How cruel is....

…when I finally get a job interview with a company that I have been dying to work for, spent all night preparing for it, wake up the next day incredibly excited, do myself all up, arrive on time feeling confident and positive....

only to walk in the door and see the girl that tormented me for three years straight when I was in primary school...who has now worked her little biddy up to be the executive PA to the owners.

I spent three years from Grade 5 to Grade 7 being this girl's punching bag and she relentlessly picked on me for EVERYTHING from the shape of my body to my intelligence to my family. Looking back I realise the bullying was borderline sexual harrassment. I went into puberty very early, I started developing breasts at nine and I got my first period a week before my eleventh birthday. I went to a small private school where there was some hormonal freak show happening: not only was I developing early but the rest of the girls in my grade were late developers. Seriously, by age twelve pretty much every single one of the 22 girls in my grade still had a flat chest and that was like, soooo cool. The way they treated me you would have sworn that I was the only girl in the history of planet earth to sprout a pair of boobs. Never mind that they were all heading the same way in the boob department they were all disgusted (that is the best way I can describe it) by my boobs.

Although the boys took part in some of the teasing it was mostly the girls and it was relentless. When I was eleven I got at most two or three hours of sleep at night because I would lie awake with my stomach full of knots knowing that day after day I would have to go back into the "boxing ring" where I was called endless amounts of names, have songs made up about me, have to deal with being held down while someone would attempt to open the front part of my uniform. I would throw up before swimming lessons because I knew that my swimming costume would show up everything I was trying to hide. And then there was the dilemma of actually changing into said swimming costume. The teachers would not allow me to change in the bathroom stalls, no I had to change in front of everybody else because, "If you don't hide it, they won't tease you about it". What idiots.. That just meant that they would take my tog bag and throw it out the window so I couldn't change back into my clothes, or they would take my bra and throw it to each other in some sadistic game of piggy-in- the- middle. I would get my skirt lifted up to see if I was wearing a sanitary pad and I would get hit and punched in the chest.

If this all wasn't bad enough I had a learning disability, all my life and even now that I am at university I have had to work my butt off just to get a mediocre C aggregate. My family was poor- my parents broke their backs to put us through that school so we didn't have the Mercs or the BMW's or live in big fancy houses. I had very few clothes all cheap and crappy stationary for school.

This girl... let's call "F", she was the school's superstar. She was the class boffin, she was one of the top gymnasts in our province and was in numerous sports teams. She was from a wealthy family who owned an apple farm outside of town. Her parents had nice cars, she had a wardrobe stacked full of the best clothes and she travelled the world with her family. Her mother was also on the board of directors at the school and knew everything about my unstable, dysfunctional family and our financial troubles ( at one point my sister and I had to be given a bursary because our parents could not pay the school fees).

So F was pretty much the ring leader in that whole sordid mess. She treated me like I was a disease. She found joy in describing my body in the most disgusting ways, she mocked me when I struggled to do the same Maths sums that she flew through. And she would inform my classmates of the embarrassing details of my family- her mother was a nice well- meaning lady but a real ditz, as I can only think she let F know those details accidently.

F and I went to different high schools and I would see her occasionally. When I left South Africa in 2004 one of the things I took comfort in is that I would never have to see F again. I last heard she went to university and then became a steward for a private yacht company. Of all the bloody companies in South Africa that she had to work for, she had to choose this one. When I walked into that office and saw her all the air left my lungs and my face became like fire. It's been 15 years, I am 28 now have been through so much, have achieved so much and am a completely different person. But the minute I saw F I felt like an eleven year old little girl again. She gave me a fleeting glance took a look at my C.V/ Resume like it was chewing gum and floated to the back of the office. I stumbled my way through the interview.

Seriously, this is not supposed to happen!. What I have heard happening to everyone else- they get bullied at school by the cheerleader or football captain. They go on and turn out to be beautiful and hot, earn a tone of money and then come across their nemesis 20 years later either a broke divorced mother of three or a used car salesman who had to drop out of university. But F is still coming out tops even to this day. While I am still struggling. Her bullying me was never dealt with directly. I mean come on...her mother was on the board of directors, she was the schools poster child. My mother believed that I needed to fight my own battles and that what was happening to me was a part of growing up ( she now regrets this ) but when she did finally get involved the class was given a talking to by the teacher and told that if anyone else picked on me they would be sent to the principal. F never had to answer for what she did.

And what’s worse is that she probably doesn't remember any of this now. It is not affecting her at all. And I can't hold something against her that happened when she was still a child and didn't know any better.

If I do somehow miraculously get this job I am going to have to once again face her every single day. If I don't get this job, well she'll just continue to think that I am a looser. And right now I really do feel like one.

I'm Back! - The reason I disappeared

So I privatised my blog for two weeks. I needed to get rid of someone and basically correct a massive oversight on my part, regarding a post I wrote over a year ago. I have always believed that honesty is the best policy so I will be laying bare exactly what happened. It started with  a comment that I received on a post about the TRE exercises. Unfortunately when I deleted the post, the comment went with it otherwise I would have put it in this post. The comment was from Dr Melanie Salmon, the National TRE co-ordinator for Africa. She titled the comment with STEPHI and FELLOW BLOGGERS BEWARE! and then proceeded to write that the TRE exercises should only be considered several weeks in therapy and with the approval of a doctor. She continued to say that TRE should not be done by people with "certain conditions" (she didn't specify what). She went on to say that TRE should ONLY be practiced with a qualified TRE pactitioner and the patient should only be allowed to do the TRE exercises on their own after several sessions. The reason for this she said that TRE could produce some reactions that could alarm a person if they were not in a controlled environment. She then went on (and on...) about the TRE exercise material being under strict copyright and basically said that I was risking being sued.

