As soon as I actually have anything to say, that's NOT an incessant whining, you'll know.
If ever.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
And so….the trend continues….
First, let me regale you with a little tale illustrating one of the idiosyncrasies I call my own, which might seem a little freaky and weird to others.
I bought my first set of baby clothes when I was 21, 2 years before I got married, and 7 years before I got pregnant. Why? Because I wanted to be a mother that much. I had quite a collection going by the time I peed on the stick.
I know. Weird. Get over it.
Now, even getting divorced, and realising that I might never meet a man I want to be in a serious relationship with, didn’t deter me from buying baby wear…for the next baby, you see? Cos, the plan always was, to have at least 2 kids. I even PROMISED myself that I’d be pregnant before my 35th b-day.
Now, my 35th birthday is charging down on me, and my getting pregnant before then is about as likely as South Africa’s northernmost inland province being hit by a freak tsunami, before 21st June. Global warming taken into account, and all.
Okay, back to the reason for this delightful little story. Today, I gave away the little pile of baby things I kept in a dark corner of my cupboard. Last night, I took them out, bawling like a howler monkey, and divided them into 2 little piles. One, for baby boys, the other, for girls. The boy pile got wrapped, and presented to my pregnant friend, Nina, who will never know how much it tore me up to hand her that little blue package. The other, I asked my mom to give to The Sister (who is currently waiting for her blood work to confirm her third pregnancy).
Thing is, I’ve tried to give the clothes away before, and I couldn’t. It just represents so much to me, that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So, I made a deal with the Beautiful Ones, that if The Sister got pregnant (she was having trouble for quite a few months), I would give up the clothes. Her pregnancy would be my sign, that this was what I needed to do.
So, another end. For me, a really, really sad one. But, one that was a long time coming, and necessary. I’m sure that I’ll spend some time staring at the little corner that’s now empty, crying. But you know, it’s time to stop being fanciful, and face reality. Which is all I have, really, even if it is harsh, and horrid. At least it’s the truth.
I bought my first set of baby clothes when I was 21, 2 years before I got married, and 7 years before I got pregnant. Why? Because I wanted to be a mother that much. I had quite a collection going by the time I peed on the stick.
I know. Weird. Get over it.
Now, even getting divorced, and realising that I might never meet a man I want to be in a serious relationship with, didn’t deter me from buying baby wear…for the next baby, you see? Cos, the plan always was, to have at least 2 kids. I even PROMISED myself that I’d be pregnant before my 35th b-day.
Now, my 35th birthday is charging down on me, and my getting pregnant before then is about as likely as South Africa’s northernmost inland province being hit by a freak tsunami, before 21st June. Global warming taken into account, and all.
Okay, back to the reason for this delightful little story. Today, I gave away the little pile of baby things I kept in a dark corner of my cupboard. Last night, I took them out, bawling like a howler monkey, and divided them into 2 little piles. One, for baby boys, the other, for girls. The boy pile got wrapped, and presented to my pregnant friend, Nina, who will never know how much it tore me up to hand her that little blue package. The other, I asked my mom to give to The Sister (who is currently waiting for her blood work to confirm her third pregnancy).
Thing is, I’ve tried to give the clothes away before, and I couldn’t. It just represents so much to me, that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So, I made a deal with the Beautiful Ones, that if The Sister got pregnant (she was having trouble for quite a few months), I would give up the clothes. Her pregnancy would be my sign, that this was what I needed to do.
So, another end. For me, a really, really sad one. But, one that was a long time coming, and necessary. I’m sure that I’ll spend some time staring at the little corner that’s now empty, crying. But you know, it’s time to stop being fanciful, and face reality. Which is all I have, really, even if it is harsh, and horrid. At least it’s the truth.
Friday, March 28, 2008
So...... something happened
Now, don’t get me wrong, I am in exactly the same spot, emotionally, as I was when I did the previous post. It’s just that something strangely positive happened, and that, in my life, is rare.
I’ve been having these running battles with the Beautiful Ones, telling them that I don’t want to be here, and then waking up again …. Here…..and cursing them for not listening. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Spent Easter weekend with the Father’s side of the family, and surprised myself by telling The Sister, that, should I get the opportunity now, I would skip the country, and had to hold back a gasp, realising, I’ve said it! There’s now taking it back now!
And then, yesterday, I was surfing, having typed “working abroad” as my Yahoo search. Stumbled upon a site for a reqruitment agency placing contractors in the Cayman Islands. Thinking to myself “ that actually sounds rather ideal”, I did a little more research, and decided that if, one day, I actually get my shit together, I’ll send them my CV.
The shit I need to get together, is a document my employer has owed me for the past 2 tax seasons, without which, I am basically screwed. So, I can’t really go anywhere until he does the right thing.
