1: I was a c-section baby
2: Born and bred in Durban
3: When my mom gave birth to me, they asked “what do you have at home?” My mom replied: “a little boy”, to which they replied-“congratulations, you have another little boy!” No I am not and have never been a boy.
4: My hair is not naturally dark-it is blonde/very light brown.
5: Our nanny, Julia, played a huge role in my life from birth. I saw her as a second mother. She was murdered shortly after I had my son.
6: I was 8 months pregnant when I got married. There is not a single picture from that day because I felt like a blimp.
7: I have 9 tattoos.
8: Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t get engaged because I fell pregnant. Jon and I were engaged 2 months prior.
9: I was never the popular girl in school. In fact, I was considered “weird”.
10: I was a complete tomboy growing up, and boys only started noticing me when I was thirteen.
11: My first kiss was disgusting
12: I’m clumsy as shit, but have never broken a bone.
13: I’ve had about 30 stitches in my life-the first 2 when I tried to open a Popsicle container with a fruit knife and stabbed my hand. (I was 18).The second three were on the other hand when I fell off a bed onto a wine glass. (At 19 almost EXACTLY a year later!) and the rest after my c-section.
14: My parents got divorced when I was 15. I felt relief rather than sadness.
15: I’ve been in three consecutive long term relationships since 16
16: I’m pedantic about my teeth.
17: I try my hardest not to be bitchy or gossip, because I’m shit scared of karma.
18: I have huge trust issues.
19: I see cats as my equals-my brothers, sisters and friends. I thank my mom for that.
20: As much as I wish I was-I am terrible when it comes to fashion. Add to that I’ve never had a manicure, pedicure or any kind of beauty treatment.
Today I fell victim to a very vicious, very dangerous rumour. Dangerous in two ways. It put my family life in danger, and secondly left me wobbling on the tightrope which would result in me either falling apart and letting it win and consume me, or tightening my grip, harden myself and letting it go with my head held high.
The problem is that I normally fall off the rope into the danger zone. Why, when I know I’m innocent, do I explode and fall apart and get into such a state that only numbing myself up with medication can keep me from being destroyed by my own thoughts? I’ve started to realise that I get so hurt and overwhelmed because for me, what people think of me means so much. I hate thinking that I’m disliked. I hate the thought that people hate me to such an extent that they could say and do such nasty things, without considering the consequences. Things that so easily pass the lips without realising the sheer agony theycause. This has happened a lot in my past. Best friends, family members and so called enemies have all said things and discussed my flaws between each other and amongst each other.While I was pregnant, an ex friend of mine said things to others that still, to this day, haunt me. I have fallen victim to this too many times, and each time it happens, a piece of who I am is chipped away. I’m not going to shine my halo and sugar coat myself. I have also partaken in nastiness and bitchiness, and for that I am truly sorry. And with every piece of my being that gets chipped away, my conscience becomes more apparent because I know how much it hurts.
I know I am often seen as hot headed, aggressive and intimidating-but those who know me best, know how truly sensitive I am, and how strongly I take things to heart. I wish I didn’t care. But I think it’s just in my making. I am a social person, I trust too easily and try to look for the best in people, but this is a flaw rather than a strength. I have written a similar blog about caring too much and taking things too personally. I will however keep learning from this. Bitchiness and bullying doesn’t end in high school. In my opinion, it gets worse.
Moral of the story, keep your secrets and personal issues to yourself, be kind but trust only those who love you for all your flaws and chinks in your armour. Keep your head down. Don’t get involved. Even if it means losing friends, the ones that understand will be there in the end. Most of all, though…don’t do anything to anyone that you wouldn’t want done to yourself. This applies to me, and as much as I try not to get involved in he said, she said, it can so easily trap you. To all those people I have hurt in the past with all of these things I have mentioned, as unintentional as it may have been, I am sorry. And to all of those people who find it so easy to spit out words like acid-take note: you might just destroy someone who is already fighting a difficult life battle. Whatever it may be. Taste your words before you spit them out. I will do the same. And along with that, I will bury my head in the sand and hope that there are still some good people left.
I am going to bed with a sore heart tonight, but I will get through this.
It seems the older I get, the harder life becomes. Finances, parenthood, a lack of a social life, losing friends, keeping fit and keeping your relationship alive. Add to that, in my case, a couple of psychological issues which are slowly but surely being treated and controlled, and sometimes I honestly feel like just giving up, crawling into bed, and not getting out.
Life becomes so blurry, and it seems each year I find myself saying: “Holy crap! It’s (enter month) already!” I become so afraid that because of the fast paced, never enough hours in a day kind of lifestyle I (and I’m sure a lot of other people) are experiencing, will result in me missing out and taking for granted the things that mean the most to me. My little grub has gone from a 3.2 kg, helpless little human, to a 13 kg, walking, talking person, with his own personality. How did it go so fast? What happened?
As terrible as it sounds, I actually look forward to bedtime. I’ve lost touch with friends, not because I want to, but because my life seems to be going at a million kilometers per hour. To those friends who have been patient with me, thank you. To those who haven’t, take a walk in my shoes (or slippers) and let me know how you feel.
I’d love to slow down. I don’t know how to. I get tired, I get burnt out. I spread myself too thin. And it’s only going to get more intense. With all of this, I have to make a promise to myself. Even if I take 10 minutes out of my day for “me time”, whether it be a bubble bath, a cup of sweet tea, or writing a blog. As for my son, I need to take the time so that when he is grown up and having his own baby and spreading his wings, I know that I have cherished every moment, every new word, every high five, every new skill that he learns. I want no regrets. And the same applies to all of those who are my TRUE friends and family. I will take the time for you. I will try my absolute best. Just know that I love you all and I’m sorry I haven’t been there.
Because one day, they won’t be there anymore. God forbid. But that’s how life goes.
This post is dedicated to the unsung heroes. The people who live with sufferers of depression and other mental illnesses. Those that choose to stay in our lives during the highs and lows, as difficult as it may be. And it’s fucking difficult. I’ve been on both sides of the coin. Supporting those with this soul destroying illness and suffering from it myself. It is a life long battle. Everyday is different, and everyday you wake up and hope to hell that today that black hole will give you a break. Just for today.
But this isn’t about us. The sufferers. This is for the partners, families, husbands, wives and friends who choose to stay-through the good and the bad. The most respect goes to the ones who don’t suffer themselves. They will never understand completely, why we go from being okay, to crumbling into pieces, not wanting to face the day, sleep the day away, go numb or even cry uncontrollably for no apparent reason. But what counts is that they try. We are not easy people to live with, we are unpredictable and often lash out to those close to us. When I tell you that we don’t mean it, please believe it. As twisted as it sounds, we lash out at you because we trust you enough to be there when we’re okay again. Please don’t misinterpret this as us using you as punching bags.
You are our rocks, the hands that pull us out of the black holes that threaten to consume us. As much as you presumably and understandably often feel helpless, you are our reasons to carry on.
As someone who battles this horrible illness on a day to day basis, I live by the old adage that “this too shall pass”. And if I could give you any advice, you, the unsung heroes, should live by this too.
We love you, we thank you and even though depression is so difficult to understand-even to those with the illness, you are appreciated more than you will never know, and stronger than you will ever realize.