I published this comment because I thought that if what she was saying was true people who had read this post needed to know. I wasted half a day at work where I did a massive google search trying find any possible dangers of TRE. I found none. The day after this message was posted I was rather alarmed when I received a call from my psychologist. I couldn't answer because I was at work. In her voice message she asked me to call her back urgently about the "TRE training". This is where I became furious because I realised that this Dr Salmon had traced my identity and was in contact with my psychologist about my blog post. I immediately deleted the post. I realised that this woman had been reading my blog extensively (judging by the amount of information she had on me) and since she was knew who I really was, I privatised this blog to rid of her and her employees. I then got HER e-mail address, copied my Dad on it (since his legal knowledge is boundless) and sent her the nice e-mail below: Dear Dr. Salmon, I am the person who posted the step-by-step instructions on my blog. Thank -you for the information you gave me. I want you to know that I have deleted that post and will be making my blog private. I will also do a post about the possible dangers of the TRE exercises. I do apologise for my irresponsibility but the post was written nearly a year ago during an extremely emotionally difficult and traumatizing time and I admit I was none the wiser to the copyright restrictions. I thought since stuff like yoga and relaxation exercises etc are available every where on the net. I must tell you am very upset and disturbed not only because my privacy was violated by you tracking down my identity through my psychologist ( I would have deleted that post regardless) but also because I was not, at any time warned about the dangers of TRE when I was taught the exercises. Had I known that TRE could be harmful I would never have posted it on my blog, I would have questioned twice about doing the exercises myself and I would not have done these exercises with my six- year old cousin. My psychologist (who by the way was an excellent practitioner) has been in contact with me and says she should have been more explicit. However I don't feel that it is her fault. It is the responsibility of whoever trained her to make her aware of the dangers of doing TRE without supervision and how to inform potential clients. As you are the National TRE co- ordinator I would think that would be your responsibility. It seems that you are more worried about the copyright. Patients should be given more information and be WELL informed before they start of what they can experience with TRE and what they can and cannot do with the information. I question twice about this information being available to the mass on DVD's. Sincerely And the Dr Salmon herself sent be an equally lovely reply: Dear Stephanie Thank you for your email and for removing the step-by-step Trauma Release Exercise instructions from your blog. Just to let you know that I did not track your identity through your psychologist. My Admin Manager did a Google search on 'Trauma Release Exercises' and came across your very public blog. On your web site your refer to Dr Shaw and therefore it was obvious as to whom you had done TRE with, as all our Practitioners are well known to us. All our Trainees go through extensive training, which includes potential problems that can arise from doing TRE with or without a Practitioner. Our Practitioners are trained as to what they should do should a problem arise during a session with a client. Clients should be seen through several appointments before they are given the exercises to do on their own. The reasoning behind this is to ensure that the Client has reached a safe place with TRE and that they will be able to tremor on their own without a major problem arising. This is basic Level 1 Training, which all our Trainees receive, without fail. Berceli TRE Booklet, which you probably received from your Psychologist in order to do the exercises at home. Secondly the reason our Admin Manager does regular searches on the world wide web is because our main concern is that TRE is practiced by Trained Practitioners in a safe and responsible manner. With regards to the DVD - you will note that if you go to our web page www.onevisionafrica.com that we in South Africa do not make the TRE DVD available to our Community and neither are step-by-step instructions posted there either. Yours Sincerely Dr. Melanie Salmon   It may be pretty clear what I think of Dr Salmon and how she handled this situation both professionally and ethically. But I will keep that to myself. But just to make things clear....I NEVER received any booklet when I started my TRE sessions. I was actually my psychologist's case study while she was training to become a TRE practitioner. I had had several sessions with her and we had gone quite far into my history and medical problems before I started the TRE training. I do believe that the TRE training is not as water tight as Dr Salmon thinks it is. But for my part...it was thoughtless and irresponsible of me to post the step by step instructions on this blog. I can say that I had no knowledge of TRE causing adverse reactions. I had found something really great and I wanted to share it. It is very upseting that my actions could have caused someone harm.  For that I am truly sorry. When I posted this a year ago I did have some knowledge of plagiarism and  how a copyright works, but in my rather naive mind I thought that since clear instructions of yoga, Pilate's, diets, any exercise etc. is freely available anywhere, I thought that TRE is was no different. As there is nothing on the internet or any of the TRE dvd's and books as to what dangers involve TRE I will leave it up to the reader as to whether this is a marketing ploy just to buy the material. I have personally found the benefits to TRE HUGE!!. And yes, I still do them at home...by myself. If you are interested in TRE then please go to Dr. Berceli's website where this is a list of TRE practitioners around the world. Do as much research as you can on TRE and consult your GP before you start. Lastly I would like to advise Dr. Salmon to go after the several youtube users who have videos on how to do the TRE exercises.

BEST news everyone! (and a bit of blabbing)

I got a temporary job covering maternity leave. It is a 4- 5 month contract and I start on the first of August. I was looking for something permanent and I could do with better pay but it's better than nothing and at least I will have something better to do in the next few months. I will be able to buy my Mom a nice birthday present this year. And I can finally start paying off some of those debts that have been hanging around my neck. I am not nervous about it now but come Sunday night I will be!.

In the last few days the world has been in total chaos. How ironic that I wrote about terrorism just a few weeks ago and now Norway is dealing with such tragedy because of an individual who wanted to bring a "revolution" to his country. Then of course there is the massive train crash in China, more earthquakes in my dear Japan and the death of Amy Winehouse (Am I missing anything?). Right now I feel like I am in a fish bowl staring out at all the anarchy. Everyone here feels safe and untouchable. I feel the same to a certain degree, but I was once also in the midst of a national disaster and know that we are never completely safe. How someone could call himself a christian and then shoot dozens of children and young people is incomprehensible to me. What this man did was not from God. Of course the obvious question is why didn't God, being all- powerful that he is stop these acts that were being committed in his name. The best honest answer I can give to that is I don't know. I'm not going pipe on about "everything happens for a reason"- there was no reason for this.

So things are starting to look up on my side despite the world being a very sad place at the moment. In the last week I have been staying with a friend and have honestly had no time to either blog or read blogs. I am going back to the same friend tomorrow to start have a bit of a holiday before I join the rat race. There is no big reason for this post other than to share some good news for those who care and give my two cents on the happenings of planet earth. Hope everyone is safe and well :)

Hysteria

I am sitting here with my cup of tea waiting for the popcorn. It is one of those golden afternoons on the farm. The house is bathed in warm sunlight and it is quiet except for the sound of the fridge and the birds. Milo is sunbathing. It is at times like these where I think life is good and depression seems like a distant memory. Yet no matter what season there is always this feeling that future is racing toward me and I am in no way prepared for it.

Last week my sister finally decided (or gained enough courage) to introduce us to her new boyfriend. When a male comes into our family it is a big deal. We are a family of women with the exception of my Dad and one lone male cousin (the best guy you could know). All of our men abandoned us years ago- I tell myself it's because they can't handle us. But the introduction of a new guy in our family has always meant one of two things...heartbreak or a new baby somewhere in the future. It happens every time like clockwork. It's like we have a curse on us. I hate it.

My sister's new boyfriend is a lovely guy but already the signs of trouble are there. He is three years younger than her and has a less than perfect past. I have now decided to be positive and supportive of her, but I can't get rid of the niggling feeling of impending doom. When she told us she was bringing him home last week I immediately made plans to be elsewhere. I panicked thinking "Oh no, not again! I won't go through it again!". Childish I know. It upset and hurt my sister and after a huge fight via Blackberry messenger, I agreed to stay.

Sitting with my Mom in the aftermath, I was trying to explain to her my overwhelming desire to get as far away from the family as I could. At some point I made the most ridiculous comparison of my life so far being like window shopping in a mall- there has always been glass between me and the things I want: success, happiness, love, peace. And all I have really done is looked at it but have never had it.

The hilarity and overwhelming sadness of what I was saying engulfed me all at once. Suddenly I began to both laugh and cry at the same time as each feeling inside me battled for control. The convulsions of both laughter and tears were so strong that I could no longer sit upright and so I collapsed into a quivering lump on the couch.

My Mom's face just made me laugh and cry harder. I could literally see her brain ticking away, trying to figure out what she should do. Eventually I couldn't breathe and my stomach was in knots. She came and sat beside me and tried to hold me up. Milo was staring at me like I had gone nuts. I laughed/ cried for about 45 minutes.

I have no idea what that was or whether it was good or not. It's been a while since I was so out of control. Afterwards my face was red and puffy from crying and my asthma had been triggered from laughing. I spoke to my counsellor and she sounded it like hysteria. It might have been the fact that my doctors were meddling with my Amitriptyline Whatever it was it passed quickly and the next day it was like it never happened. I am ashamed of my attitude toward my sister having a boyfriend. You don't need to tell me that I am being unreasonable. But the past still has it's clutches deep inside us and I am still trying to figure out how to break free. I hope that by the end of my time on earth I won't be comparing my life to window shopping.

7/7

On July 7th, 2005 I left my flat in Southfeilds, in the south of London and took the tube to my work in Kensignton. It was a typical day, with me wishing that it was weekend because as usual I had gone to bed so late the night before. I had been living in England for just over a year and was loving it. I used to work to walk quite often, mostly because I loved being out in central London so much. But it took me two hours to get to work that way and owing to the fact that I was exhausted that morning I took the train a little late.

I can't remember much about that morning but when I look back now I remember feeling rather unsettled sitting at my desk and not knowing why. It was so quite. Too quite. An hour and a half after I arrived the phone rang and it was one of the psychotherapists at the practice where I worked asking to speak to my boss. "Have you heard whats happened?" he asked. I had no idea. "There are bombs going off on the Underground" he said casually...so casually that I actually thought he was joking. He actually starting laughing and then told me to tell my boss that they were shutting down central London and he was not able to get in so he was going to start walking home. I sat at my desk shell shocked after that call not sure what to do, still not quite believing what I had heard.

