Paralysis

With knees and knuckles rasped raw,
I stood paralysed in front of the door that had eluded me for years.



I had knocked with all the strength I had in me,
Pleaded with all the courage I could muster,
Tried.
Fallen.
Tried.
And fallen once more.


I have turned away from this door and ran back at the sound of an opening creek,
Only to arrive and feel the thud of its rejection, each time harder than the last.
until all that was left, was paralysis.
And a flood of tears I had no idea how to control.

I'd felt defeat arrive with the rage of an ocean,
How does my naive heart even begin to contain such a tumultuous task.
I had ticked all the boxes.
I had done everything the list said to do.
I had done everything the rules had lined out,
And yet here I was...
at the door that the journey had promised would inevitably open...
with a burning in my chest,
tears gushing from my eyes,
a knot in my stomach,
fear in my knees,
standing paralysed.



I watched the doors on the same corridors fling open on command for those who had asked them to.
I watched traffic through these same corridors move swiftly along,
Where are all of these people going?
Reaching flights on flights,
Ploughing through their doors.
I was happy for them, bless their triumphant souls,
And wanted all of these thing for them.
And I knew with all of my heart they deserved these things.
I was genuinely excited for them.

But on a personal level, despite all my attempts,
my door was stuck,
and that was a storm that rose a river of fire from the floor of my stomach
and burnt its way through everything on its way to my chest
and nestled its fury into a sizzling lump in my throat.



What was I doing wrong?
Why wasn't my door opening.
What was I missing?
What wasn't I learning?
What about me, does not command triumph?
What about me does not speak the language of breakthrough?
What about my best?
What.
About.
Me.



"If it doesn't open, it's not your door."
Well I guess I better go then.
"The urge to quit will be strongest before the breakthrough."
Well damn.



Standing in paralysis, my darkness crept in to cover me with exhaustion.
"you are going to be that girl who had all the talent, all the potential and all the fire...
who just disappeared into the big world and became nothing.
So you see,
With your beautiful heart,
And your infectious laugh,
And your warmth,
And your "do-good-and-good-will-come-to-you" attitude,
Life has nothing for you.
No dream, no reward, no plan, no purpose.
LIFE HAS NOTHING FOR YOU.
There was never anything special about you.
Shame, and you had such high hopes for yourself, you poor thing.
Go and eat something for that pain and crawl into bed.
The rewards of which will be the reminder of your defeat anytime anyone points out that you have put on weight.
The poking and the commenting and the snide remarks will wait for you every time you leave your house, and they will remind you of your existential crisis.
All that flab, all that jiggle, that is your war mapped out for the world to see all the times your wonder has failed.
Actually, stay here, inside, where no one can see you.
Be out of reach.
Curl into your shell.
Disconnect.
Feel nothing.
Make a home of this cold indifference, and remember all the times that you had sat across the table from the devil's weapons and recognised them as friends because your kind heart looks for the good, always.
This defeat is your new home."



This was the voice of my depression.
A debilitating sense of hopelessness.
Under my darker than grey cloud, I reflected on all the points that had come together to reach this place.
Every encounter, every conversation, every flash of Superwoman cloak I had hastily worn.
The Tries.
The fails.
The tries.
And the failures once more.
Had broken me and sent me crashing in a hyperventilating spiral into a darkness I still have no words for.


I wore my heart outside of my chest, because my exhaustion had broken my ribs open and left me vulnerable and exposed.



I knew there was a God.
I believed there was a God.
That He had plans...
But for a minute, I didn't think those plans included me.
Because if they did,
where was He?
At this door,
in this pain,
during this frustration,
at the hands of disappointment,
in all my collapse and breaking and tearing and burning and acid tears.
In all my fear,
Why wasn't He coming to get me.
Why was He letting me do this dance,
Of enthusiastic forward steps, and a knock of two steps back.
Why was I alone?


How come, on this list of people who had posed as angels, and capitalised on my naivety,
and formed weapons against my attempts...
How come He wasn't coming to get me.



