5 years

5 years

This is an obituary for Stephanie Gwen. She was born in America but grew up in South Africa. She loved nature and dogs. She wanted to have a dog farm when she grew up to give a home to all the abandoned and unwanted dogs in the world. Her favorite food was chocolate. She believed in God and felt guilty because pleasing him seemed impossible. She loved the theatre more than anything else. Her favorite plays were Phantom of the Opera and Oliver! Andrew Lloyd Webber was her hero. Her greatest dream was to act in his musicals. Unfortunately although she held the heart and talent for acting she couldn’t sing or dance very well so being in a Lloyd Webber musical was out of the question. Stephanie grew up in a beautiful small town right underneath a magnificent mountain range. She dreamed of seeing the world, seeing all wonders that were in books and on TV. Stephanie was in awe of the splendor of the world she lived in, of the sky at dawn and at dusk, of the ocean and trees and the stars. She was so happy and grateful to be alive in such a world and would find pleasure in the smallest thing. She had a gift of inner peace that helped her to hope for a better future no matter what heartache and chaos surrounded her. When she was 21 years old one of her greatest desires came true when she moved to London. There she had to work very hard to survive but she had never been so happy in her life. She made many friends and had even more adventures. After and year and a half she left England to get to know America…the land she was born in.

5 years ago I was born….Stephi. It was 5 years ago this week that I had my break down in America. 5 years ago I was put onto antidepressants and have been on them ever since. At 02:50 am on the 14 March 2007 I woke up and found that the girl that I had been all my life had died and there was a new person in her place. Everything that I believed in was gone. There was no God. The world no longer held any splendor for me, I forgot all my dreams. The dreamy, loving girl, always full of hope was replaced with an angry, cynical cold hearted woman. It was like something had sucked the life out of me and left me hollow. Ever since then the world has became devoid of colour and totally joyless. Happiness became and impossible distant memory. The antidepressants saved my life but they have dulled my heart to the point that I am unfeeling of any kind of emotion.

But despite my cold, unfeeling heart I miss Stephi, the girl I once was. So every year during this week in March I celebrate her life. I light a candle next to the last picture that was taken of me before my breakdown. The difference between that picture and pictures taken of me after my breakdown is visible. This year I am living in temporary accommodation and all my stuff, including that photograph is in storage. So I have used a silver ring that I bought in England and some earrings that my friend gave as a memento of my former self.

As I always believe in looking for hidden blessings even in the most awful circumstances, I also use this time to remember the blessings that came out of that period of my life. I met one of the best friends I ever had, a girl who had known me for two months before I had my breakdown. She should have been really freaked out by what she was seeing and run for the hills. But she stayed and helped me get well. She saved my life, I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t had her there.

And of course the other blessing would be that I am alive, I made it through. I thought that week in 2007 would be my last. I was sure I would never see my family in South Africa again. I was losing myself, dancing along the edge of insanity and I wandered when the moment would come when I would cross the point of no return. But yet five years later here I am. I can’t say my life has gotten any better it has been so hard. I have had to mourn and get to know myself again. But at least I have dreams. Whether or not they come true is irrelevant. I want a better life.

So this is in memory of Stephanie Gwen and acknowledging Stephi and the road that I am still travelling.

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all – 2 Corinthians 4:17

To the inventor of waterproof mascara......

You have my sincerest thanks. I haven't cried as much as I have in the last few days since I was a baby. Waterproof mascara has come in real handy. I had no idea what a life line those Saturday meetings with my counsellor were until they were gone. I feel so lost and alone...like a protective shield that I had no idea surrounded me has just disappeared and it's left me broken and wounded in a dark wilderness. I have had to take a sick note for my last exam. Studying was just out of the question. I cried so much when I finally plucked up the courage to e-mail my counsellor to tell her I wasn't coming back, that I couldn't see the screen. I told her that I wished I had faith like she did but I didn't, I said it would take years to forgive my Dad and that I couldn't wait until I was "desperate to get rid" of my binge eating before I did something about it. She replied and said she completely understood, that her way was not my way and that we must all find our own path.