The phone rang about three minutes later, just has I had noticed I had 6 text messages on my cellphone. It was my grandmother's cousin who lived in Wimbledon, frantic wanting to know if I was alright. She told me that three bombs had exploded on three different Underground trains, one of them was on the train line where I worked. Knowing my Mom would freak out as soon as she heard the news I asked her to phone my parents in South Africa and let them know I was alright. The rest of day was spent frantically trying to contact friends around the city, which was difficult as they had shut down the cellular network in central London. All public transport was suspended and later that day there was a sight most likely never to be seen again. Millions of people walking the streets to get home. By the time my boss let me go home the streets were empty and deathly silent- there were no cars or people. I knew the way home from walking to and fro to work but was I terrified walking that night. I eventually got home at 10pm to three relieved housemates.

Terrorism to me was something that seemed to only be exclusively on T.V. It never seemed to be real, something that always happened in a country worlds away. I had watched as an 18- year old in numb disbelief as those planes had hit the Twin Towers could not comprehend how a person could actually do that.  For the first time that day, the monster that had been trapped in a television set touched my life and became very, very real. The real weapon that terrorism uses is fear, panic and confusion that normally hits in it's aftermath making the world angrier and more dangerous.

Today is the 7th anniversary of the London bombings. Seven years ago today four very misguided young men stepped onto London's public transport, which services over a million people a day, and took their lives and those of 52 other people when they detonated explosives strapped to their bodies. 700 hundred more people were injured. In the days that followed a shadow was cast over the country. It was almost like a sort of universal trust had been broken. In time everyone recovered from their shock and anger. But things were never the same again.

I have often found it odd, especially since deciding to follow God again, how people can commit the most horrible atrocities against mankind all in the name of something that in my opinion that is all about love. I personally feel that God is all about life. He speaks life onto us. His command is love. Yet somehow people use God to kill and control other people. They project their own selfish desires onto God and make it all about Him when it's actually all about them.

From what I know about Islam it has to be one of the most peaceful and honorable religions out there. Some of the greatest people I have ever known have been Muslim. We once had a Islamic landlord who let my family stay rent- free in our house for months after my Dad had his heart attack and my mother became unemployed because his way of honoring his God was to shelter us. Because of a handful of extremists shame has been cast onto millions of other peaceful Muslims.

Like I said before, terrorism's greatest weapon is fear. Fear does terrible things to people and is even more dangerous when it affects people on a mass scale. One of the characters in Starwars said that fear eventually leads to hatred. An emotional cancer. This is so true, I think most of you will agree with me that 9/11 changed the world and we are now more afraid and more angry. It has taken away a piece of our freedom. Some of us will never be able to fly without the niggling feeling of, "Will I make it?". Some of us now insist upon living behind ridiculously high wall for protection. People are afraid to go outside because of "What if?. I know plenty of people that will not completely trust someone because they are

What can we do to change this? I have no idea except for the way that I reacted after the London bombings. The day after, I got back on the tube and went to work. I was one just six people in that carriage. Normally it's packed. We had to stop in the middle of a tunnel for five minutes which got me a little unnerved and I asked a guy sitting further away if I could sit with him, eventually all six of us were sitting together. I can't exactly say it was the most pleasant journey of my life. But I made it to work that morning, one of the very few people in London that did. The second time I got on the train it was easier and the third time...

So my answer would be learn from the experience, never forget but to move on. Yes those people have got us afraid but don't give in to it or you will be doing exactly want they want you to do. Don't be prejudiced and distrustful toward someone because they are part of a religion that happens to have a few extremists. Don't listen to the "What ifs". Don't hide behind walls. You don't have to change the world but you can make a difference to your small corner. That is the only way to win this war. That way your children will not inherit a world of hatred .

RIP 07/07/2005

 



From the dark side: The end...a stir fry

Today is Father's day, I always struggle with Father's day mostly because of the past I have with my Dad. I thought maybe I would just sleep through the whole day until I was literally guilted out of my bed, forced to come downstairs and put on a smile. Since about 14:30 this afternoon my sister's voice, blaring as she bosses us around has had the same effect on me as nails on a chalkboard.

The reason I have been writing this all this about my grandmother is because this week we finally put her in a home. Granted she really should already been in a home years ago but my Mom just couldn't let go. Up until just recently my Mom was the centre of my grandmother's universe and she couldn't stand to be away from her. My mother believed that once my grandmother stopped responding to her love that then it would be time to let go. I think that my Mom carries a lot of guilt because it was that idea that led to disaster with my grandmother breaking her hip and her final decline into complete insanity. This led to a year of hell for our family that caused a breakdown of our relationships, isolation, depression and a whole lot of anger for all of us. If my grandmother was herself she would be horrified at all that happened.

Now for what I see as a true tragedy: My grandmother was raised to believe that her most important place was within the family. She may never have had a career, but she worked twice as hard for her family. She came from a wealthy farming family but received nothing except a small settlement in her parents will...all because she was a girl and her husband was meant to take care of her.

My grandfather died penniless in a home (which was paid for by his brother) when I was 19. Standing over him in the final hours of his life, I felt nothing more than pity for him. I was more heartbroken by my Mom begging him to stay so she could spend more time with him. That was so awful. My beloved great- uncle died two months before I left for England. He had suffered a massive stroke the year before his death that left him a total invalid, unable to speak. Our family had raced across the country when that happened. I sat with him in the hospital throughout the night squeezing his hand and stroking his face trying to get my brain accept that my uncle, with his twinkling eyes, larger than life personality and booming voice was the same frail man that lay expressionless in that bed. It was a great day for him when he died. He loved God more than anything else on this earth and longed for the day when he could finally meet his maker.

My great- uncle had made a great success of the farm he inherited and it has now been passed onto his sons, one of which is my godfather. My grandmother's younger brother drank his farm and his money away. He died of cancer when I was 8. So my grandmother is the last one left. The last one from the glory days.

So in other words my poor grandmother is broke and even though she worked so hard. We could not afford to put her in a nice home or one that was even close buy. The home she is in now is very basic but comfortable for the price. But it is two hours away and my mother will only be able to see her once a month. My Mom has lived with my grandmother for most of her life except for her university years and the first 3 years she was married to my Dad.

It has been a mad dash to get my Grandmother ready. You will not believe how much stuff you need to buy to get someone ready for going into an old- age home. The night before she left I was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a stir fry and I was listening to my Mother talk to my Grandmother about the home, how many friends she would make, how the nurses were going to spoil her and how good the food was. My Mom washed her hair, cut her nails and was rubbing cream on her hands. My grandmother kept thanking her. The stir fry was not quiet working out the way I wanted ( I added to many damn noodles!) and then it hit me. My grandmother has been alive the whole time I have been alive, she was there for everything and I mean everything. Years and years of everything was going to end with a stir fry?. This mostly likely was going to be her last meal with us. This was probably the last supper I would make for her.

We are took my Grandmother to that home for her die. Her road on this earth will end there. And while she may change homes or come for visits, you know what I mean. A page has been turned and we are now facing the final chapter. The landscape of our family will never be the same. And with the stir fry thought came the cold realisation. I will never hear my Grandmother call my name again, she will never make me another cup of tea, her stories have now gone.

I'm still angry as hell but I don't hate her anymore and I don't want to be angry either. But I guess the reason why I am afraid to let go of that anger is because behind all that rage there is a heart wrenching sadness and a tunnel of endless regret. I have racked my brain trying identify those times when we may have had a second chance for a good relationship. Maybe everyday was a second chance, maybe we were never meant to be. The irony is that if my grandmother had not had Alzheimer's we might have been very good friends.