And why were none of the people that had always been drawn to me by radiating nurture,
who had trusted me with the most sensitive parts of their lives,
who had confided in me the most painful parts of their hearts,
who had found in me the luxury of vulnerability,
enough to invite me into their own mental breakdowns,
the ones who's tears I had consoled and whose sobs I comforted...
how was I smiling with them every day and not a single one of them had noticed that I was dying.
Why wasn't anybody finding me.
Why wasn't anyone coming to save me.
Where was rescue party.



Day in and day out, of sporadic absenteeism,
I sat at the desk that served as a constant reminder that my vision hadn't quite materialised,
And I resented it's structured.
The box I had been neatly packed into had bread an unbearable claustrophobia.
I could no longer recognise time.
-"you're always late"
How I had wanted to respond to this was "I was at war with myself this morning and the difference between victory and defeat was 10 mins. Please leave me alone".
I responded instead with "life happens".
Which it had.
And so launched my "rebellious attitude".
I wasn't really rebelling, maybe a little.
I was at war with a space I could no longer occupy.
Life was coming at me fast, and again, I couldn't move.
I knew all the practical actions to take,
But I couldn't move.
And I began to resent anyone who spoke of my "rebellion".



No one found me.
No one heard me.
She's young, she's beautiful, she's always smiling, everyone loves her,
there is absolutely no reason to suspect that she might be falling apart.
If only she could stop getting so fat.



"the problem with being strong is that no one ever thinks to ask if you are ok."

But sometimes the hero, needs a hero. "Often the people with the strongest hearts, carry the heaviest ones."



One morning, at my desk a feeling had arrived:
"So do not be afraid for I am with you,
not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand"



Isaiah 41:10.
HE HADN'T LEFT.


I understood why this was my verse, why always gravitated to this verse.
It was for me because fear had held me captive for such a long time.



This was the day I walked into the Dr's room with my trembling hands balled into a fist,
Knowing that something wasn't right, that I need help, but with no idea what to say was wrong.

"How can I help you"
And the words came "I'm overwhelmed"
To which the Dr replied: "It's good that you recognise that. Most people who are, don't recognise it."
One of the items on my prescription was Valium... oh Valium... Valium my Valium.
And for what felt like the first time in ages...I slept.
Like real sleep.
Uninterrupted, rejuvenating sleep.
An incident I remember is when a lady who was my consultant (manager) at the time had called my supervisor and I into her office to yell at us.
This wasn't an unusual event.
For the first minute or so I could hear everything she was saying,
But then something wonderful happened,
It was almost as if my brain had paused after the "re:" and calmly asked my soul "do you want to be bothered by this today?"
To which my soul responded: "Not in the least",
And in turn... my brain zoned out. almost completely.
It was as though I was hearing her speak from underwater.
-a chuckle-
That was what my medication did for me,
It slowed down my thoughts just enough to give me time to decided how I wanted to feel about them.
Before this, I was always buzzing, packing my thoughts onto each other and processing nothing.
Not giving me time to react, to feel... to deal.
Not leaving space for my mind to file anything.
So naturally, something had to give.
How could it not through all that chaos.



I cannot stress enough how getting help has saved my sanity.

And in the process of clearing out the fog, I found a very beautiful assurance:
I was never really alone.



Hi I'm Theri,
And I know what it is to wear your emotions underneath my skin.
There are still days where the hopelessness plagues me,
And sometimes I cuddle into it,
But I have found my own system (that no longer includes medication, and hasn't for more than a year) to ensure I don't setup camp and stay.
In a strange way, I have become friends with my storm.
I lost a bit of time (two and half years to be if we're being technical),
but in a weird way, I think I needed the downtime.
I find I articulate my feelings a lot better now, something I didn't know how to do before.

I still have fights with God and wonder where and why He goes, then I remember "Isaiah 41:10".


I am still unfolding.
Unparalysed.