The only thing that has made things awkward now and a bit unbearable for me is my Mom's anger at this woman for not running after me and rather just accepting my decision. This was the woman who we thought would undoubtedly get me well, she was going to work miracles, it had sounded like she was my last resort. My Mom and I had an argument where I told her I was an adult with the right to make my own decisions. She literately screamed at me, "But it's the wrong decision!". I told her it's still my decision.

My Mom doesn't realise that I am so sad right now and so desperate for comfort that there are times that I just want to run to my counsellor tell her I'll believe anything she wants me to believe and do anything she wants me to do, even if it isn't right for me. But I know in my heart that I have made the right decision: I don't believe in God the way she does, I can't forgive the "unforgivable" at the snap of a finger. Therefore I had stopped making progress with her and my counselling began to resemble how I have lived most of my life: in a stalemate.

I have given myself two weeks to get over this. Two weeks to throw tantrums, feel suicidal, be angry, cry my eyes and then...start over. I am at a bit of a loss of what I am going to do. I found a clinic that will be able to help with the binge eating that is slowly killing me. But I have no money to go there. Even going to another psychologist will be a problem...again no money. I can't go to just any psychologist, I need to see one that specialises in eating disorders. My godfather cannot help me this time and the State will only help those that are starving (which is only natural since this is an African country). I will not see another church counsellor again. I have found a support group in the city for people with binge eating disorders. That is the best I can do for now.

All good things must come to an end...

Whatever patient, perseverant soul(s) are still reading this blog I salute you! This period of my life has not been the best for blogging. I started a full time job three months ago that just happened to be in a performance orientated company that I soon found out was very “trigger” happy. I hadn’t been there long before I starting hearing tales of our “fallen comrades” i.e. employees that were fired for something as simple as not sending enough e-mails OR (and this really takes the cake) supervisors/ managers that were given the chop because “they hadn’t fired enough people themselves”. Hmmmm…did I mention that this company is American? So I had been given the subtle message that- even though I was temp covering maternity leave- if I didn’t give 110% I would be given my walking papers. What was worse, and this really scared the shit out of me, if I messed up this woman’s job…she could get fired, even though she did nothing wrong! Did I mention she has six kids? Yep there was A LOT at stake. I’m pretty sure some laws are being broken here…but who ever dares to take on a monstrous American corporation?


So this coupled with the fact that I am still studying full time and have been writing exams ( two of which I am pretty sure I failed) I have not had much time for anything except eating and sleeping…and a spot of T.V if I am lucky!!. I hate to say this…but red wine and chocolate have become my best friends. I can’t exactly say it’s been a social pleasure working for this company.

I have lost two big features in my life these past three months, the first was my relationship with my sister (or rather the final realization on my part that the only way we would not kill each other is if we lived several hundred kilometers apart and didn’t speak at all…except on Christmas and birthdays…or if someone died) and the second, has hit me hard. My church counselor finally realized that she can no longer help me.

Years ago, I was talking with my friend’s husband about getting her to see a counselor. I suggested going to see a church counselor, since it was free and the husband said something that really rang true. Church counselors can only help you if you meet a certain criteria. At the very least you should be a believer…you don’t have to be a very good one…but you must believe in God. Second you need to be able to forgive…a lot of people will struggle for years with this but a GOOD counselor like mine, will be willing to stick with you….so long as you believe. Third, you need to agree with and do pretty much everything they tell you to. As I struggled with all three of the above, I knew that my counseling was doomed with these people from the very start. But I hoped that “maybe this time” it would work. I was at the edge with a knife in my hand, planning on ending it all, so I would have taken any helping hand that had been offered to me.

During my twenty –eight years on this earth I have been to so many psychologists, psychiatrists and counselors that I can’t remember them all. The one that helped me the most was a black psychologist ( pretty amazing as apartheid was still rife in South Africa) named Mandisa who saw me from when I was eight until I was ten. I also had reasons to believe that the church counselor I had now would be different: She has known my family and I since I was seven years old. She has done that most amazing work with people from Rape Crisis and victims of child abuse. The list of lives she has changed is endless. She told me when I first started that she had been waiting for me for years and that she wanted to make me her project. When I tried to run away she would come and find me. Who wouldn’t have been given a little bit of hope?