On that last night, after everyone had gone to bed I went into her room to fetch Milo, who for some reason had taken to curling on my Grandmother's bed after she went to sleep. And there she lay tiny and fragile, a ghost of her former self. For some reason I thought about one Christmas when my Mom, sister and I were struggling to drag our potted Christmas tree into the house on a mat. My grandmother pushed us aside, took hold of the mat and dragged the whole thing in by herself quickly and with such apparent ease that all three of us were embarrassed by being shown up by a seventy- something woman. There are a lot of things I want to change about the past but none of that matters now. Saying "I love you" just felt to weird but I whispered to her how sorry I was. She didn't hear me of course. They say that the bitterest tears shed over a grave are for words left unsaid. I took Milo and left.

The next day she was gone, I stood in her room. Her bed was stripped and all her belongings were gone. Photographs of her now seem ancient, moments frozen in time. I am now part of her legacy. I hope and pray that I will learn from her mistakes and live my life well.

From the dark side: The damage that haterd can do...Part 7

Penultimate

In September last year, just a few days after my birthday, my Grandmother took a tumble down a step (that was only about 2 inches high) and broke her hip. We had been forced to moved to a new house as the farm my parents had lived on for the past seven years was sold. The move sent my grandmother in a continuous downward spiral and we thought things couldn't get any worse...until that fall. After that life became unbearable for all of us.

She had to have surgery and was in hospital for a month. Our entire family and extended family took turns in sitting with her in hospital to comfort her and remind her every few minutes where she was, what had happened and prevent her from trying to get up or pulling her catheter out. I sat staring at her not being
able to offer any words of support other than the stereotypical cheesy stuff when it was absolutely necessary. My Mom was unhappy with the care she was receiving at the hospital and brought her home early. That day was one of the worst days of my life. It was just me and Georgina and the amount of care my grandmother needed was overwhelming.

That fall shot any sanity my grandmother had left. When she came home from the hospital we had to put her in nappies/ diapers because she was incontinent. Her vocabulary were severely compromised but that didn't stop her talking in a continuous monotonous voice from the moment she woke up until she went to bed. The only talking she ever did was in the form of some very weird prayers or calling my mother. That was on a good day on a bad day she would shout and scream continuously. The talking alone drove us up the wall. Even though her leg healed very well, Alzheimer's had started to claim her motor skills and she was confined to a wheelchair, only being able to walk very short distances with a walker. She screamed every time we moved the wheelchair and taking her in the car was impossible because it was "To fast" and she was afraid we were going to crash.

My Grandmother never slept. She had no concept of time or of night or day. My Mom had to eventually start sleeping with her because she was so terrified of being alone and would try to get out of bed. She had several panic attacks a day but my Mom was hesitant about putting her on medication because she didn't want her to get addicted. Though, I understand where my poor Mom was coming from the whole thing was absolutely ridiculous. Eventually one night after I found her in bed choking and hyperventilating which resulted in us having to call an ambulance, my Mom relented and my Grandmother was put on a sleeping pill and sedatives, providing a little relief (and some more sleep) for all of us.

Whether it was because of the drugs or the disease she began having hallucinations. She had entered her own world never to return to the real one. If you told her something that she was seeing wasn't there it was like she either wouldn't hear you or comprehend you and just went on talking about the strange imaginary place she was in. The doctor put her on medicine they use treat people with schizophrenia, which I found odd but it didn't make any difference any way.

She hasn't been as aggressive as most Alzheimer's patients but she has tried to take a few socks and slaps at my Mom. The worst was when I found her trying to strangle Milo- he and jumped in her lap and frightened her, when I walked in I was so horrified I grabbed him away from her and slapped her hand hard. She then told my Dad I had tried to kill her.

Her final obsession was with my Dad. His name was always in her mind and in the last few months she has called for him continuously throughout the day. At first she was convinced he was her husband (something my Dad did not take very kindly). Then to her, everyone she saw was "my Dad" whether or not they were even male or female. The saddest part was when she finally forgot who my Mom was and stopped calling her by her name. I think because she always heard me call my Mother, "Mom", she started to do that too. My Mom would not accept this until the day when my Grandmother was crying and saying over and over again, "Where is my mother?, I want my mother!", my Mom gave in, knelt down next to her and said, "I am your Mother". My Grandmother then cried over and over again, "Oh thank you!, thank you!".

They say that with Alzheimer's patients, the happiest memories go last and this was true for my Grandmother. Her very last memories to go were those of her childhood and when she was at boarding school. My Mom tried to talk to her as much as she could about those days, hoping she would be spared a while long with those happy treasures in her hands. But ultimately, my Grandmother would wake up every morning having lost more of what little memory she had left. And so we watched as every last thread of her life slipped away and she became a stranger to us and us to her.

It is very difficult to convey in words how horrendous the last year has been. Our family, my parents in particular, have faced many trails in their lives but very few of them can compare to this. What we have watched happen is truly frightening. Torture is the best way to describe the emotional impact it has had on us and the toil it has taken on our lives.  Our entire lives revolved around my Grandmother and her care. We had very little freedom. We could never go out as a family and if one of us was out it could only be for a few hours because someone was on duty at home and needed to be relieved. It was worse for my mother- for the past year she has been house bound.

It has had a different impact on me. Of course I was to busy with my damn revenge to notice that someone who loved me my whole life and nurtured me (in her tedious, bossy way), was slipping away. But there were moments when the pain of what was happening would lash at me. Watching Little B running to her Great- Grandmother arms wide open only to get pushed away because she thought Little B was attacking her. And then seeing my Mom cry because she missed her mother so much- she was there but she wasn't at the same time. My Dad used to say that the person we had in our house was no longer my Grandmother and that she had left us some time ago. As harsh as that sounds he was right.

And where did all my hatred get me?. Well it got me nowhere. It was useless. It just made me more miserable and more of a liability to my Mom instead of an asset when she desperately needed help. I felt bitter because I had gotten nowhere. I'm still angry at my Grandmother but how is that benefiting me?. It's funny how human beings see holding on to anger as doing them some sort of justice when they have been scorned. In the end no one cares and it's like going around in a circle.

When the pressure cooker explodes



Breakfast at Tiffany's

 Firstly I would really like everyone to take a look at my last post and maybe pass on the message. I would like to see that lovely kitty get a home. If there was a way I could have her shipped to South Africa, I would take her but I know that is impossible.

My half- sister (from my Dad's previous marriage) is in the country and has decided to grace my parents with her presence for two days starting on Easter Sunday. I'm not going to give the gory details other than to say that both my younger sister and I decided several years ago that it would be best if we had no relationship with her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same. We would have left it at that if my mother was not on a eternal quest to bring us together again citing the "forgive and forget" slogan with some pretty disastrous consequences. This woman has treated my mother atrociously in the past and I have to admit finding my Mom's easy forgiveness of her and forgetting all that happened rather disturbing. It's like my Mom is intimidated by her and feels responsible for the rift between her and my Dad which couldn't be farther from the truth.

Anyway enough about that, this week as been stressful enough mostly because of finances, my up coming exams and my grandmother (again a whole other post). And ( Sorry guys! ) it's been that time of the month. I'm on the pill and for the past few months I have been using the pill to stop my monthly "pal" from dropping by. For about eight days around and during my period my antidepressants stop working my anxiety levels shoot through the roof and I become a shouting, screaming, kick- boxing wench and during the rare periods of calm I experience an overwhelming- unable-to-breath sadness. So I have really been using the pill to stop the awful pms-ing.

Well this month I couldn't do that because I didn't have money to get my pill on time. Yesterday I had a counselling session in which we talked a lot about the past, the abuse and how ****ed up my family is, so I was feeling a little emotionally sore. I then had to spend two hours in a hospital waiting room for my grandmother to see the doctor. And of course my grandmother was yelling and talking utter rubbish as she usually does, irritating everyone there. Eventually we were asked to take her outside. During this time I read the story I posted above about the kitty, Precious and it really upset me. So the stage was set for a rather big explosion. And the one who set it off?. My mother.