:)



This is for a friend who's fingers I have watched tremble and who's tears live close to the surface.
I recognise you, because I have been you. I hope you find some light in all these words that have been scary to write.
And in the event that anyone else finds a reflection of their face in any of this unstructured verse, and for all the superheroes who need a hero,
I hope you find the peace you crave. I will write to you more, until the next text... trust in tomorrow.



All my love.

She Lives

Well I’ll be damned… She lives!

 

Ok, I don’t owe a single one of you an explanation concerning why this blog has not been taken care of in all this time,

But, because I do need a bit of fresh content to fill up this post, here goes:

 

I have been unfolding.

 

It’s not that I had taken a COMPLETE hiatus from writing or anything,

it’s just that my writings have been a bit dark and depressing for a while.

A reflection of the mental space I’ve been in.

My journal, however, is an interesting read. I let the fav read through one and after a whole pep talk and motivational chat about how I “got this and it’s gonna be ok”,

the conversation moved to “when’s the next one coming out?” lol, such a charming one that one.

Fav has now read all eight of the releases from my selection of therapy memoirs (written in a time when I lived in a t-shirt printed with bold letters that spelled:

“YOU’RE NOT MY REAL BOYFRIEND”, I was never sure of that shirt).

 

Ok wait you guys… I’m sorry about the beginning bits of this post… it seems a bit harsh now that I think about it.

But “what is done is done, and cannot be undone” said Lady MacBeth.

Again with the drama, Theri, jeez!

 

I would like to say though, I plan to resuscitate my blogger ways, I’m thinking about sharing a few excerpts from my therapy journals.

A prospect I find quite terrifying.

All the entries seem so naked.

 

Maybe in them, any of you may find pictures of yourselves.

Maybe somewhere in between, someone finds a hand to hold on to, how beautiful it is to feel in your time of isolation, that you are not alone.

Maybe, we’ll forgive me for being away so long. I forgive me, lol.

 

I’ve arrived at a patch of life that has flushed me into a river of happiness. I am never sure whether or not it’s real, but at least it feels exciting.

I haven’t felt excited in some time, at least not for long enough to feel I’m getting back a sense of control over my life.

I’m moderately empowered, perhaps I’ll ride this wave with a lot more confidence than normal.

 

Thank you guys for asking (and asking and asking) about when I’m going to attend to the blog.

Though my actions haven’t reflected much optimism, I do appreciate that you all think my thoughts are worth checking up on.

 

I love you guys.

I mean it.

We are now in a relationship.

Such is our involvement with each other.

 

Lol.

 

I’ll keep you  (wait for it…) posted. See what I just did there?

Are you not entertained?!

Ok bye.

 

DON'T YOU HAVE SOME PLACE TO BE?

I grabbed an old pair of jeans and slipped one leg in as though nothing had changed.
My ever so reasonable subconscious self gave a raised eyebrow and a judging pout, stared straight at these plump thighs and then spoke in Maya Angelou's voice (bless her soul): "You know good and well... *pout pout pout*".

But I'm not the typa sistah to a'mitt duhfeat though.

I slipped leg two in and braced myself. Look I knew what time it was the minute I pulled those jeans out the closet. We're up to about below my butt, and then the ninja-yoga-jujitsu type moves begin. After a hop, a skip, a mild squat, some lunging, the hokey pokey and half a twerk... I arrived at the final strategy: If I pull these jeans up while simultaneously moon walking, I really could win this thing.

And win it I did.

Aah Crap! *a heavy whoosaah complete with "end scene" fingers*
I need to pee.

After this I shall opt instead for the black skirt. I cannot for the life of me go through this again. I don't have time. We thank you oh great underwear gods for these firm and lift under dress and panty things.

*rolls eyes* I'm so upset with my sweet tooth right now.

I finally get to work and...

