Category Archives: stuff

look

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I can’t talk to you if you don’t look at me. To me it is as if you don’t hear me. I know we all think we are good at doing lots of things at once ( I hate the word multitasking, because its crap) but I absolutely believe then we don’t really do anything well at all. And sometimes good enough is good enough and that’s just life.  But I think whatever you are doing deserves all your attention. Or none at all. Just for that moment. And it is possible. Just stop doing everything, the world won’t stop. B loves my most favourite quote of all time and throws it back at me often. As he should. ‘Be still. Cease your relentless participation’. That’s why its all become a bit shitty and fucked up. We are all so busy doing everything we don’t focus on anything. Or anyone. Surely we should respect each another enough to just focus on each other. Just for that moment.  If you are a parent, I bet you have all had that moment when your young child put their little hands on both sides of your face and made you look at them and listen to them. I can just picture my face getting all squished as Kate or Jem physically forced me to look at them. To focus on them. How exquisite. Really. Well, that’s what I feel like doing to everyone. I need you to respect me enough to look at me when I talk to you. And don’t let me get on to those who look over your shoulder to see if they’re missing out on anything. Cease. Just for a moment. I am here. Right now. Look at me. And see me. Or move on. My family know this. Just this morning B covered Jem’s eyes while I was trying to get her to listen to me. I need to see her eyes. I need her to look at me so I know she has heard me. They thought it was hilarious. I didn’t. Well, not really.

thing

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I have a friend who skydives. And so does her son, who is 11. And in Jem’s grade. For some reason this came up over breakfast, and Jem wondered how he was not scared to do it. I replied probably because he’s grown up with it. For him it just is what you do. To him it isn’t different, it just is. His family does it and so does he. It’s a fairly adventurous family thing I went on to admit, but for him it would be the same as the family who play tennis together, who cycle together, who hike together or like us, who …. shit,  I couldn’t think of something to say. By way of an example. We play tennis, some of us but not as a regular family thing. We kayak, some of us but not as a regular weekend family thing. We walk, some of us, but not as a regular weekend family thing. We beach, but no longer all together so it’s not a regular weekend family thing. Shit, what is our family thing. I finally lamely settled on, just like us, we do breakfast out together as a regular family thing. Jem sort of looked at me. Clearly not a good enough example. Oh, well, stuff it, it is what it is, and thats our thing. We share ourselves with each other. Over breakfast out. That’s our family thing and I think that’s damn fine.

why me?

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Why me? Actually why not me? I’m big on taking responsibility at the moment. Sometimes life is cruel. But it is not someones else’s fault or responsibility. It just is. And the responsibility is with you. We all have a choice. In how we respond. And to learn from it. And to change. To be the change. I am also very much about moderation. Some might call it fence sitting. Well, thats them. For me, its keeping an open mind, and not being absolute about anything. I often envy those who believe so absolutely in something, that for them there is no other way. I am thinking a lot about this especially in relation to cancer. Not only because I’m heading home soon for a reality check, but also because a friend of B’s is suffering. His partner has no time left. She has throat cancer that they treated themselves by attacking the acidic/alkaline ratio in her body. Some would say it was stupid, some would say it was brave. We are not here to judge but to learn. But it is very very sad. I threw everything at my cancer. I was too scared not to. Well, first time round I refused to accept it. I went for opinion after opinion after opinion until I got the opinion I was able to deal with. My holy grail. It was all about control driven by fear. But, I didn’t give up.  I also didn’t learn.  Second time round I decided not to fight so hard, because the very thing I fought against first time round came to be. And then some. So, second time round, I chose to accept and do what was required. I still didn’t give up, but definitely relinquished a bit of control. But I still didn’t learn. I can only now be thankful that the opportunity to move here came at a time when I wanted it least but needed it most. And I can only now be thankful to B for seeing what I needed. Only now can I begin to take some responsibility. Not for manifesting cancer, but for not putting me first. For getting ‘caught up in superficial achievements, goal-hitting, and daily drama’.  For not looking after my wellbeing. We all have cancer cells. It is our responsibility not to create an environment in which they need to grow. To look after ourselves. To take responsibility. I chose to deal with the symptoms, but only now am I dealing with the cause. Every single day there are moments, big and small, when things happen we don’t really like, stop for a minute and before you blame someone else, take responsibility for your part in it.  It’s actually quite liberating. I haven’t yet got to the place where I see my disease as a blessing. But I’m getting there.