I have made it clear that I don't want to see my half- sister and have made plans to go and stay with my younger sister when she is here. After seeing the doctor we bundled my grandmother in the car during which my mom told me my half sister would be coming on Sunday. I replied that I would be going to my younger sister. My Mom said then that she had a "simple request". That was the match that lit the dynamite and knowing what she was asking I exploded.

I just started screaming my lungs out!. We were parked in a disabled parking quite close to the hospital entrance and people actually stopped and stared. A group of nurses walking towards us gave the car a wide berth. I was so furious that I kept on shouting all the way to my Aunt's house.

My Mom knows how bad the relationship is between my half- sister and I. What's worse is that I have told her everything that happened but she always forgets and keeps on asking me over and over again. I have given my reasons for not wanting to see  her but she doesn't respect my decision and keeps on nagging and demanding that we become freaking best friends because we are "sisters". Her coming to stay has really been stressing me out this time and my Mom has been more demanding than usual. This all coupled with everything else that was going on yesterday pushed me over the edge.

Today I'm a little worried because that explosion yesterday definitely caused me to take a mental step backwards. I can't describe it, I feel like a switch has flipped and something is different. I was meant to volunteer at the welfare today but this morning I couldn't get out of bed- I had a nightmare about my half- sister  last night. We were all at some big party and I spent the entire time trying to avoid her until eventually she confronted me and was crying and throwing a tantrum. I remember she had awful teeth. Ugh!. I woke up this morning feeling really disturbed and paranoid. I decided I didn't have it in me today to face those awful welfare ladies once again and stayed home. I failed today.

So I have spent most of today in a anxious state of paranoia and feeling angry and hurt at my mother for putting me there. I told my Mom how I was feeling this morning and her response was to pray for me. She's now acting like everything is hunky- dory. She knows that something is terribly wrong unfortunately before she takes action she goes into a state of denial first.

This might make you laugh. The final slap in the face?. My half sister will having a roast lamb dinner with my Mom and Dad. My grandmother's side of the family owns a sheep farm up in the Northern Cape. Every once and a while the send us lamb, very popular in South Africa and Europe and my favorite. They used to send lamb down a lot but after my beloved great uncle died they now only send it down about twice a year. It's way to expensive to buy in the store. We have had this leg of lamb in the freezer and I have literally been waiting with bated breath until we can have a roast lamb dinner. Well guess who is now getting the damn dinner?. Guess who will be sitting in a flat with her sister eating sandwiches?. Uh- huh.

Update on my baby Milo: A very weird story

Milo's tail is not broken just very bruised but unfortunately he has suffered a very bad break to his back fema and they will have to do surgery on him tomorrow to insert pins. They say that it is good that he is still very young because his bones are still soft and have better chance of healing normally.

The surgery alone will cost R2500 ( about 360USD ) and they require a 50% deposit before they even do the surgery. Hearing this news yesterday was like a death sentence....until my Mom and I get a job money has been quite tight and we just couldn't come up with that amount especially in such a short space of time so the only other alternative was to put him down which is what my Dad was lobbying for- he said he would not pay for surgery for a cat. My poor Mom burst into tears when I told her the news- she feels so responsible even though it is not her fault. She spent most of yesterday phoning around to all sorts of weird and wonderful places and foundations to see if we could get it done for less but that R2500 is WITH the animal welfare discount.

I became desperate- I was meant to be in bed but landed up laying on the floor next to my Mom as listening as each place she phoned turned us down. I actually felt nothing- something I can maybe contribute to the high dose of antidepressants I'm on, but my pain only got worse as the day wore on. I resolved that I was not going to let my cat die, I gathered up everything I had of value- my camcorder and camera printer my aunt gave me, my guitar I've had since I was a little girl, the gold charm bracelet my mother gave me for my 21st and was going to pawn them first thing this morning. I was even going to steal the 2nd microwave my Mom has. I told my Mom to phone back that bloody woman from animal welfare and tell her I would work for free to pay it off.

My Mom phoned her and spelled it out that we just did not have the money but we were not going to let our baby die so we were planning to pawn things and I would be willing to work for them. The woman did change her tune when she heard I was willing to work but she said it was not them I had to pay it was the vet.

This morning my Mom phoned this same woman back again...I don't know the details of the conversation  but she told my Mom she was willing pay for the surgery herself and we could pay her back. This is the same cow that snapped "This is not a free service" when I first brought Milo in. I don't know what the hell has gotten into her. All she told my Mom is that we didn't look like the sort of people that would "run". So the cow has turned out to be a night in shinning armour.

It gets even more....bizarre. My told her I was serious about volunteering ( I had been planning to even before Milo had his accident). My Mom also told her ( and I HATE it when she does this ) that I had been ill for a very long time. This woman then asked "Is it mental illness?" !!!! (Seriously do I have it tattooed across my forehead?!!). My Mom (bless her) told her I suffered from depression and an anxiety disorder but also the intercranial hypertension. It turns out this woman also suffers from severe depression and panic attacks. Honestly I don't know what to say...right now I am just grateful that my Milo will be okay.

I didn't post this yesterday because I didn't want it to seem like I was asking for money or anything. That is not, never has been nor never will be my intention with this blog. Granted I probably will still have to pawn all that stuff because there will be other expenses besides the surgery. Milo will  have his surgery tomorrow morning, this lady said that he has been in high spirits- eating, drinking and purring so that is a good sign. I will also be going back to hospital tomorrow to sort myself out. It's a holiday today for many countries- it's Human Rights Day here in South Africa. So by the time a lot of you read this Milo will hopefully be on the mend. Thanks to Wendy for the pet pray websites, I plan to put Milo's name on it.

Prayers/ good wishes for Milo...

Holy Mary mother of Jesus this has been one hell of a week and after reading this you will be forgiven for thinking that I shouldn't own a pet on account of bad luck. Milo appears to have broken both his tail and his back paw. There is a bad cell in battery of our car which requires either jump starting the car or pushing it to get it going. Today the car was parked on a slight incline on the in our drive way, I was standing in front of the car and my mom was rolling the car back to get it started when I heard the most awful scream. I looked down at the wheel and all I saw was Milo's tail sticking out from under it. I began yelling at my Mom to move forward. My Mom does not handle situations like this well- she couldn't start the car because it was dead. She went into hysterics, got out the car and started running up and down screaming. I started to manually lift the car up and actually got it a little bit off the ground, but not enough for Milo to get out. Two guys who had been working on the garden came running to the back of the car and started to push it back up the incline, meanwhile my Mom had gotten enough of her senses back to get back in the car and lift the handbrake. Once he was free Milo shot like a bullet into the house, ran up the stairs and into the geyser cupboard in my room with me chasing after him. It took me ten minutes to get him out. We raced him to the animal welfare, where they sedated him and will be keeping him over night until the vet comes tomorrow. These were the same people who gave us hell just because I wanted Milo vaccinated but didn't have the money to do it. And they were as snooty as hell to us this time all because we are not "underprivileged" enough.

This all has been the most horrific shock: Milo's screams and the seeing his little tail sticking out of the wheel will be forever be burned into my memory and the guilt is overwhelming. There were tuffs of his fur lying around the car. Not to mention that I think I did some serious damage to myself by trying to lift the car up and then chasing after him. It's been 3 days since my lumbar puncture/spinal tap and when I woke up this morning I still had the headache and I was deaf in one ear. After this little fiasco the pain has become excruciating...I can't cry, laugh, sneeze with out a horrible white hot thunderbolt shooting through my head. But I think it's probably nothing compared to what my poor little Milo went through.

I will only know tomorrow morning what will happen to Milo. The horrible people at the animal welfare have made it clear that we will cost us....a lot, even though I have told them I am unemployed at the moment. The one woman made a catty remark that "this isn't a free service we are giving". I wonder what they would do to Milo if I said I just couldn't pay...would they hold him ransom? put him down? or just leave him the way he was?. The dumb cow could see how upset I was but she was still being such a bitch.

