It's a day before New Years Eve and I cannot sleep. I'm lying awake starting at the realization that my view of any type of relationship is rather temporary. Suddenly it's scary how admitting to myself how true that AHA! Moment is makes me feel. But the pieces I am about put down here are as clear as they have ever been. I seem to have attracted that which I want the least. I don't want temporary relationships. But yet I treat all relationships in my life as why. I actually seem to think that no one ever really "stays". They all leave. And by "All" I mean my mom, brothers, uncles, aunts, grandparents, friends, lovers... Basically in my mind, the ones I'm ever truly fond of never really stay. And that's just sad. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach writing this because I thought that losing those people was supposed to mean I'm stronger than your average. But I'm so weak at the prospect of someone just loving me for me. Just. And just wanting to stay. Stick around for the not so nice stuff. And stuff. And this is where I am with everyone in my life right now. I've increasingly preferred my own company over the past 5 years because I didn't think anyone would ever want to stay. They too must leave at some point. Isn't that how the story goes? The relationships? Pretty much the same frequency - I expected them to leave and they eventually did. To other people who probably wanted them to stay a whole lot more. From my birthday on the 2nd of June in 1990 (that far - I was turning six), my mom received news that her younger sister and only sibling she actually grew up with, aunt Joyce had died in hospital. Something to do with her heart failing. How, when we were so close? But I understood it all as they told me. Death. Her never coming back. The whole thing. And with her is where I had spent a lot of my school holidays until then. She had given me the baby sister I had been begging my mom to "get us". I learnt to love babies watching my cousin, Siko from birth. Learnt to carry babies on my back with her as the Guinea pig. Taught everything I knew at the age of 5 going on 25. I thought I would teach her everything. Anyway, I digress. Point is, the first major rug in my life got pulled. And there were no more school holidays babysitting. A room in my mental castle totally desalinated. So there I was growing up. Joined to the hip to my brother, Terrence. UMthabisi as we called him at home. And that sums him all up. He brought all the laughter in that home. I had him high up on a pedestal for how smart, charming, talented, funny I wanted to be when I really grew up. I could paint you the full picture of Mthabisi but I think that's another piece / book. We made promises to each other when I went away to spend time with my paternal grandparents on what I'd bring him and what surprise he would have for me when I got back. He was one of my first truly best friends, when I come to think of it. The year I turned 13, a few days after my birthday - my dad's youngest brother was shot and killed in Johannesburg. Now, he and I got along so well. He taught me sarcasm along with real good - what we now call old school "international" music. From Lionel Richie to George Benson we would sing along to in his Ford Sierra on every single trip. Even if it was just just Maponya supermarket up the road. I had seen him on most school holidays since 1994, when my exiled father returned and could now move freely thus being able to take me back to South Africa to spend time with my paternal family. It was in this year that a 4 year friendship just abruptly ended - and I was no longer "Googlings" to anyone. This meant I had to go to Johannesburg for the Christmas school holiday. As usual, Mthabisi and I went through our rituals. He was buying me a Fila jacket to match his and I would find it in my too when I got back. I was leaving to go and deal with the grief of uncle Mandla's passing and he promised me I could handle it. And I would tell him all about it when I got back. Then on Boxing Day in 1997, I had an out of body experience sitting there listening to my dad saying there had been an accident back home. A terrible car crash in which Mthabisi and another cousin of mine had died. Yes. So I asked him to repeat that a few times. Was it a terrible prank and someone would yell "Just Kidding"? Not a chance! The sound of this room in my mental castle crashing shoulder like that of a mass demolition. I was in such shock that it took a couple of days before I could even get on a plane to Bulawayo. I was in a daze between asking whether they had called the hospital to ask if he was ok then crying uncontrollably for long periods of time. I got home and fell apart such that I never attended the funeral. I eventually saw it all on video. And again. He was never coming back. Ever. In fact, I only started dreaming of Mthabisi when I turned 25. With good reason, at that. And I think from there it seemed to go downhill. All my grandparents. Cousins. I got numb at some point. I just leaned on my mother. As I grew older ours became less of a temple of fire dance where she grounded me every other week to more of friends. I was a real mummy's baby. My heart beat for her and she confided in me in ways I don't know if I will ever experience again. We leaned on each other at All these funerals. The most being in October and December 2009. Good God! *grab tissues now* In October 2009 my late aunt Joyce's youngest of two daughters was killed in a horrible car crash while on a school trip. Now at 23 I immediately owned up to rushing to mom's side. It was me and her. I just knew what it had done to her to have to go and identify Pamela in the hospital. And because my siblings were already scattered all over the world - it was my duty. I watched my mother break down in a way that shattered my heart. Pamela was 10. My aunt had died soon after having