salute

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When life isn’t great, you really know who your friends are. I do agree with this, and I know a lot of my friends are feeling it right now. And that sucks. To know you can’t always count on people you thought you could. But what I find even more interesting are the friends that are only there when your life isn’t great. When you are suffering. When you are sad. When you are ill. When you are struggling. There is a name for this, where your friends almost take ownership of your suffering. On a compassionate level, I am sure it makes them feel worthy. And it is sad that they feel they are only better when others aren’t.  As soon as you seem to be handling, and god forbid exceeding, they disappear. And not in a noble Florence Nightingale kind of way. How sad is that.  So to all my friends, those present, those absent, I salute you for all that you are, and once were to me. And hope you find happiness within.

expectations

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We made a conscious decision when we came here not to actively seek out other South Africans. To not live in an African enclave. Many expats do that and thats cool. But we knew the only way we could survive being here was for us to embrace the difference. So there was no real basis for comparison. To live a new life, not try and emulate our life back home and then be even sadder when it was just not the same. To rather celebrate the difference. And learn from it. And that’s worked for us. Many Africans are seen as arrogant here, primarily because they don’t integrate. They keep to their own. In fact, I have been rejected on occasion purely on the basis of being a South African, and the assumption that I have an air about myself. Or maybe it was just because I say fuck a lot. Or maybe I do have an air about me. Whatever. I don’t think we have an air about us, but I do think we expect a lot. From ourselves, our friendships, our interactions. And I think that’s a good thing. But maybe sometimes we expect too much, and I for one am definitely learning that. To be still and have less expectation. Of others.  I am still very happy living in my not purely African enclave, but have to say every time I am with my fellow South Africans, I do feel at home.

challenge

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I read recently about a challenge to be politer and kinder in how you speak to your partner and your children. Not to take them for granted, to be grateful for all they do and not what they don’t do. To be aware of every interaction. It is ridiculous how we treat perfect strangers better than we do our own family sometimes. And I know the flip side is that home is a safe place to be, where we can sometimes vent and show our not so nice side. Where we are loved no matter what. But we can also try be better. To be aware that its not ok to be impolite to those you love the most. Just because you can. But whilst I believe in being the change and taking the lead I challenge any parent of a teenager to do this. I challenge myself every morning. You see, my consistent theme remains … most of the stuff we all know, most of the stuff we all try do, so don’t beat yourself up if you don’t.  Because if we’re honest, nobody is perfect. Nobody gets it right all the time. Especially not the parent of a teenager. But I will keep on trying. I have to keep reminding myself that Kate and Jem’s teenage and preteen behaviour is not about me. It just is. I just happen to be there. All the time. I wish I’d remembered that this morning when as I was discussing with Kate the merits of letting, or more to the point, not letting her friends come home to the empty apartment after a party on the river, she got up from the table went into the bathroom and shut the door. Okay, so maybe I was lecturing rather than discussing, and maybe I do go on a bit, but I mean, I was mid sentence. She didn’t even think. She had just had enough of the conversation. As much as I breathed and reasoned, I was not polite when she emerged. But I did manage to stop myself from beating down the door. She had got the point, and moved on. With a knowing air of disdain. Would she do that to a stranger. Never. Because she is a lovely polite girl. Just not always at home. But then, nor am I. So, we are taking up the challenge. We will be conscious of how we talk to each other, how we behave towards each other, how often we thank each other and how much we take each other for granted. And especially how much we ignore our mother.

rat

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This was one of those big picture moments masquerading as a little picture. Chatting to Jem about the realities of what today might hold. That Jayde may not survive the day.To some Jayde may just be a little rat. Eeew. But to Jem she is love. She is the sweetest, cutest little creature, with a twinkle in her eye and an air of mischief about her. She knows Jem, she has her favourite spots in the house, her favourite areas to curl up, her favourite spot to be tickled. She comes when she is called, travels everywhere on Jem’s shoulders and grinds her teeth with pleasure when she is cuddled. And my little Jem understood when I told her this morning this is what love is. When you love someone so much you will do whatever you need to do for them even if it makes you sad. When you love someone more than you love yourself.

