Thinking out loud

They’ll know I’m a fraud.   It’s all an act.   Say the right thing, appear this way and they will approve.   They do approve, so why change? What does my fear look like?  False bravado.  Pursuing confrontation which I’d rather not.  Overthinking every word.  Replaying decade old conversations in my mind, wishing I’d said something different. Saying no to things I should say yes to.  Being illogically headstrong.  Debilitating fear of failure.  Doing only the things people think I’m good at.  Immersing myself in work in a way that’s not always healthy.  Dying on the hill of declarations I made about myself that no longer apply.  Shutting people out.  Pretending I know the words to say.  Pretending I’m a better friend than I am.  Manipulating narratives to suit me.  Playing the victim.  Anger.  Retelling every story like an epic. Lying.  A constant burden to carry.  I even fear that pe...

I recently received some painfully disappointing news. The kind that hurts in your chest and takes your breath away for a split second. I know you know it. The news that is followed by the sting of tears in your eyes and the immediate realisation that your dream has died. I wrote about it on twitter the other day trying to my make sense of it all. I do this a lot. I try to unravel my thoughts and emotions by writing. A lot of it is in my journal, it's the purple leather bound one from monsoon. I love that journal. Other times I'll write it in my phone notes and other times I'll come here. So here I am. Trying to put this to bed. I've allowed myself to dream big dreams in 2019, when it comes to my career. I have allowed myself to put imposter syndrome aside for a little while and reach for what could be. Some of it worked. Most it didn't and I find myself here facing crushing disappointment with more questions than answers. When I don't have answers I ask m...

I am a mother.  Two formidable girls call me mum and it is a role I came into fearfully, one I was ill-prepared for and one that teaches me countless lessons daily. The responsibility of getting it right feels like the proverbial sword of Damocles; looming and constantly reminding me of what other things I have to get right. Will they be happy, are they secure, am I good example, what lessons do I still have to teach, are they eating enough vegetables, will they know that they are capable of achieving all they set their minds to? It goes on and on and I tremble as I type this because the list is actually endless and I often feel I may not have the strength or the presence of mind to actually get it right.  And there is that word! Right. What is the right, correct, proper way to be their mother? I have no idea. But what I learnt today is that it is simpler than I often imagine. It is about being present. Listening and engaging and finding out who these people really are and...

There are few things more stressful than grocery shopping. I know it; I am privileged to be able to cart a shopping trolley around throwing in eveything (ish) I’d like with reckless abandon. I work with a shopping list because I’m almost always hungry, not just when I go shopping and we all know that a hungry shopper is greedy shopper. The list also helps to quell my deep seated almost pathological fear of forgetting things. So here’s how it plays out. Grab trolley. Preferably the big ones. Place heavy handbag in the spot where kids can sit. I need to get better at handbag packing because I believe I’m doing myself some long term shoulder damage. Story for another day. Burst through the doors with the gusto befitting such a momentous occasion. Decide which end of the store I’ll tackle first. It’s a quick mental calculation that always has the same result. Fresh veg and dairy last! Head to the very last row and then the craziness ensues.  Two things to note here. Actually o...

There is something about the moment when your body gives way under you. It is unexpected and brutal, surprising and surreal. Your weakness is magnified and all the things that really matter come to fore. Got me thinking about why it takes a system failure and near shut down for me to pause and think about my wellbeing. Why I can naturally be all things to all people and not myself. Why even typing the word 'myself' makes me cringe a little because it's means I'm self absorbed.  In silence and darkness and the solitude of my pain comes a new clarity. A different approach. A more honest self.  A self more comfortable in self. 

That's what they call me. But I'm not free. I was just born after one oppressor took over from another. It's an unspoken rule where I'm from. We all know it; young and old. We simply don't speak against those in power. No jobs, no healthcare, no money, no future. But we just remain silent because those are the rules, don't you know? If you speak you're unpatriotic, disrespectful to the struggle, a puppet of the West or subversive (wish they'd stop using that word).  Why can't I just point out that I feel like the whole system has failed me without fear of violence or incarceration. I'm supposed to be grateful that I don't live with South African crime, the dark cloud of terrorism over Europe or the demonising of my Christian beliefs in the Far East. I'm supposed to believe that if my children fall ill today and I cannot afford a pint of blood it's because of sanctions and not because those in power have failed. I'm supposed to cel...

