About Rock Bottom
People have a tendency to throw it in your face when you show them vulnerability.
I write this blog as I am scared of what you will think of me, how you will see me; and some of the harsh things you may say.
However, I also write this with the hope I may inspire someone who is facing their ‘rock bottom’.
The past couple of years have been extremely difficult for me. Life stripped me naked and had me crawling for mercy. I think it all began when I got raped around 2011.
I didn’t tell anybody.
My best friend says that I said something in passing but then avoided the topic. I believe that is when the depression began.
I tried to use my art and music to distract myself and pretended nothing happened. I have a memory of my older sister saying to me she thinks I am going through a depression. I got defensive despite the fact that I was crying every day and couldn’t get out of bed.
On the surface, my twitter account was still fire (as that’s what depressed people do... deflect). In real life, I was losing my ability to manifest. Gigs were drying up and the media was on an active smear campaign with my name. They made everybody hate me.
You may argue that my tweets made everybody hate me. But I would hate to believe that South Africans are so dark that they are attracted to my twitter account for the evil spewed there.
I am a poet.
In isiXhosa I am called imbhongikazi yomthonyama - which means ‘I have a spiritual gift with words that don’t take sides’. I have words that hit the spirit and make people question themselves. A lot of the time, people are not ready to hear what I am saying and yet five years later my writings come up in trending topics on social media.
I have never had to apologize for anything I have said because I stand by my truth relentlessly. I do apologize whenever the need arises but that is usually due to my temperamental nature with my tweeps - not because of the subjects I am raising.
To be quite honest, I hate people who make me feel bad about my twitter account. It has created multiple unspoken mental and spiritual shifts in our society - at times globally. The power of my twitter account is not my doing. It has blessed me and it has cursed me - which is how I know that I’m on the right path.
I started to internalize all the hate. It was not only to you who the media made me unlovable towards. The media made me unlovable to myself as well. And so the depression festered inside the silence of the four walls of my bedroom.
Life is a journey where you have to connect the dots. I was invited to perform at Poetry Afrika when I was thoroughly bleeding in 2014. No money, just sadness. The universe always brings balance. I met a lovely man at Poetry Afrika who was a great guy to date when you’re going through the most.
It was also at Poetry Afrika where I found out I could do my Masters in Writing at Rhodes University, and I was just in time to meet the deadline. Literally, just in time. I didn’t have a cent to my name when I got accepted to Rhodes University. I was banking on a scholarship I applied for. Had I not won that scholarship, I wouldn’t have that degree today.
The universe conspired.
I sold everything I owned to save up money for my move to Grahamstown. A lot of my best relationships were in tatters. This is around the ‘Stoan incident’ on twitter. I had had enough with everything, and in the still of the night, I took the remainder of my life’s possessions and drove to the Eastern Cape.
I put everything in my car, it was packed to full capacity I could barely see through the rear view mirror. I had decided that I was actually moving to the Eastern Cape and after Rhodes University, I would build my career from there.
A year later the Eastern Cape heartlessly kicked me out. I couldn’t find a hustle that side. I was devastated and in denial. It was with my last R400 that I had to put petrol in my car and go back home. There was an angel/stranger who stepped in for the remainder of the petrol money.
I stayed in Dube with my grandmother in 2016; mentally exhausted, drained and depressed about a dead-end career. In hindsight, some magical things happened in that year. For starters, I grew a beautiful veggie garden whilst wondering ‘What’s wrong with my life?’
What I know now is that the Universe was just giving me time and space to rest. For the first time since I was 21-years-old, I was home and spoilt. There was always a dinner plate waiting for me. I didn’t have to struggle for anything.
My grandmother expected nothing from me. Instead, in the first month, she helped me with my car installment. Imagine. My laundry was done for me. I can honestly say that even at rock bottom, there are some cushy areas.
Nonetheless, in early 2017 I was unpleasantly pushed out the nest again. However, in the midst of desperation, I found a beautiful backroom in Mofolo. I had no money and I found the private school of backrooms. It was fully furnished with a big Jacuzzi bath and a glass ceiling. The walls were bright in colour and I had a beautiful peace garden.
My landlady, who later turned out to be my everything, was a former exile with long dreadlocks. A true lover of nature. The woman breathed new life into me. She gave me talks and loads of love. She would send me the most inappropriate WhatsApp messages; showing me crazy meme. She is very carefree.
Funny that was my rockiest bottom, living in a back room and having to wash my dishes in a ‘Ndish’. I love Soweto with all my heart but all I could hear around me was ‘uwile.’ Something I didn’t want to hear.
Pain always makes me work harder. I put all my efforts into the album The Masterpiece and in commercial terms, it was a complete and utmost failure. In spiritual terms, however, it united women in music in the various townships I took the tour to.
It inspired young female musicians and I see them going from strength to strength in their careers. I personally could not have been more proud of that.
So there I was with a flop of an album to contribute to my falling self-esteem.
Not to mention the ‘global citizen’ backlash. Can I admit that I didn’t think people could possibly ever hurt me like that on Twitter? People were so vicious.
I think what hurt the most was your dedication to misunderstanding me. All I was trying to say is that it is inappropriate to show off in front of people you have excluded. It is an action that has a reaction.
“With so many people coming at me
“I just don’t know who to trust anymore
“Can you hear me out there?
“Can you hear me out there?
“I need your intervention
“I can’t take it anymore.”
The universe intervened a month later when Moja Love called me and offered me my dream job as a talk show host. They said it was because of what I was doing with my twitter account with my opinions on social issues. I was vindicated. The same platform which has caused so much hatred brought me my biggest joy.
It is not easy working for Moja Love because TV is new to me as a day job. I have to learn to control my fire and not burn people. However, it certainly beats what I have been through to get here. I remember jogging around Mofolo in the mornings all of last year wondering why ‘ngiwile?’
Little did I know that my inner hot body was getting ready to show off. Have you seen my legs on that show?
I have felt so bad for so many years about the disruption I cause everywhere I go. The older I get I realize that the universe is on my side and none of the ‘drama’ is my doing.
I want the next couple of years to be extremely happy for me.
If you have hit your rock bottom, it’s probably because you are a month away from your dream job.
I remember crying to my niece’s guardian, Nomakhwezi, and she said
“Isinangamuva Liyabukwa.”
-Ntsiki Mazwai (TV Presenter, Musician & Poet)