share

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This again. I had a chat this weekend about the one thing that keeps coming up since I started sharing some stuff. The notion of honesty. Well more of being honest. Of sharing truth, that isn’t always flattering. And how taken aback some people are by it. I think my thin blog made some people uncomfortable, cos it’s just not cool to admit to being that self absorbed when the issues the world face are so vast. I agree. But we are and we do. If only we had the courage to say so.  It would make it so much easier to be ourselves, to be kind to ourselves, if we didn’t have to keep up with the often dishonest realities of our perfect friends. Those who seem to have the perfect lives, with the perfect relationships and the perfect attitudes to weight, religion, work, education, their children, discipline etc etc. According to what they share they never put a foot wrong. Bullshit. It would be so much kinder if we all shared, not only how we wished we were, but how we really are too.  I really do love B and who we are and I wish we were always kind to each other but sometimes we just suck at this relationship stuff.  We didn’t talk nicely to each other this whole weekend. I can’t really remember why, something about him not going to  Dan Murphy’s when I wanted him too and me not taking my tablets for three days. And that was before he told me he was off to Adelaide for the week. I didn’t need to share that with you, and probably some of you wonder why I did. I’m not sure. Just because its the truth, and maybe someone will feel better about being a little off centre too. That’s just life. Let’s be kinder to each other by dropping the pretence. It’s such a waste of time.

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thin

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Just when I’m sitting back smugly looking at how far I think I have come, and not only geographically, I come down to earth with a bump. What is it with the fact that no matter how much I feel I have achieved, how much wiser I am, it all goes out the window momentarily over something so trivial. This morning I fought with everyone. Jem because I felt she hadn’t told me everything about when some schoolwork was due, Kate because I had to tell her three times to clean her bathroom, and B, because I felt he undermined me while I was so justifiably going off at the girls for such unforgivable acts. The truth is it wasn’t about any of that at all, it was about the fact that I gained 1kg. To put it in context I am consistently 7kg heavier than I was comfortable being previously due to a cocktail of menopause, femara, zoladex and lexapro. And I have made peace with that. And with the fact that all the damn exercise in the world I do, just keeps the creep at bay.  Or so I thought. What a brat I became today. Why does it matter so much. I used to say I was happiest when I was thin and hungry. And I was. And unhealthy. Then I grew up. Yeah. Now I’m neither. But I am happy. And healthy. So, how can 1kg matter so much? How can it derail me like that? And I know, as do we all, that how you feel inside is what matters, that I am healthy, that I am fit, that my current problems are golden, that it’s not about how you look but how you behave. I have so much to be grateful for. Am I really that shallow. Honestly, and I really shouldn’t admit this, given everything, if you want to make my day, tell me I look like I’ve lost weight, don’t tell me how fit or heathy or happy I am looking. But I have moved on a little, because even though I felt grumpy and frustrated this morning, I’m still having heaps of butter and peanut butter on my toast today. Because it makes me happy. And I know deep down, being happy matters more to me than being thin. Deep deep down.

my dad

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I love my dad. He is genuinely the world’s best dad. Growing up he guided us with so much love and tolerance, now that I have my own kids I am in awe of his patience. He was kind, he was firm and he was fair. He never shouted at us, but we knew when he was displeased. He treated us with utmost respect and care, so much so that we grew up in a solid, safe and kind world. He made us believe that we mattered. He always had time for us. No time, no matter how much pressure he was under, was a bad time.He loved and loves my mom, which is probably the best gift any father can give his kids. To love and respect their mother. And yes vice versa. He made us believe we were good enough to do anything we set our minds to. He never made me feel I had disappointed him. Ever. He always told me when things got too much, not to panic, because panic or not, the outcome will be the same. I was blessed to grow up in a world with my dad as my father. I still am. He’s still making me believe I can do anything. That my attitude, my will is everything. Well Dad, right back at you.