You know that feeling, when you're driving and moving as swift as what the speed limit will allow and at the upcoming T-junction, some morphodite (yes) decides he did not come here for the stop sign, so he and his beat up car turn right into the road... the road you're moving as swiftly as what the speed limit will allow on... and although he can turn in before you get to him, there is absolutely no way his car (which goes from 0 to 60 in 7.5 MILLION seconds) can build up enough speed to avoid you crashing into him. Therefore it is now your duty and responsibility to value both yours and idiots lives, and either slam your breaks dead or, if there is no oncoming traffic, swerve past him, giving a deadly and cold stare hoping he can read (through your smash and grab windows, mind you) that that move was not only stupid and reckless, but also lacked all focus!!! *cringe*

That's the feeling I got in the parking lot when I saw Mr Fantastic (who has a "long term girlfriend" by the way) walk his way to my car.

"Look. At. This. Look at THIS guy. Somebody look at this. This guy thinks he can. He! Thinks! He Can! He can't!!!" (Nota Bene: that "can't" is in actual fact pronounced as caaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnntttt!!!... thank you)

Him: "Hi Theriiii... you know I want your soul!!!"

Jesus please save me. Clearly this man is the devil.

Him: "why are you always in a hurry? Every time I see you you're walking fast"

*as my face drops* "it's you. It is because of YOU"... I thought in the privacy of my impatient mind. We don't say such things out loud. Instead we just smile and say "I don't want to be late".

QUESTIONS FROM HELL!!!

See the thing is, life experience has taught me (and by life experience I mean the existence of captain awesome here) that the minute I get out of my car I need to be a real Jack (as in, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick...yes?), I need to be swift. I need to be agile in order to avoid such interactions as this one. I just need to get from car to office in as short amount of time as possible. So I normally brisk walk. However, today is different. Today is different because my new firm and lift under dress hasn't yet taken shape, and though it is doing a splendid job at lifting my booty, firming my thighs, tucking in my tummy, synching in my waist and lifting my boobies... it also doesn't allow for haste. I cannot brisk walk. Today I have to move with grace and poise. And Grace and poise apparently has to deal with persistent characters.

While he insisted on walking me to my office block all I'm thinking is... if there was ever a time for a meteor to hit this planet... perhaps, just perhaps, it could be now. Now while the guy who has asked me the SAME question at least twice a week, every week, every month for some months now... and I have given the SAME answer every time... is insisting on asking again today. At ten past seven in the morning before I have even had a chance to get a feel of this day. *cringe* what a guy hey.

Thankfully I'd only have to deal with his presence on this earth for only 3 minutes. Or would I...

Now, science has it that heat makes things expand (or at least I think that's how it goes). My body is a thing. And it is hot. Science is saying "relax and expand"... reconstructive undergarment and bra are like "guuuurrrrrllll... you better compress and stay intact". It is an entire war going on underneath this skirt and top and all I have been thinking since midday is "if I can just get home and take these things off and hang around in an oversized t-shirt and just breathe... life will be fine".

But alas, such luxuries are not always possible.

Guess who was loitering around the parking lot come four o'clock in the afternoon...

WHERE IS THE ESCAPE KEY ON THE KEYBOARD THAT IS THIS DAY!!!!

Like can this guy's family members please come and claim him.

*a very heavy sigh of defeat*

Oh well.

Grandma's House.

She's been gone for years my grandma.
But it still never feels like its been that long.
It still always feels like she was just here.

A tear almost treacled down my cheek when mom and I went to her (grandma's) house.
Would it sound too creepy if it felt like she was there? Lol
I hadn't felt her presence this strong since she was actually alive.

Every corner of grandma's yard brings forth vivid childhood memories.
The red doorstep where I got my first hiding...
Because I didn't approve of the lumps in my custard.
(this foodie thing goes back a long way).

The entire left half of the yard, now a spacious, empty gravel...
Used to be lined with rows of golden corn.
My cousin and i spent many a (pre) school holiday adventuring through them.
Oh and there used to be a hedge,
Its lush green, neatly separating the house from the mielies.
A respectful privacy.