Anyway, to get back to the original storyline… I visited a book store nearby, and saw that they’re having a sale. There’s this book I’ve been eyeing for months now, but it’s priced way to high, so yesterday I interrupted the battle I was having with the Beautiful Ones (in my mind, of course), to remark that it would be really great to find that book on sale, kinda as a way to illustrate how nothing’s going my way these days, I walked around the sale tables, and lo and behold, against the wall ….the book I want. Marked down, ever so slightly. Still can’t afford it, but it sorta felt like the Beautiful Ones was trying to rub my nose in it. Maybe trying to tell me that they were still around, and that they were looking out for me.
Getting back to the office, the boss informs me that he spent his Easter Weekend doing his taxes, which are in arrears with at least 4 years, and that the documents he owes me, are on their way!!!
I refuse to become all optimistic and bushy-tailed about the future, but hey, at least I feel like there’s someone up there listening to me, again. So maybe, I’ll stop shouting at them for a moment every now and then. And maybe, just maybe, I’m not as gone as I thought.
Then again, maybe it’s that bastard Hope trying to burrow its way in again.
I’ve been having these running battles with the Beautiful Ones, telling them that I don’t want to be here, and then waking up again …. Here…..and cursing them for not listening. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Spent Easter weekend with the Father’s side of the family, and surprised myself by telling The Sister, that, should I get the opportunity now, I would skip the country, and had to hold back a gasp, realising, I’ve said it! There’s now taking it back now!
And then, yesterday, I was surfing, having typed “working abroad” as my Yahoo search. Stumbled upon a site for a reqruitment agency placing contractors in the Cayman Islands. Thinking to myself “ that actually sounds rather ideal”, I did a little more research, and decided that if, one day, I actually get my shit together, I’ll send them my CV.
The shit I need to get together, is a document my employer has owed me for the past 2 tax seasons, without which, I am basically screwed. So, I can’t really go anywhere until he does the right thing.
Anyway, to get back to the original storyline… I visited a book store nearby, and saw that they’re having a sale. There’s this book I’ve been eyeing for months now, but it’s priced way to high, so yesterday I interrupted the battle I was having with the Beautiful Ones (in my mind, of course), to remark that it would be really great to find that book on sale, kinda as a way to illustrate how nothing’s going my way these days, I walked around the sale tables, and lo and behold, against the wall ….the book I want. Marked down, ever so slightly. Still can’t afford it, but it sorta felt like the Beautiful Ones was trying to rub my nose in it. Maybe trying to tell me that they were still around, and that they were looking out for me.
Getting back to the office, the boss informs me that he spent his Easter Weekend doing his taxes, which are in arrears with at least 4 years, and that the documents he owes me, are on their way!!!
I refuse to become all optimistic and bushy-tailed about the future, but hey, at least I feel like there’s someone up there listening to me, again. So maybe, I’ll stop shouting at them for a moment every now and then. And maybe, just maybe, I’m not as gone as I thought.
Then again, maybe it’s that bastard Hope trying to burrow its way in again.
Monday, March 10, 2008
My Life Is Complicated
An idiot I used to know told me this once, as an excuse not to have to deal with me. (On an aside, I find it interesting how I struggle to chug along my pleasantly neutral lines these days, I used to be able to call ANYONE “nice”.)
Aaaaanyway, initially, it really pissed me off that he would use such a flimsy excuse. Then, I thought about the remark, and came to the conclusion that, although he used it as a really bad reason to avoid being honest with me, he was actually right, in a round-about kinda way.
I’ve even been able to discern certain reasons as to why someone else might perceive this to be accurate, which I will now proceed to list (in no particular order):
• I am a single mom, and place my son’s welfare above everything else;
• We share a house with my mom, who is unable to afford living alone, so should I find alternate accommodation, she’s basically homeless;
• I expect to be treated as an equal, and not a ‘helpless’ woman;
• We collectively have 6 dogs, 1 cat, 2 rats, and around 5 fish (last count);
• I lug a huge amount of emotional baggage around with me, especially about men;
• My religious views are not exactly ‘mainstream’;
• I shun most traditional views and rituals;
• I know what I don’t want, as opposed to what I want;
• As the years trot by, I become more and more crusty and full of shit;
• I’m not easily intimidated;
• I want more kids;
• The one (kid) I have has ADHD, and has to follow a special eating plan, together with being ‘brushed’ (yes, like grooming a puppy) every day. The ADHD makes him really, really, active, and really, really, demanding when it comes to attention.
Now, I can certainly see how that might make me ‘complicated’ in people’s eyes, don’t you? (Yeah, took me a while, too, but hey, different strokes, and all that). So, more reasons I guess, proving why I’m better off alone.
