When my husband and I entered into a relationship, it was the most amazing feeling of arriving home! Gone was all my insecurities, and struggles of being alone. We started our relationship on a Sunday evening in 2001, and on the Monday I saw him at work. I had a string of failed relationships behind me and felt a bit cautious. I mentioned to him that he was welcome to visit me after work. He accepted and came over that evening. He stayed with me, keeping me company, not taking advantage of me. And every night after that he was there. Nine months later we were married. He has never made me doubt his love for me. He is calm where I am passionate. He is a carer by nature, caring for me, and for our children. Patient and kind. I was blessed the day he entered my life. And chose to stay.
Tag personal
I Did It!

Two weeks ago I wrote an exam, and failed by two questions. I am fortunate enough to have an understanding manager who sponsored a retake for me. And today, two days before Christmas, I passed! Yay! Now I get my headspace back, head from out of a 500-page study guide.
It has been mentioned by two different people in the past week that I have tenacity. I have never used that word before. So it is a bit strange to hear it twice in one week. But I passed, and I am glad! And relieved 🙂
Voices
This morning my oldest friend (from when I was thirteen) called me instead of texting. We had a brief connection where we could speak for awhile. She is in Johannesburg, and timezone difference make it somewhat more difficult than texting. Afterwards, she texted me and said it was so nice just to hear my voice. This evening I listened to an interview of an online friend of mine. It is the first time I heard her voice. And it sounded exactly like I thought it would sound! When my mother passed away, I remember thinking I will never hear her voice again! But I do. I hear it in my dreams. Our voices are a gift. It allows us to express ourselves. Yesterday I said words that expressed my soul. And today I was left wondering, why did I say those things? Because it was the only way my soul could express itself. Each soul is unique. Including mine. And that is okay.
Defeatist vs Gratitude
It was commented to me by a friend today that practicing gratitude on one level is being defeatist, and that I am it. Instead of being more assertive in what I would want, and not want, I rather accept any crumbs thrown my way. I thought about a conversation I have had recently with someone else, and I had started off with a fiery opinion. After a few choice words from the recipient, I lost all my fire and traction I had in the beginning. So I admitted to my friend, yes I guess I am defeatist. Yeah, look at you, I was told, even being defeatist about being defeatist.
Baby Shrine
While out cycling today, we came across a little shrine of teddy bears. One year ago a newborn baby was found abandoned in this drain. Fortunately, there are many cyclists cycling by, and the cries of the baby were overheard. He was rescued and placed into the care of the state.
Claustrophobia
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”
You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
I’m locked in a room with my greatest fear. Well, that in itself would be one of my greatest fears. Being locked in a room alone. Or stuck in an elevator. Or in a bathroom with a door handle that’s failed, and windows with bars over them. Or locked in a room with the dead body of your partner.
A few weeks back I read a heartwrenching article on the genocide happening to South African farmers. On one farm an elderly couple and their visitor were attacked. They were ordered to open their walk-in safe. The wife was shot dead in the back of the head, and all three were locked in the safe, including the body of the murdered wife. The visitor and husband were rescued the following morning when someone stopped by and heard their cries.
Imagine being locked in a dark safe, no windows or water, and with your partner’s dead body? Someone you’ve spent your life with, and created children and memories together. Is there anything on earth that could be worse than that?
Frivolous Spending
Recently I have been challenged to consider my belief systems, and long-held ideas that form part of who I am. I have always ‘played it safe’, not taking unnecessary risks and trying to live responsibly. A.k.a suppressing my inner self. Last week I booked overseas flights that were being advertised on a sale, and have been trying to plan a holiday. In between all of this, I have been struggling with feelings of guilt. Growing up, my family were not wealthy. My mother had to budget responsibly, as did my grandmother. My mother-in-law was the same. So an unnecessary overseas family holiday falls squarely in the ‘frivolous spending’ category. A family member with whom I shared my plans, used that exact term – cautioning that frivolous spending can add stress to a marriage. My husband has been fairly quiet on the matter, not telling me that I am evil and shouldn’t have acted so impulsively, but if we are indeed going then he would like to see Yosemite. Because what’s the point of going and not seeing Yosemite. (One night or two, my darling? Two will be better. Done!) But I still can’t shake the feelings of guilt. My father could use the money. He has health issues. We could save the money. Keep it rather for a rainy day. Yes, so it can water our graves when we are dead and buried and pushing up daisies. A trusted colleague at work was a bit more kind – get over yourself and give yourself a break, you both work for goodness sake. And it’s family memories and time that cannot be redeemed at a later date. It is a different viewpoint from what I have been brought up with. And just as valid. Now for me to accept it!
West Coast USA!!!
Memory Lane
I came across these pics yesterday. Twelve years ago and I was so in love with my baby! Who has now grown to be taller than his mum, and is no longer a beautiful baby boy. #bringbackmybaby. When I saw these photos I thought of how young and idealistic I was, and how I have changed since then. My mother-in-law has passed, but my daughter has arrived. Johannesburg is then, Sydney is now. And twelve years later I write poetry to help keep myself sane. Well, relatively sane, I still have meltdowns – last week I had a meltdown of note and still trying to recover. When I see these pics I feel saddened by how I have let myself down, but am glad I discovered writing.
And I still don’t wear contacts or reading glasses, yay!
Falling in Love

Age 22, looking over at my first true love
I fell in love when I was nineteen. It was crazy hectic. I used to listen to this song on the radio in the afternoons. While I was supposed to be studying. I instinctively knew not to chase him away. I let him come to me. It was the best time of my life. My life’s not over yet. Maybe I will get more best times.