A very sweet little blessing happened while I was there and this just testifies the unconditional love you can receive from a pet. They had just put Milo into his cage on the floor and I put my fingers in to stroke his head so he could go to sleep. I was crying and was in immense pain when I became aware of someone beside. An old black dog had come to sit beside me, he then put his paw on my knee and lent into me. I put my arm around him and he tried to lick me. We sat there for about five minutes just like that, somewhere in between another cat wandered up and began to rub itself against my knee. I hope those people know what a privilege it is to do what they are doing.

I realise most of you are not of a religious nature... I don't care, whatever your creed please pray for my precious fur ball tonight. If  you are not the praying kind make a wish that he will be better soon. I will be going back to hospital on Monday to find out what the hell is going with me....my baby fur ball and I both in the same boat tonight.

Japan: to the land of the rising sun...I salute you!

I cannot BELIEVE I am doing this again in such a short space of time. With the gorgeous country of New Zealand still picking up the pieces from their own earthquake, Japan will now be facing many dark days.

Japan is the country of my dreams... I have held a fascination with it's multi- faceted culture ever since I was a little girl, it is my dream to go there to work ( most likely to teach English ) once I finish my studies. Having this disaster anywhere is terrible but it was especially heartbreaking for me to watch those tsunami waves crash into the countryside and seeing pictures of rubble and distraught people.

To The Depressed Reader, one of my readers and former blogger, Takashi I only know that you both live in or around Tokyo and you were most likely affected. I hope that you are both unharmed and that your friends and family are safe. My hope is that there will be no more loss of life and minimal injuries, how possible that is I don't know. To everyone else...please take care of yourselves.

Also the the people living in the areas that have been issued Tsunami alerts (New Zealand, the Philippines, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, Hawaii among others) Please be careful!.

I try to be as genuine as I can in situations like this and not say things that are cliched....I honestly can say that you will be in my thoughts today.

Sad news from Rabbit Land.....

We have been experiencing a massive heatwave over the past few days. Temperatures have soared up to 45C (113 F ). Add humidity to the heat and you get...a very unpleasant situation. I am in a very irritable mood. I have got Little B back with me and trying to get this kid caught up so she can start school in time is beginning to feel like pulling teeth. I haven't been feeling well- there is a heaviness on my chest that won't go away. On top of this I have had to listen to my grandmother calling, shouting, screaming mostly my Dad's name ( who she thinks is her husband ) I think it's the mood I've been in that has a lot to do with  what happened.

So....the rabbits. With all the holiday stuff and other important topics coming up I never mentioned that last month both Basil and Buttercup escaped from their pen. Rabbit's cute and cuddly facade makes us forget that they are actually wild creatures and once they have tasted freedom there is no going back. The last time I saw Basil I was looking at him from a window upstairs. He had just come out from the bushes in our garden and was standing up on his haunches. Then suddenly he raced across the garden and behind the house, I had never seen him move so fast.

We found Buttercup later that day and were able to catch her and bring her back, the pen was unreliable so we put her upstairs on the landing. You would have never seen a more miserable bunny, she sat there for hours not moving or reacting to anything. The next day I was really sick and really down, my Mom came to me and went on and on about how sad and lonely Buttercup was and said we should either let her go, outside the farm or find a sanctuary for her. My Mom had the best of intentions but her timing sucked as it REALLY wasn't a good time for me to hear that. Racked with guilt, I took her outside and let her go.

For about two weeks different people saw her here and there. No one could get within ten feet of her. I was grieving. I saw her one day in the grass up by the workshops near our house, sniffing around the grass. But one morning one of the labourers managed to catch her and brought her back to the house. My Mom opened the door to see this guy holding her by the ears and her kicking and struggling for dear life. When my Mom held her she immediately calmed down. She brought her up to my room- I was still in bed- she came to me without a struggle and spent the next half an hour lying on my chest while I stroked her ears.

Buttercup in a weird way seemed to be happy to be back. We set up a place for her on my parents balcony and she the run of the house. She liked to hang out with me when I was either on the computer or watching a movie or reading. She slept with me in my room sometimes- normally she would get a pillow thrown at her for trying to eat my books. And this rabbit would win any staring contest- she would stare at me for ages as though she was figuring out some great mystery about me. Everything told me that, despite episodes here and there of boredom ( come on I couldn't entertain her all the time), she was a very content rabbit.

But then my Dad started to work on me. He never liked either of the rabbits and I think that it was because rabbit was considered to be a Christmas Lunch or something when he was growing on me. Also, while my body was still trying to get used to Amitriptyline I was out of it and my Mom had to do most of the rabbit work ( eg cleaning the balcony, emptying her litter) for me. At first he tried to talk me into giving Buttercup away which I refused- she was my baby and things were going well. Then he demanded that I get rid of her, unfortunately my Mom had also grown attached to Buttercup and ruled him out on that one. So he began to use his secret weapon on me, one that has always worked- guilt. He began to reason with me that she was a wild animal and that I was cruel for keeping her in the house. He said if I really loved her than I would set her free and if she came back to me she was mine, if she didn't then she never was. When he said that to me I almost asked him why he hadn't done the same thing with my Mom. All this over a rabbit?

Yes I began to feel terrible and horribly horribly guilty again. The worst thing someone can do to me is to pull the guilt trip on me about somebody or something I love. I will start to see things that aren't even there. My Mom told me that Buttercup was a happy rabbit and she loved being with me but she had an instinct that took over when she was in the wild. I really began to believe she was unhappy and that I was being cruel. Last night we were having supper outside and I couldn't bear to leave her in our dark sitting room, so I opened the door to see if she would come out and go back inside. She came out and raced around the garden, her eyes alight and she seemed to delight in the fact that she go inside the house and go back outside. Then when it started to get really dark I noticed that she was heading outside the garden and toward the road. I turned quickly to put salad dressing on my salad and (stupid) when I turned back she was gone.

I have no idea where she could have gone- we searched all around the area last night and got up early this morning to look but it's as though she has evaporated into thin air. My Mom has offered a reward for anyone who brings her back. But I just have a feeling that she's gone for good this time. I hope for her sake she headed toward the forest and not toward the orchids or labourer cottages. It was only afterwards that I realised what I did....I let guilt rule my head and listened to my Dad's crap and set a rabbit, who didn't know any better, free during a heatwave, on an apple farm where they spray the orchids daily with pesticide, where there are dogs and people that would see her as a great pot roast. Now it might seem ridiculous that there is all this drama over a rabbit but if you are smart, you might see that the rabbit is just the tip of the iceberg.

Beside feeling like the worlds biggest fool, I feel like I have failed and like I have been rejected all over again. Something as simple as this can re- open old wounds from the past. Not even a damn rabbit wants me. It has also made me realise once again the power that my father still has over me. His words have shaped who I am now and like a fool I let him continue to define who I am. He has an extremely low self esteem and the only way he knows how to deal with it is to strike out and make someone else feel like crap. He is also addicted to the power the parenthood has given him over another person and he has used it cruelly. He was powerless when he was growing up and he is on a lifelong mission to take it back. When will this cycle be broken?

I shall miss my precious bunny. kissing and stroking her silky head and feeling the kiss of her little nose and whiskers on my face. I loved her bunny ears so much and I hope and pray that she will be safe.

I wish I was in a country right now with Arctic weather. It's easier to get warm than it is to get cool

I have already received the greatest gift.

My last post was very negative, but I stand by it. This is an incredibly difficult time for me personally and for my family. Debt, death and illness are our constant companions this Christmas and I needed to rant, to get all my frustrations out.

We keep telling each other and whispering to ourselves that this too will pass. And it will... what we are experiencing right now is a massive shift and change. Our old lives as we know are coming to an end an a new life is beginning and unless each of us embraces it we will be left behind.

I am destitute right now, I have lost everything. But this morning I began to think of my best friend and my break down when I was in America- how very close I was to ending it. And I realised that right now even though it appears I have nothing I have already been given something that many people can only wish for.