Now, if only I could convince my heart of that, we’ll be a little less miserable (I’m just guessing at this stage).
Aaaaanyway, initially, it really pissed me off that he would use such a flimsy excuse. Then, I thought about the remark, and came to the conclusion that, although he used it as a really bad reason to avoid being honest with me, he was actually right, in a round-about kinda way.
I’ve even been able to discern certain reasons as to why someone else might perceive this to be accurate, which I will now proceed to list (in no particular order):
• I am a single mom, and place my son’s welfare above everything else;
• We share a house with my mom, who is unable to afford living alone, so should I find alternate accommodation, she’s basically homeless;
• I expect to be treated as an equal, and not a ‘helpless’ woman;
• We collectively have 6 dogs, 1 cat, 2 rats, and around 5 fish (last count);
• I lug a huge amount of emotional baggage around with me, especially about men;
• My religious views are not exactly ‘mainstream’;
• I shun most traditional views and rituals;
• I know what I don’t want, as opposed to what I want;
• As the years trot by, I become more and more crusty and full of shit;
• I’m not easily intimidated;
• I want more kids;
• The one (kid) I have has ADHD, and has to follow a special eating plan, together with being ‘brushed’ (yes, like grooming a puppy) every day. The ADHD makes him really, really, active, and really, really, demanding when it comes to attention.
Now, I can certainly see how that might make me ‘complicated’ in people’s eyes, don’t you? (Yeah, took me a while, too, but hey, different strokes, and all that). So, more reasons I guess, proving why I’m better off alone.
Now, if only I could convince my heart of that, we’ll be a little less miserable (I’m just guessing at this stage).
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I am not coping. This is fact.
My daily programme looks as follows:
06:00 Wake up, damn myself for being alive, get up
06:10 Force / shout my 6-year old out of bed.
06:11 Try to get him to decide what to have for breakfast
06:15 Force my son to decide what to have for breakfast
06:18 See that he eats
06:20 Start ironing his school clothes
06:22 Take his clothes to where he’s laying on the couch, ask him to get dressed
06:26 Get dressed myself
06:30 Threaten him to get him to dress
06:33 Ask him to jump on his trampoline (therapist recommended this for better concentration at school)
06:35 Shout at him to come brush his teeth, brush own teeth
06:38 Force him to brush his teeth
06:40 Try to get everybody out of the house, after putting his lunch in his bag, and grabbing something like an apple for myself.
06:45 See what a mess I am, in the car’s rear-view mirror.
07:15 Drop him off at school
07:25 Arrive at work
Work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
12:00 Use lunch time to pick up groceries for the house and dinner, reading label after label to ensure Misha is allowed to have it.
Work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
16:00 Leave desk to walk the 2km’s to TAFKA Chief Advisor’s office, with my arms full of bags
16:15 Arrive, take a brief break to read the local paper
16:30 Leave with TAFKACA
16:40 Pick Misha up from school
17:00 Arrive home
17:10 Settle Misha to watch an hour of cartoons
17:15 Start dinner
18:00 Serve dinner, and actually sit down to eat my own dinner.
18:30 Try to get Misha to do homework.
18:40 Force Misha to do homework
19:10 Comfort my crying son, who gets so frustrated with homework that he cries every night
19:12 Leave his room so he won’t see me cry because I am so freaked out by how much he struggles
19:20 Sit down to watch a programme, while “brushing” him (another technique recommended by therapist)
19:30 Serve dessert, and get him something to drink, make myself coffee
20:30 Brush Misha’s teeth
20:35 Tuck Misha in
20:40 Pack Misha’s lunch for tomorrow
21:00 Sit in front of the tv, mind churning, trying to swallow down the panic
21:25 Feed the elderly dog who sleeps inside
21:30 Take a bath
22:00 Prepare the perculator for tomorrow morning
22:15 Brush my teeth
22:30 Lie in bed, trying to calm down and sleep
22:45 Feel the tiredness seep through my being, wish I was dead.
23:00 Decide it’s useless to cry, since it only makes my eyes puffy, and doesn’t change anything. Wish I don’t wake up tomorrow morning.
The End (I wish)
Rinse, Repeat.
06:00 Wake up, damn myself for being alive, get up
06:10 Force / shout my 6-year old out of bed.
06:11 Try to get him to decide what to have for breakfast
06:15 Force my son to decide what to have for breakfast
06:18 See that he eats
06:20 Start ironing his school clothes
06:22 Take his clothes to where he’s laying on the couch, ask him to get dressed
06:26 Get dressed myself
06:30 Threaten him to get him to dress
06:33 Ask him to jump on his trampoline (therapist recommended this for better concentration at school)
06:35 Shout at him to come brush his teeth, brush own teeth
06:38 Force him to brush his teeth
06:40 Try to get everybody out of the house, after putting his lunch in his bag, and grabbing something like an apple for myself.