THERE Something is hanging in the air Looming, threatening, frightening It's locked my limbs to inaction Closing my eyes and bracing myself It'll have to find me right here Can you feel it too? Choking the promise that once was Making me dread what will be Stifling, the air too dry to breath Not even shade under the trees Nothing for free To free me, no one Surely this is not how it should be? Comfort in ruins Delight in despair Pray tell what took me there? Laughter in disaster Will I even have a heart hereafter? A book with covers A few pages Not chapters Empty Shelve it, burn it No matter No one will notice Eyes closed, self braced It'll have to find me right here. FINIS

I was up and about much earlier than usual. Nothing reminds me of times gone by like the darkness just before sunrise and that chill on my cheeks. There is something quite magical about that time. People up at that time have purpose. Women carrying heavy loads, already toiling. Men carrying the dreams of entire families on their shoulders, the strain etched distinctly on their brows. Little children making their way to school. What time did they get up? What time did whoever got them ready wake up? Then the joggers, the walkers, the exercisers. Determined as the sweat drenches their clothes; to run further, walk faster. Each one determined. He is determined to sell those tomatoes today. He stacks them into a precarious pyramid and steps away briefly to marvel at his handiwork. She carries an IKEA shopping bag on her head. The name almost rubbed away from overuse. So many miles it took to get there, so far from the aisles of build it yourself furniture and so many kilometres she will wa...

Have you ever forgiven someone? I mean really forgiven a person; who has caused you pain, humiliation and that yucky feeling of having the rug pulled from under your feet. Have you ever bundled those feelings in a neat little package and thrown them away only to encounter them again when you were innocently taking a walk round your own mind? Do you know the feeling of immersing yourself in that anger afresh and wondering what you ever did to be treated that way? Your heart feels heavy again, bruised anew. Offended again, ego raises its ugly head and declares that no one has the right to hurt you that way. You wrestle again with the when. Consider the how and slip frightfully back into trying to unpack the why. And then you realise, you never forgave them at all. You chose to walk away because staring pain right in the eye burns your eyeballs. That neat package of ill feeling was all you could do to stay sane. But absolving that person of their crime, expunging their record forever, wis...

There are some things about the festive season that make me rather uncomfortable. Like that old saying 'Compliments of the Season'. I never remember to say it and I often feel like a dunce when I just say the non-season specific 'Hello' and the person responds with 'Compliments of the Season'. I never know what to say back. 'Compliments of the Season to you too' is rather long and convoluted. It's like saying thank you when someone says they love you. I've said it (compliments of the season to you too) and it often leaves the other person with the glazed look of information overload. So what are you supposed to say back? Thank you? Then it means I haven't given back compliments of the new year. Will the lack of reciprocity mean I have damned that person to a compliment-less year? Perish the thought. An even more troublesome animal is that old Zimbabwean way of shortening things that shouldn't be shortened. Forget the confusion of 'C...

You know when you haven't seen an old friend in a long time and you eventually meet up?? If you're like me you (and I doubt you are!) you probably have a list of things that you must discuss to catch up. And I mean an actual written down list!! Lists calm me. We will talk about seeking therapy later. Anyway I'm thoroughly mortified at how long it's been since I blogged and like meeting up with an old friend I feel like I should list a few things that we must chat about. The first and most important thing is that I'm now a mum. After a trying pregnancy God gifted hubbz and I with the most beautiful little girl. She is far more beautiful and engaging than I could ever imagine  and she stole my heart from the moment I met her. I was petrified of becoming a mum and I've overcompensated by reading up and getting clued up on baby stuff more than I've ever been on any other topic. I can already see bits of me and hubbz in her and I can't believe she wasn't ...

