

The longer I run, the more I am willing to let catch up with me;
The more ground I cover, the less the race means.
The further from fun, the more like unadulterated bliss it will be;
The less it is fantasy, the more surreal it feels.

Reckless is cautious; and down somehow becomes up.
The answers turn obvious, when you learn to fill your own cup.

The years become welcome, when growth proves itself boundless;

The urge to control dissipates, though you paint you your own canvas.

The noise of urgency succumbs, to a love that is soundless.

And self becomes all you hear, when age finally overcomes brashness.

The quiet after the storm

God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken,
And yet so profound, so loud, and so far,
It fills you, it thrills you with measures unbroken,
And as soft, and as fair, and as far as a star.
~Joaquin Miller

And now... silence.

Everything I shouted from the roof tops, the dark secrets I let spill from my lips. It all lays there in a tangled mess, and it seems almost as if it has done nothing but stun us into complete silence. Not that we aren't dealing with it. We are. Steadily, working through all that needs to be fixed, and doing it together. But there is an unmistakable air of things unsaid.

It's a tension that wafts in between us at times, like a shifting fog. Never staying for long, but it hovers thick and heavy while it's there. It's interesting, because in a way it's also kind of a good thing. One thing we came to agree on during the long heart-to-heart (that I needed so badly a month ago) was that to be better to each other, we also had to be better to ourselves. Part of the silence that now prevails is just the two of us, each taking the time to look inside so we can better see what it is we are projecting to the outside - to each other.

I see that now. For the past two weeks, I've been looking at it very differently (and to my detriment). I realise that I had been acting like a small child, who opens one eye and peeks up from his morning prayers to check what the other kids are doing. I did my 'work' and when I was ready, I peeped up at him and got frustrated that his head was still bowed.

I huffed and puffed (in my own head, of course) about how he had retreated from me after he had said we'd do it together. All the time, I never stopped to think that perhaps I needed to just take him at his word and rather try keeping my own head down for a little longer and checking if I didn't still have stuff I needed to refine.

There's a road that we committed to when we had that talk - a road that we promised to travel together. For me to doubt the sincerity of his promise now would serve no purpose, especially when - in actual fact, his actions have shown only that he fully understands what I told him and that he knows what he needs to do.

I said before that all those titles were too big for me to hold on my own. I've told him that. He understood. So time to stop complaining. He's my full partner now, like I asked . It's ok if, every now and then, he just chooses to be a silent one.

Sick of Me (Happy New Year)

Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not.  ~Henri Frederic Amiel

It's been a minute. Kinda scary actually. So much has been done, said, forgotten. To reflect on it all now, in hindsight, would be all too revealing. And the truth, as we all know, is often-times the bitterest pill of them all.

But, it's a new year. Fresh starts, clean pages and all that. So reflect we must.

By the time December hit, I was utterly exhausted. What a f*&#!ng year! I'm not afraid to say, I'm glad it's over. A cyber friend of mine asked an open question last month on Twitter. "How did you find 2009? Good, bad or ugly?" My response: "2009 was faultless. Me in 2009? Bad." And that is the heart of it. I was at the edge of some weird precipice last year (and I probably still am, considering 'last year' was a mere 8 days ago). Face-to-face with myself as a mother, as a wife, a career-woman, a friend, a whole person - for real and for the first time. The new me. And I didn't handle meeting her very well.

My blog-post history speaks for itself. Epiphanies and falls. That's the story of 2009 for me. So tedious. So much so that I don't even have the energy to fill in the gaps since my last post. Apart from Little Tyke coming back, everything that's happened since is just more of the same really. I will not even try to recount or even summarise the past few months' events.

Even to make a resolution for 2010 seems pointless - I know all I need to know and all I need to do. I've learnt and failed at it all already. So consistency is the way forward. It's the only way. If this is to truly be a new year, I must do new things.

I'm frankly sick of myself. Sick of knowing what to expect. Sick of expecting too little. I'm sick of seeing different sides of the same person pulling in different directions. Sick of losing control when I know I hold all the control. Sick of knowing better without doing better. Just sick of it!

Tonight, after work, I'm going to speak to Hubby. I'm sick of it. I'm laying it all down for him... every failing, every frustration. I want him to see me. I want to force myself to be seen. I'm sick of it. No more hiding from myself, no more running from the world. A few months ago, I would have been terrified. Perish the thought of being exposed - the horror, if anyone should see that I really haven't gotten it all together - not one bit. But now? Now, I'm just sick of it. I'm not ok. I don't want to pretend that I'm ok anymore. Wife, mother, career-woman, financial manager, head-cook, housekeeper, organiser and general household manager is too big a title for me to take on any more.

I'm sick of it. I want to do it. I wish to God I could do it, but I can't. I just won't anymore. It's destroying me and because of that, I will start destroying everything around me. I'm sick of it!

So that's how my new year will begin... with simply getting rid of the old shit. No resolutions, no future plans. Just a blank slate and a clear conscience. I figure it can only get better from here.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.