her. It's hard to bury a child as a child yourself. You question the world and everything in it. It's harder to watch your mother technically burying Yet another child. And like hell was exploding in my world, on the 28th of December - three months later, my brother Joe who had just turned 40 at the beginning of December collapsed in the bathroom his London home only to be pronounced dead on the way to the hospital. I had visited him in May of that year. Our connection had been renewed such that I believe that I felt him "leave" that day. I couldn't break for a good 5mins and it stopped when my sister in law- his wife, called to say it had just happened. That's the story I chose to believe. That we had that kind of connection. I felt He left me too at that precise moment. And visiting him could never happen again. I have never been around as much pain as I was surrounded by from October 2009. I thought my mother would actually die of heartbreak. I knew that was a real thing. In fact I knew that not even I could handle the physical pain that the heartbreak came with. When Joe's remains were eventually repatriated for burial back in Bulawayo, my family experienced Mthabisi's and Pamela's passing anew. I prayed that this was the last of it. The 3 months and 23 days after that funeral saw me become accustomed to chatting to mom every other day. Long calls, or texts with juicy family gossip almost silenced our pain for 5 minutes. Then there the emails from her when it was a full on scoop or a much needed the pep talk when I was going through doubt, experiencing fear or just a downer. She would call and pray with me on the phone when I could not sleep. I just watched her live for her living family - especially her grandchildren. She actually went from nice granny to the one who doting on them and spending all her time with them. Then came her newly acquired hunting safari. She launch a full scale attack on this new project. Driving 6 - 7hrs on her own to check on everything. She seemed ok. Playing tennis, having dinners with her brother. She just seemed so determined to live! To me she piled on all the things she wanted me to know about how much she loves me, how great I will turn out - she was surreal. Almost like listening to God Himself at times. Then during a dream in the early hours of the 24th of April 2010, where has seen myself standing at an accident scene with my nephew Marvyn, I woke up to a phone call. My cousin Jabu in Bulawayo was on the other end saying that my mom had just died in a car accident. That was the end of it all, I think. I have lost it before. But this was something out of a horror movie. I had wished to "die" for a minute for other stupid things before. This was a real prayer for weeks asking God to leave her and take me. That, my friend is your heart ripping out of your chest without an anesthetic. God hated me. I was sure. I clearly did not deserve people so they left. Somehow the story advanced to it all being my fault. I Was the common denominator after all. Right? And right there, in the culmination of 10 years of loss, I became petrified of growing roots of any kind - in a place, apartment, work, friendships, some family members. (Ok, Most of my family) I just allowed myself to slip away from myself by just being uninvolved. It would lessen the pain. Soften the blow. And because I thought I had gained some invincible super power for getting through it all and not dying of heartache - I would be fine because I survived. Wrong. I have described these losses in such detail because, a. I actually hope someone, somewhere will some day read this and catch a glimpse of hope but also take caution. And b. I realize the importance of allowing ourselves to actually FEEL things through and not just think them through. I had to shed these few tears writing this, because by starting to recount it, therein own my lesson in how - what I thought was thick skin from pain is actually a hinderance. I am sitting here because I started with one question that became a whole audit. Like, why do I never visualize and plan further into the future than just a year or two? Why do I still take things year by year for such a big dreamer as I? Why have I lost touch with this or that person? Why can't I look forward to long futures with virtually anyone? Why is my default to handling disagreements or dealing with my unhappiness in a situation always to just "Leave it! I don't need it/them in my life." What guarantee do I have that any of these people will or actually Want to just leave? I mean, can you spell giving up your power in 4 letters? (Clue: it starts with a G. I joke.) Things have "happened" to me and I felt I deserved to get comfortable in a 25 year long pity party disguised as "strength and resilience". So I'm calling myself out right now. 21hrs before the New Year. I don't have a detailed "Iyanla Fix My Life" strategy or intervention ready. I just want to commit to doing better by me just for getting myself to this point. This has been a self-indulgent piece because I deserve one last pity party for this nervous little condition of mine I dined and slept with for so long. We all can use the perspective though. I am a highly emotional Gemini who literally lost touch with her feelings. I've had imposter feelings building more imposter feelings. But I have felt myself here in 3hrs and 33mins of writing this. Add the 30 odd hours of therapy I have sat through in the past 2 years - trying to actually crack this lost feeling I had attached to myself. For that, I can only have ONE New Year's resolution for 2016. I will do better by me. I will feel my way through it. All of it. If not just bring vulnerable to being loved by all of the universe and loving it back without fearing its possibility of leaving me.
titsay
andulkaphoto
areudirty
gamechangershow
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