I have been meaning to write this post for a while but quite frankly I just didn't have the words.I am going to write about the people that have kept me alive, pulled me back from the brink when mental illness threatened to engulf me. They are the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Please bear with me because I don't think I could continue this blog without mentioning them- they are all the reason why I am here.

My Aunt: A great sadness and guilt still fulls me when I think about this. I was staying with my Aunt in California when things started to happen that would eventually lead to my breakdown. I don't know, but I have a feeling that my Aunt blamed herself for what happened. What my Aunt didn't know is that a lifetime of trauma, abuse, depression and anxiety was closing in on me. Why it happened while I was staying with her I will never know. I had only met my Aunt a few months before and was so embarrassed about what was happening to me that I did all I could to hide it, instead of confiding in her. Eventually I got to the point where I could no longer hide anything from her as I was slowly falling to pieces. Still, I refused to talk to her. She knew something was wrong and didn't know what to do. Her life was already stressful when I arrived- she was caring, full time for her husband who had suffered a heart attack nine years earlier and had been severely brain damaged as a result. It is only now, having to care full time for my grandmother that I really have gotten a sense of what it must be like. Her husband was ( and still is) a wonderful man and love of her life. What happened to him devastated her.

This woman bore the brunt of my breakdown. Despite that she allowed me to stay with her, rent free, paid the MASSIVE phone bills I rung up (I'm talking like a $1000 people), supported me for three months while I waited for my social security number (someone forgot to do that when I was born) bought me a laptop for university and a camcorder and a camera to document my time in America. She was a lady of few words but through everything she did for me I knew that she loved for me. I am just so sorry she had to see me like that.

My Mom: I can honesty say my Mom is the sole reason why I haven't landed up in an asylum. If you are a mother you can particularly empathize with what my mother has had to go through. Like I said I was overseas when I had my breakdown and my mother was in South Africa. She had to sit through my hysterical phone calls where I was to terrified to form coherent sentences or I was drugged up on sedatives and slurring. She never knew if would be the last time she would speak to me. The hardest most sickening thing is that there wasn't much she could do...except pray. And everyday she was down on her knees having her faith- which is something she has been blessed with in abundance- tested to the limit.

The person that got off the plane when I came home was not the person that she had said goodbye to nearly four years before, just a shadow of her former self. My Mom has had to suffer through my mood swings, she is the sole receiver of my sudden rage attacks, she continually looks in on me when I sleep 18 hours a day. She has had to have almost soul- destroying conversations where I actually tried to convince her to let me commit suicide, that she would be better off without me, that she would move on. And she would say, she'd be lost without me and ask me to please stay. Yep, I've done some pretty heartless things.

My mom is not perfect, she has made some huge mistakes, especially where my Dad is concerned. But she has stayed in hospital with me, held me through all my lumbar- punctures (spinal taps) and endless panic attacks. She organises my meds- that she hates- into pill boxes each week and reminds me to take them. She has dragged me out into the sunlight when I wanted to stay in the darkness. She prays for me unheeded and believes against all the odds that one day I will be healed.

Karen: Karen is my best friend, who lives in America. We met when I was sent as a temp to the company she worked for. I often joke that she must have her house hooked up to the fountain of youth somewhere- she was in her late thirties when I met her but she looked no older than me in my early twenties. Our friendship was still in the beginning stages when I had my break down. I didn't talk to her at first but she knew something was wrong. She had every reason to walk away- I mean I was acting like a freak not mention that mental illness scares the hell out of most people. But she stayed and took care of me. She nearly lost her job because of me. She saved my life. I honestly would not be here if it weren't for everything she did for me. Not just her, but her husband too. He could have told her to stop seeing that psycho South African girl but instead he tried include me in everything they did. Since I didn't have a car he would come to pick me up and then drive back to drop me off- they lived in the next town so this was no small journey.

Many things have gone wrong in my life but I really can say that God has blessed me with true lifelong friends- even if they all live in different countries!. I had lost all my faith in God and even in the existence of God after my breakdown and I wondered why I could hear nothing from Him, why had he abandoned me. I  now know that I was never alone and I do believe he used Karen to make a difference. She changed my life and I now treat people differently because of her.

The picture up top is of a Willow Tree ornament that I gave Karen on her birthday. The picture below is of the one she gave me before I left (That's my precious Basil in the background). It's called "Angel of Remembrance"

This has been a difficult year for many people all over the world and this Christmas will be sad for very many. I'm going to reveal the materialistic side of me and say that I LOVE presents and the fact that I most likely won't be getting any is a real downer. But in the grander scheme of things I have already received one of the greatest gifts anybody can get: I have been loved unconditionally and even better....I have been able to love in return :).

These ads come out while I was recovering from my breakdown and every time I see them now it puts things into perspective.

'Tis the season to be (exhausted, stressed, trapped, MURDEROUS) Jolly

WARNING: For those of you that are having a great holiday season or possess the Christmas spirit with all the warm fuzzy feelings that come with it, this will be an antidote and will most likely put in in a bad mood after reading.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!!, as the song goes. Christmas carols are abound with "Parties for hosting marshmallows for toasting and caroling out in the snow" and then there is the "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, jack frost nipping at your nose". "All for "kids from one to ninety- two" blah blah , "Deck the halls with bells of FREAKING holly"

Bullshit! For one I live in a place where it isn't even winter at Christmas time- today the mercury reached 45C ( 113 F) in some areas where I live. Instead of playing in the snow, we play in the sand on a beach- if we live near to one. Most houses in South Africa are not built with air- conditioners, they are expensive and considered a luxury. So normally on Christmas day we are seeking a pool instead of a fire.

I could deal with that, I have been dealing with it my whole life. But what drives me bonkers at this time every year is that both fate and my family become almost uncivilised.

There is so much going that is causing us to be less than jolly- I might as well put it in point form. Note: This is a rant post some of the situations going on I can't help but be sarcastic about, but there are others that are truly tragic:

• My writing has gone to pooh, I don't know if it's because I feel uninspired due to serious depression, medication or if I am just burnt out with writer's block.  
• My parents and I are in serious debt- my parents under for the breakdown of their business AND my Dad's foolishness with money. As for me?. Let me just put it this way I was very young...overseas...with a credit card. Go figure.
• Because of the lack of money there will be no presents what so ever this year- even buying stuff for a lavish meal seems wrong  knowing that we owe so many people so much money.
• My grandmother who is in the final stages of Alzheimer's broke her hip nearly four months ago and has required round the clock care ever since then (She lives with us) because of this we have never really had the chance to unpack the huge old house we just moved into. This is just the year that my mother's best friend and her family have decided to come to us for Christmas ( we usually go to them ). So we are now in a massive hurry to fix, clean, unpack and decorate the house before Christmas Eve. Take note...this is all DIY.
• The above is in addition to all the cooking, baking and shopping that needs to be done.

On to the more serious stuff:

• I have just started Amitriptyline and am experiencing three of the side effects badly... dizziness, drowsiness and nausea. Add this to extreme headaches from my BIH and horrible depression- not a good mix.
• As I have said before my grandmother requires full time care. If you were ever present for a loved one in the final stages of Alzheimer's you will know the heartbreak, the horror, exhaustion, anger and frustration that goes with it. She takes up literally every minute of our day, we have to go through hearing her scream, shout and talk ALL the time. She can't form coherent sentences to communicate. She is terrified of being alone, yet when we come to her she doesn't know who we are. She's at home but she doesn't know where she is. She sees things that aren't there. Now and then she has lucid moments where she cries and cries her shame, she calls my mother by her childhood nickname and tells us she loves us. Moments later she will descend into darkness again and begin yelling and screaming.
• My Dad hates my Mom's sister
• My Mom's sister hates my Dad
• But my Mom still wants them to spend Christmas under the same roof...because it is "a time for family"
• My Dad's treatment of me has become worse and worse over the last couple of weeks. He thinks I use my depression as an excuse and the reason I am now suffering BIH is because I "did it to myself". He also has no regard for the fact that my meds have serious side effects. Therefore, like my sister, I get no support from him. His constant bullying and downright meanness are wearing me, down making me bitter. My mission to forgive him of the physical and emotional abuse he inflicted on my older siblings and I in the past, is becoming almost impossible. One thing I will still blog about is the part he had to play in my addiction to food and I can tell you right now it is bad. E.g He saw me in the kitchen just now with something in my mouth. The ssarcasm was literally dripping when he said, "Eating again, are we?" and he was getting ready to launch into a full diatribe with the sole purpose to make me feel like crap when I cut him off short, "No Dad, I'm just taking my meds" and I took a huge gulp of water to swallow the ten tablets I had in my mouth.