06:45 See what a mess I am, in the car’s rear-view mirror.
07:15 Drop him off at school
07:25 Arrive at work
Work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
12:00 Use lunch time to pick up groceries for the house and dinner, reading label after label to ensure Misha is allowed to have it.
Work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
16:00 Leave desk to walk the 2km’s to TAFKA Chief Advisor’s office, with my arms full of bags
16:15 Arrive, take a brief break to read the local paper
16:30 Leave with TAFKACA
16:40 Pick Misha up from school
17:00 Arrive home
17:10 Settle Misha to watch an hour of cartoons
17:15 Start dinner
18:00 Serve dinner, and actually sit down to eat my own dinner.
18:30 Try to get Misha to do homework.
18:40 Force Misha to do homework
19:10 Comfort my crying son, who gets so frustrated with homework that he cries every night
19:12 Leave his room so he won’t see me cry because I am so freaked out by how much he struggles
19:20 Sit down to watch a programme, while “brushing” him (another technique recommended by therapist)
19:30 Serve dessert, and get him something to drink, make myself coffee
20:30 Brush Misha’s teeth
20:35 Tuck Misha in
20:40 Pack Misha’s lunch for tomorrow
21:00 Sit in front of the tv, mind churning, trying to swallow down the panic
21:25 Feed the elderly dog who sleeps inside
21:30 Take a bath
22:00 Prepare the perculator for tomorrow morning
22:15 Brush my teeth
22:30 Lie in bed, trying to calm down and sleep
22:45 Feel the tiredness seep through my being, wish I was dead.
23:00 Decide it’s useless to cry, since it only makes my eyes puffy, and doesn’t change anything. Wish I don’t wake up tomorrow morning.
The End (I wish)
Rinse, Repeat.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Mythbustin' 101
You know what I find fascinating? How certain things are sooooo obvious once you actually think about them, sooooo easy to classify and file away.
I’ve (for the last 2 years or so) systematically been assigning friendships to the past. And no, I don’t mean “losing” friends, I mean ending friendships. Not in a “Fuck you!”, “No, fuck you!” kind of way, but in a quiet, I’m-just-not-available anymore, kinda way. Initially, I assigned this to the delightful series of endings I’ve been having, but yesterday it dawned on me, that, in all (and I mean ALL) my friendships, I’ve been the one doing the supporting, the encouraging, the comforting. My very first friendship, that lasted all of 10 years, was like that, and each and every one inbetween then and now. Now, I am of the opinion, that that’s not what a friendship is supposed to be.
This does seem to be the main theme currently featuring in my life, doesn’t it? This pattern of, in effect, begging people to use me.
Do I miss my friendships? You know, in a certain distant, dispassionate way, I realise that being this isolated cannot be healthy…. But at the same time, the being-taken-for-granted, and the disregard for my feelings, no, I don’t miss that. I do miss the people, the souls, I guess. But, hopefully I’m breaking a vicious circle that was starting to get very self-destructive, and that can only be a good thing.
Like I said previously, I just hope that there’s a healthier beginning at the end of this, and not just another sheer drop to nothing.
One more myth busted, I can survive without being used as a human tissue. Live and learn baby, live and learn.
I’ve (for the last 2 years or so) systematically been assigning friendships to the past. And no, I don’t mean “losing” friends, I mean ending friendships. Not in a “Fuck you!”, “No, fuck you!” kind of way, but in a quiet, I’m-just-not-available anymore, kinda way. Initially, I assigned this to the delightful series of endings I’ve been having, but yesterday it dawned on me, that, in all (and I mean ALL) my friendships, I’ve been the one doing the supporting, the encouraging, the comforting. My very first friendship, that lasted all of 10 years, was like that, and each and every one inbetween then and now. Now, I am of the opinion, that that’s not what a friendship is supposed to be.
This does seem to be the main theme currently featuring in my life, doesn’t it? This pattern of, in effect, begging people to use me.
Do I miss my friendships? You know, in a certain distant, dispassionate way, I realise that being this isolated cannot be healthy…. But at the same time, the being-taken-for-granted, and the disregard for my feelings, no, I don’t miss that. I do miss the people, the souls, I guess. But, hopefully I’m breaking a vicious circle that was starting to get very self-destructive, and that can only be a good thing.
Like I said previously, I just hope that there’s a healthier beginning at the end of this, and not just another sheer drop to nothing.
One more myth busted, I can survive without being used as a human tissue. Live and learn baby, live and learn.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