She had chickens.
Lots of them. I loooooved feeding them.
I probably would feel way too cool to do it now but when I was five...
"keeeeeeeep keep keep keeeeeeeep keep" was by far the most beautiful song and dance ever.
(*Keeeeep: the sound one makes to attract and communicate with hungry chickens.
Why else would grandma chant this)

One of the rebellious chickens had somehow manage to fly-hop onto my head once.
My first encounter with absolute terror.
Free range chickens have no chill.
I remember I had adopted one of the chicks as a pet.
One day the neighbour's dog marauded the chicken coop an mauled my precious baby to her death!
(my baby could have been a he, I'm not sure. The point is, my golden chick was savagely attacked an killed!)
My first experience with devastation.
Grandma baked me a cake as an offer of her condolences.
My first baking lesson.

Grandma's house was always such an exciting expedition.

In the corner of her quaint kitchen sat a baby blue coal stove.
(ok it's still there... Post electricity hook up)
She didn't really use it anymore,
But she'd light it up and pull a chair up for me to sit there in the winter times,
While I watched her cook.
By far my favorite chef.
In her time, she had worked as a domestic for a Portuguese family.
It showed in her food.
All the other kids (in her hood) were defoz not having rice pudding...Huh-Lowww!!
(*defoz: definitely. In case you missed the evolution of slang).
*finger snap* my grandmas kitchen was. Beast nation bruh!
(except for that ONE time with the lumpy custard. No.)

One holiday, my cousin and I raided the pantry and got into the condensed milk.
(if u never stole condensed milk, might I recommend you consider therapy for your incomplete childhood. I'm just saying)
Hiding number two.
Also, after that the universe sent me a tummy ache for daaaaaaaays!
Grandma fixed me up a remedy.
(boiled egg with the yolk still VERY runny. It worked.)

The big tree to the right of the yard used to be ginormous!
We made one of those rope and pillow swings *a smile*
(I would tell you what we (all black kids everywhere) called those swings. But I don't know how to spell it. It's quite a complicated little word)
Oh the joy!
Many a day spent acquiring ashy skin and scraped knees out there.
Made me stop caring about my bright red tricycle, with the yellow seat and white handle bars.
(only until all the other kids wanted to play with it. Then that bike was out of bounds. I was terrible at sharing my ride)

Every glance, to every corner of the yard had a beautiful image of a colorful childhood. I could also almost see her yelling at us to come into the house before I start coughing.
(I had a mild case of Asthma then. Grandma used to put my business on the streets like that)

I pulled my Aston Martin out the yard and gave a goodbye smile. I had loved reminiscing with her sweet soul.
(*My Aston Martin has a striking resemblance to a Ford Fiesta... But that's none of your business)

We drove past the house where that old man lived on the street behind grandma's.
I cannot recall a time I had ever seen him sober.
Mom pointed to the house and said something really nice about him.
I felt bad. For a large part of my childhood I thought he abducted children.
(by "large part of my childhood" i mean my entire life)
Don't ask why. I don't know.
It's just. The unshaven, grizzly looking, dirty trench coat and brown beret wearing man that walked the neighbourhood streets, mumbling to himself... Fit the bill of a kidnapper.
(yes? No? Maybe?...ok)
I used to be so scared of him.
If I even saw him on our street I'd run into the house.
I now know better.
The struggle had torn him apart.

We drove past the house where one of grandma's "society" gal pals lived.
Bless her soul.
They were so cute those grandmas. They had a uniform and everything.
I used to go to society with grandma.
I knew some of the hymns by heart.
There were always scones and biscuit things. And tea.
(high tea much?)
Mom mentioned the time she and dad picked me up from the house during prayer circle at the end of one holiday.

- "it was the time after you had burnt your leg on the heater"
- "mama how did that even happen?"
- "you were dancing and performing on the coffee table, and you fell next to the heater"

Oh Gahd. I used to dance on tables *sob* this sounds like a low point in my childhood. I must've been going through a crisis. Why else?

- "why didn't anyone stop me?"
- "you refused."

I still have that scar. It's on my right calf.