All of the above mentioned is happening right now....with Josh Groban's Christmas CD playing in the background. Now you know why I said fate as well as my family can be almost uncivilised this time of year. We are a family of misfortune, but it is funny how some of the worst misfortune will save itself until Christmas. And we are all driving each other crazy!.

As depressing as this may sound the perfect Christmas for me would be to be holed up in a deserted house (my sister's flat in Cape Town is the only possibility) with a bag of Quality Street , a take away and a few Christmas DVDs and spend Christmas all by myself with the space and freedom to reminisce on the good and the bad, to cry and to sleep.

I am praying to God to help us, help me through this time. I am praying for strength to be there for people in my family that need me and to take care of myself at the same time. Tonight my mother and I are putting together a shopping list of food we need to buy. Tomorrow I start my marathon of baking as well as trying to turn the dinning room from a storeroom back into a dinning room again. I used to be the biggest Christmas spirit of all time I pray that in all this I will find it again :).

Something to be angry about

As a citizen of the African continent I refuse to accept this: Report contains violent images

A girl named Jill and the warrior Susan

I love it when an event takes place to remind you that miracles do happen and makes you to believe again. This happened last night when a story that I have been following for years finally closed with the most beautiful and joyous ending. Whoever was reading my blog a few months ago may remember that I wrote a post about a girl called Jill McCloghry from the blog {Love}. Jill was having huge complications with her second pregnancy. She had already suffered one of the worst tragedies a person can go through but her grace and faith throughout it all was so remarkable and inspiring. Well...it is a great honor to announce that her little girl, Maizey Augustine was born on December 7th. I had been messing around on twitter last night and was about to close it down when I got a tweet along with a picture of the most gorgeous baby girl. It made my eyes tear up and had me grinning from ear to ear. What a pleasure it has been following this beautiful woman's journey.

I encourage you to go through Jill's blog and read some of her posts. If you have ever suffered a devastating loss, particularly that of a child or if you are on that often painful journey of waiting for a baby, Jill's writing will help you and bring you great comfort.

Unfortunately I also got some sad news a few days ago. I have followed dear Susan at If You Are Going Through Hell Keep Going since I started blogging. What this woman has been through for the sake of her health is unbelievable. She has to be one of the most courageous people I know. Her insight into the world of mental illness has always in helped me and comforted me.

Susan was rushed to hospital nearly three weeks ago with kidney failure. They believe this was caused either by the drug Nexium or Seroquel. She is now home again but the road to recovering will be a long hard one. Hearing this news was very hard as with any of us who suffers a mental illness it hits really close to home and I really do care for this lovely woman. God is bigger than everything she is going through right now and I believe he will still do mighty things through her.

Two wonderful ladies, two very different circumstances. Both of them give me hope.

I have decided to post "Stronger" being sung by Jill on the Hillsong Chapel album (she has done several recordings for Hillsong). I have really had this song on my heart for the past few days...have a listen.

Things...they are not too good

So I wanted to make a post on Friday...and then Friday turned into Saturday. Saturday somehow became Monday and I have been wandering around the house for most of today wondering what to write. I know there is a post in there somewhere but I am not sure how to write this.

For as long as I can remember the closer Christmas draws, bad news whatever it may be will find me. I have to be very delicate in sharing this as I do not  want any ill- favor to fall the person that is involved.

About two months ago I was horribly, severely depressed...more suicidal than I have ever been. It was the first time I felt I had no choice. However part of me was either afraid of dying or didn't want to give up so I actually told my parents. My Dad told me well done for confessing but there was nothing he could do for me as he "had no money" and he then ignored me. My Mom reacted with as much love, compassion and fear as she has. She always does that, I didn't think anything would come of it but I scared her more then I thought and she called my godfather who offered to pay for a psychologist. She also called a lady that I have known since I was a baby who is a church counsellor.

To cut a long story short I have been seeing this psychologist for about two months. Two weeks ago her secertary e-mailed me the bill as she had failed to get in touch with my godfather ( he lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere and travels often). I was firstly hit with shock and guilt at the amount and then secondly began to really worry that....it hadn't been paid. Two more weeks went by, my therapist would briefly bring the bill up and I had no idea what to tell her. I soon found out though that the school fees of my twelve- year old cousin- which he also pays for- were seriously overdue. I made the decision then and there to tell my therapist the truth and stop therapy immediately until the bill had been paid.

I have just found out that my godfather's business partner has done him out of a lot of money and there has been an ongoing court case where his brother's grown up children are suing the family estate for another whole lot of money. Basically....the guy is strapped.

Now let me explain a few things...my godfather is actually my mother's first cousin- my second cousin. He is the patriarch of a giant family and ALL the family member with problems come running to either him or my mother. He helped my parents put my sister and I through a private school, fully paid for my last year of highschool at a private homeschool, helped me go overseas, paid some of my university fees. As I write this I want to cry because I feel so guilty....and thankful. He has given my parents money more times than I can remember. Right now he is supporting my loser aunt and her whole family by paying their rent. If I could count how much money that woman has manipulated him to give it would probably run into millions.

I am more than grateful that he has done this for me because it pulled me back from the brink.

But I am now left with a massive bill that neither me or my parents can pay. Money that is being set aside for me to go back to university is dwindling as it is. And it has sunk me even further into the mounting debt that I am struggling to pay off. Not only that, the stress and pure fear this has brought me is undoing all the hard work that I have done in the past weeks.

During the day my hands are full with teaching a six year old little girl to read and write and generally taking care of her. Although this has been exhausting it has been a blessing in disguise because it has kept my mind off my troubles. But at night, or whenever I get a chance to be alone, the terrible dread fills me. It is not just my debts although that's enough to cause sleepless nights, it's the fear that I won't be able to go back to university therefore not be able to go to Japan ( it may be a weird aspiration but it's an aspiration that means a whole lot to me). I want to live and extraordinary live and achieve the impossible- that feeling is the last shred I have of the old me, the me the died when I had my breakdown and I have been clinging onto it with both hands but it is slowly slipping away.

Most of all I want to get better or be in a place where I can managed this wretched illness that has plagued me for as long as I can remember. It has nearly killed me, it makes me want to die. I kept remembering what one of my church counsellors told me, that I have never known freedom. I remember that because he was right. How tragic and funny that the apple is always dangling beyond my reach.

I have been busy while writing this post. I have not seen my therapist in two weeks and my mother made an appointment for me tomorrow. This has made me feel very uncomfortable and quite frankly I don't feel like talking to anyone right now. While writing I have attempted to cancel my appointment only to be stopped by my mother. This has resulted in huge argument between me and my parents ( funny how my Dad always reappears when the arguing starts). I don't really know what to do, I am dreading the appointment tomorrow. Of course my Mom told my therapist that I have been sinking further and further into depression since I have seen her. I feel a reprimand coming my way.

If you have been reading this post, thank you for reading it until the end. I wrote this hoping that I could transport some of my fears from me into cyberspace, where hopefully it will disappear forever. Maybe it will work....