I really cannot believe how long it's been since I last blogged. Sometimes life takes over, grabs you by the scruff of the neck and drags you into submission. Pausing to write about it all was the furthest thing from my mind. Instead I just licked my grass burns and pulled through it with all the energy I could muster. To be honest 2013 wasn't all bad, in fact it was pretty fabulous. I didn't do all I'd set out to do, I did some things I could have never envisaged and grew in ways I know will be useful for me in the future. So this very first waking moment of 2014 finds me sitting on the cold floor of the balcony of our apartment. I cannot believe how neglected my hanging strawberry baskets are. These once astoundingly fertile and beautiful baskets of fruit and plush greenery (that always reminded me of the fruit of the loom logo), are now in dire straits! There must be a metaphor somewhere in there. Where there once was promise now grow weeds. Not even impressive weeds...

What do you call someone you grew up with? The person who was born a week before you. The one you shared baby food with and every bath for the first five years of your life. When I was ill so was he. When he got a new cardigan, so did I (often the exact same cardigan!). We knew each other well. He knew that stuff made me cry, he'd sit with me till the sobs died out. I knew he had a naughty side, I never let them be too hard on him. He let me have the last bite of everything and I listened to his crazy dreams!  What would you call that person??! Brother? Friend? A gift for a timid child who really needed a friend at home because she was too afraid to make friends anywhere else.  It's your birthday today. I'm thinking of you. I miss our lives before they got complicated. Hope something made you smile at least.  Happy Birthday 

What better way to celebrate the arrival of Baby Cambridge?? Bangers and Mash methinks. 

I spent the whole of yesterday on the serious business of royal baby watch. Clad in my union jack apron (from the royal wedding!). I say from; I wasn't actually there. That's a whole other blog about how I foolishly bought into the commercialisation of a couple's marriage. They don't know me and yet I allowed a shop to take my hard-earned money in order that I would feel as though I was part of the wedding. Hilarious right? But I'd do it again. Would I buy an apron or put up bunting up to celebrate the marriage of Persuade and Headlight...probably not. And that's a crying shame.  Anyway I digress. So the royal baby  was all my favourite radio stations talked about. From the serious 'this marks a pivotal point where one must pause and seriously consider whether one is royalist or republican' REALLY?! To the less uptight 'wonder whether they'd ever be free to name the baby something like Poppy'. Now that's more like it!  And then the little...

There is no one in the athletics world I love more than Tyson Gay. The news today that he and Asafa Powell among others had failed a drug test, quite simply broke my heart.  Could his desperate need for a come-back and a possible head to head with Usain Bolt driven him to want to win at all costs? Was his current resurgence real? Too good to be true.   Watching him win races again in his cool, calm and collected way was wonderful. He was right where I thought he should be and now this. I wish he'd say more. Clarify things. I know this sounds naive but he just doesn't strike me as the type to cheat and perhaps the corruption and commercialisation of sport has turned good sportspeople into desperate fame hungry pawns. It's now become a case of who will fall next, what's the next scandal? But blame to those it is due. You cheat, you're out.  Just heartbroken. 

I certainly cannot! A sign of maturity is the ability to shut your mouth and curbing the need to weigh in on things that don't really concern you. I am not mature just yet. I am constantly reminding myself to shut my mouth, it's often too late. Me and my big mouth. You don't realise how many times I wish I could have a do-over after I've blurted out something that should have never been said. The height of cringe-worthiness! I am learning everyday. 

If I had to spend another minute hearing about Miami Heat, Dwayne Wade and Lebron James...I would have probably been taken in for arson (picture a smouldering tv!) or homicide (picture what you will!).  So basketball is over, couldn't help but roll my eyes at the silly ESPN advert suggesting other sports my poor hubbz can fill the emptiness with! PUKE! Emptiness? Really? On to the next one! 

I am tired. Utterly finished. I got to the end of my tether and fell off. My limbs are heavy and my mind is crowded. I'm irritable and edgy. You think the world would have mercy on me and throw me a life line...no such luck. Three work assignments due yesterday and a messy house. A jumbled brain and heavy eyelids. Sadly only 40 minutes till the day ends. Pause. I need to catch up. Long deep breaths should help they say. No. It's making me even sleepier. What I want is a little slumber, a little sleep, a little folding of the arms. All I have, a little shudder, a bigger sigh and a little all-nighter. Sleep ye lucky souls, no rest for the blessed.