We drove past the churrrrrch.
*raises roof*
The church where my parents got married.
Where my (older) brother was baptized.
The small Church.
It's bell (the church's) still in good form and apparently still functioning.
Grandma used to dress me in floral tulle dresses and white stockings.
(don't even judge right now. We all went through this. I've seen all your throwback Thursday pics ladies. And those bobby socks with the frilly things and ribbons? Some of you wore swimming costumes over them at pageants... So there)
Why my mother's love allowed itself to purchase white stockings for her beautiful, pretty eyed gem of a daughter is beyond me!
But... A mothers love, no matter what stockings it buys, is a love so pure.
Thank you Jesus.

I laughed until all this was left dotted on my rare view mirror.

25 years old going on 26 ( haaaayyy!!!)
And grandma's house is still a beautiful excursion.
I had missed her.

Her name was Daisy.
So very fitting I think.

Eureka!

"IF YOU FEEL ENERGY AND EXCITEMENT AND A SENSE THAT LIFE IS HAPPENING FOR THE FIRST TIME, YOU ARE PROBABLY NEAR YOUR GOD-GIVEN NATURE"- Mark Nepo.

I read that somewhere...

Rewind a couple of years back to my matric year,
Directing a school play, I think it was the inter-house production (my house won *sticks out tongue*)
I sat in the back of the Grenville High School hall during rehearsals and playfully yelled to the actors: "VOICE PROJECTION!!!"

For about a week, a few grade 8's would murmur those same words when I walked past them,
trying also to mimic my twang. An unruly bunch they were. lol.

June 21 2013... almost exactly a month away from my 25th birthday,
My soul caught fire!!

My universe has always whispered to me the question:
"what are you doing love... What do want?""
and with every year it's gotten more and more impatient with me and started to ask this question more frequently,
each time with a little more authority.

My other self has always responded with a cold: "I'm not too sure, but according to theory,
if you do the school thing and get a degree,it should all eventually come together, somehow.
Not really, but maybe. I don't know... but I'm here aren't I? cliché has it that we all have a purpose. Let's wait and see how it all unfolds."

She's not shy,and she's quite strong willed.
It's just... well she's always been very soft spoken and not too specific about things.
Until today.

"PHUQ everything I've ever felt before... This is by far the realest feeling I've ever been to."

It must have been around 8 a.m,
I had been sitting at my desk for about an hour,
maybe a few minutes more.
Sorting through a file, I landed on credentials that brought my heart to life.

My universe creeped in to bully me with it's characteristic question:
"what do you want love?"

I became one of those actors. From the back of the hall, a director yelled:
"VOICE PROJECTION!!!"

*Note: this voice sounds like Morgan Freeman, lol)

And she (my other self) ROARED!!!
Her soul set itself on fire and got on its feet... chest out, chin up, with feeling... she ROARED!:

"I WANT TO BE A COMMUNICATIONS PROFESSIONAL COVERING ALL ASPECTS OF THE STRATEGIC PR/COMMUNICATION FUNCTION,
FROM STRATEGY DEVELOPMENT AND IMPLEMENTATION TO STAKEHOLDER RELATIONS"

Her eyes lit up.

Are you joking?!
I have never in my life given a more specific, more affirmed and more final answer.
I HAVE NEVER!!!

Most people had decided halfway through high school when it was time to choose subjects.
Not this girl... My plan : "let's take the commerce route, it's broad, we'll figure it out later."

Nothing has ever put into words EXACTLY what it is I want.
Nothing has ever made me feel willing to leave every... Single... Thing behind.

"consider this...would you do it for free?"... the question we're told to ask ourselves when we decide what careers to build.
Nothing, other than this, has ever commanded a definite "YES" as the only answer.
Nothing has ever blurred every other option out.
I have never been more ready to move towards something.
There isn't even a shred of anxiety.

My desk, for which I am both grateful and appreciative of, has plagued me with anxiety.
I haven't addressed this panic... mostly because I have never been able to give myself clear instruction
as to exactly what direction to move in.

This woman's credentials are my revelation.
A whole list of things that spoke to my world.
I feel like I've just been birthed.
It's taken a whole 25 years to take my first breathe.
My ever so illusive "AHA-MOMENT"...
I've arrived at it.
This feels beautiful.

Thank you Jesus.
Smile... You never know who's watching :)

Groupie Love.

Against my better judgement,
I decided to start my workday with a block of fudge and a 440ml can of energy drink.
I was prepared for whatever repercussions would come from this.
(Listen to me carry on as if this is a life changing decision).

I knew the sugar high would be followed by a very serious crash. I knew it!!!
What I wasn't prepared for though, was how fragile I would be when the sugar finally wore off.
I wasn't ready for life to remind me that I am, in fact, not invincible.

So much for the captain planet persona that my liquid confidence brought on this morning.
This power ranger is not go... go going anywhere.
(see what I just did there *nudge nudge..wink wink* go go power rangers...yes? (._.') oh well)

I sound like such a junkie... this is my life post caffeine.

Anyway, I didn't think I would spend what little energy and strength i had left
working very hard to calm the storm of emotion that was threatening to drown me.
I didn't think, I would spend the remainder of the work day fighting to maintain composure.
This gave birth to a heartfelt mantra:
"don't cry... don't cry... compose yourself... don't cry"

The universe peeled back another one of those layers that serve as curtains to our true selves.
I caught another glimpse of me today.

And now... A word from our sponsors:
We realise this is the first blog entry for the year. We do apologise for the lengthy wait. We'll explain... In another blog entry... Soon. This might be lengthy... But we've been gone for a minute, allow us. We thank you.
(I know what you're thinking... "Who's we?"... Well talk to the hand *pouts*)

Back to the matter at hand...

"nothing goes as planned,
everything will break,
people say goodbye in their own special way"

These are words from a song I was introduced to by my music soul mate (lol). "in my veins"- Andrew Belle.And the timing was spot on.

My way of saying goodbye has always been to keep it cool and try to be as impartial as I can.

My job introduced me to an impressive lady.
I had seen her around the premises,
there was always something about her that drew my attention.
She was to me the definition of poise
She walked with purpose and she commanded her presence.

I waited a hundred years before I finally plucked the courage to waltz into her office and let her know I existed.
(well not really a hundred years, I've only been here for a little over a year... and I didn't REALLY waltz... I mean...
that might have come across as inappropriate... a bit).

In my conversation with her, I felt like a little kid who'd just been introduced to a real life rock star.
In that moment, i wanted to take a piece of her and use it to build a better me.
There was a part of me that admired everything she was,
or at least, all she had allowed me to see her as.
(I can see how you'd all be thinking what a groupie i am, lol. Allow me i have found traits i want to keep in just about every lovely person i've met.)

I HAD NO IDEA how much she would mean to me.

Of course I'm not very good at loosing my cool, so I never got around to telling her I was a fan. One doesn't want to be THAT creepy girl at the office you know.

I assumed I would always have her in reachable distance,
I assumed I'd always have access to her.

I assumed I had all the time in the world to learn from her.

We do that a lot don't we.
We forget that we are not the authors of this life,
That we're infact only allowed a moment at the co-ordinates we're in.
Sometimes these moment feels like forever, so we get comfortable.
We assume we have time.

Goodbyes remind us that we only have each other for as long as what heaven allows.

My (first) conversation with her fuelled a fire in me that had been struggling to stay alive. That ambition and hunger that ones mid twenties brings. She didn't realise that she was awakening a dragon. She didn't know that she had been my teacher.

And I hadn't realised how much of her I had absorbed. Until today... When the reality set in that I hadn't capitalised on the bond. I didn't use my time well. I didn't ask enough questions.
I had a hard time looking her in the eye today. My voice shook. That last hug took all of me.

I learnt today how phenomenally the human soul was designed. We were created from and by love. We were left with the instruction to love (...one another as I have loved you). Love is our primary instinct. It's what we know.

I learnt today that love goes where it wants. It chooses whoever it
wants. It lives without our permission.

I've said this before, and I mean it everytime. I am eternally grateful for everyone that God has allowed me to cross paths with. I am thankful for every connection God has forged for me.

And to her... A member of my panel of teachers... I wish all of the happiness in the world. She introduced me to a reflection of my feisty self. She reminded me of how much work I had to do.

God has brought incredible women into my world :)

Shadows of distant loves

I hadn't realised the intensity of how estranged we'd become. I wasn't oblivious to the rift. Bt I had held our friendship safe...... I'd kept a piece of it alive. Still giving life and love to what (I thought) still existed. I hadn't realised how far apart our journeys were moving... I guess I had hoped that somehow the connection would keep itself alive. That regardless of time and of distance, somehow, our worlds would always make way to share each others joy... Each others struggles... Each others lives. I had held on to the memory of where we'd started, so firmly and so dearly, that I failed to acknowledge that whatever purpose I'd served in your life had drawn to its end, and while I kept your shadow in all the monuments of what I held dear... You had grown. And you had outgrown me. This, was my mistake. I take full responsibility for my naivety. And with love, my prayer is that life treats you kind. That happiness continue to rise with you at every day. And if someday our lives should somehow recognise each other, then too, with love... I will honour the movement.

This is a feeling penned down at 02:05 a.m. Or at least, this is the time the full stop made it to the end of the feeling, lol. Trouble sleeping.

02:09 and I am plagued by the realities of somehow having already moved to one day being dismissed as "just an old friend" and then eventually to "just someone from my past".

Developments I respect as natural parts of growth. Natural parts of life. But the reality of outgrowing the roles we play in others' lives and of others' outgrowing the existence of your role in their lives... Though I had always acknowledged it... Had for (truly) the first time left a lump in my throat that at 02:14 a.m... I didn't know what to do with.

I didn't want to be petty. But I couldn't help it. The idealist in me had just been silenced. I had imagined the response to be "it's not like we've been keeping in touch" or "it's not like we've been keeping up". I had somehow made it to the idea that it was only I who was allowed to outgrow. I somehow felt exempted from being outgrown. And at 02:18... I felt selfish. And I was. I didn't want to be... But no matter what evidence life had served, the official notice of insignificance was no easy bite to swallow. And the memo didn't mince its words.

02:21... Backspace a sentence. That ones too deep. It can't make it on here.

I hadn't been able to attend to this notice with the same nonchalance I had been radiating regarding a now week old exit from a relationship. A cold indifference that had resulted in the feeling that nothing ever happened. What had plagued me about this reaction (to the sudden break-up) was guilt I felt for dismissing this end as just an "oh well". I felt as though I should have been a mess. I was expected to be a mess. I hadn't shed a single salty tear, and no one could seem to understand why I seemed to "not be dealing with itl. I couldn't explain the chunk of me that didn't feel like there was anything to deal with. I had packed up my feelings long before the end. A truth that made me feel heartless. But this is another story. A story... For another day. A story I haven't yet summed up the interest to pursue. It may not ever come. I don't know *bbm I don't know face... To lighten the mood... Perhaps*

02:32 a little more of the backspace key, in honour of the ends. And in preservation of all that had been and all that was left.

02:47 the sleep that had left me at 01:15 is slowly asking for me back. Floating in and out of consciousness, I have to finish. If I leave it for later, I won't have the voice to word this out. I have to do it now while I've still caught the creative writing ghost, lol.

We always preach of how everyone comes into our life to serve a purpose. Of how everything happens for a reason. But very seldom do we speak of honouring (with sincere love) the exit of these people when there purpose in our lives has been fulfilled. Very seldom do we acknowledge the freedom of these souls. These precious souls.

I have said this before, I'm sure of it. But I have to say again... To all the beautiful souls that have at any and every point crossed paths with mine. Thank you for your contribution to my development. Whether or not I have consciously taken the time to sift through what these contributions are, I trust without fail that it is all for a greater good. A greater good that holds my best interests at heart. And for that I honour your journeys through the highways of my life..

03:01 and I'm feeling thankful.

And with that, I shall submit to this nagging fatigue. My sleep has arrived.

I love you. All.
Smile... You never know who's watching :)