It started out with me, her and an elderly gentleman. Every Saturday at 3pm, I would arrive on her doorstep. She would give me a big mother hen huge followed by tea and biscuits and I would sit on her couch, her cat Joey purring in my lap and recount the horrors of my life. Then they would pray for me. Sometimes they tried to do deliverance – I’m not sure this ever worked (seriously, imagine someone yelling out you: “Spirit of illness, I COMMAND you to come out!!!!. And then feeling really guilty because nothing was er, “coming out”). No matter what they did the issue was that I didn’t completely believe in God. I remember them asking me each week, “Do you still not believe in God”. They didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t like a dress that I could change, it was more like a cancer invading my system that I couldn’t rid of.

When I came in one day the elderly gentleman was not there and I was told it was just going to be me and her. So for the rest of the year I spread myself at her feet like strawberry jam, she was the first person that I fully told about my abuse and my binge eating. I told her things that I had never told anyone before and she listened and prayed. Some major hurdles where accomplished with her- she confronted my mother head on about my abuse and her part in it. Because of that my mother started to understand me in a way that she never had before.

About three month ago I began to feel guilty…I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being selfish and was wasting her time. The revelations that I had made were now sounding like nothing but repeated complaints and whining. I hate to admit it but we had stopped making progress. Here was a woman who worked 80 hours a week and had women- most of whom had suffered the mostly dreadful atrocities- lining up at her door desperate for help…and I was just sitting on her couch complaining?!. Several times I was tempted to e-mail her and just tell her it was over but didn’t because I wanted to stay with her…sometimes I felt like she was my only friend in the world and I would miss her terribly.

The deal breaker was that no matter how hard I tried, I could never believe in God the way she did and it will take years to forgive my Dad for what he did to me. Not only that, she was way over her head with my binge- eating. It’s an addiction that I have lived with for most of my life that I actually don’t know how to live without it. It seems to make up so much of who I am that I don’t even want to get rid of it.

I fessed up to all of this on her couch last Saturday. Our meetings had become almost awkward because my guilt was always hanging in the air. She didn’t agree with me at first. But upon further retrospect she finally agreed. She e-mailed me last Monday morning to say that we had reached a stalemate and we needed to take a break. For me it was so heartbreaking but I realized that I had reached the limit with her and that she could no longer help me.

The unfortunate part of this is that my mother has been so devastated that yet another helping hand is going to disappear in the Stephi- void that she reacted with anger. This sadly has made the situation very tense with my counselor and it will probably be a while before we will be able to speak again.

I am trying to see this differently…my latest counselor is not someone who has bitten the dust but rather someone, like the rest of the people I have met on my path, has helped me and carried me closer to recovery.

At the same time I can’t get rid of the awful sense of failure…why is it that after SO many counselors, psychologists and psychiatrists that I can’t seem to get well? What is wrong with me that I can’t let my past go, forgive and live the life I was meant to live. For me failure also brings loneliness, the old enemy of rejection has reared its head again and I do feel so alone right now.

I will never be going back to her. From now on whenever we meet it will be as friends, I hope. I am thankful for everything she has given and for everything I have learnt. Writing this post has really helped. I haven’t spoken to her since she sent that e-mail but I now know what I want to say to her.

On to the next….

Tasteless

Of all the offices in South Africa I HAD to land up in one with a moron. Yep, if they found this post I would probably get fired because that moron unfortunately......is my boss. This week he played the most bizarre albeit rather disturbing and tasteless prank on me and quite frankly I am still trying to figure this out.

On Monday morning he came into the office with a story that on Sunday night he had had a guy arrested for peeing on his lawn. It was then discovered by the police that this man was in living in a car....with a baby. This first bit of information immediately raised red flags for me. I was then rather horrified when my boss told me that they put this guy and this baby in the back of a police van (in South Africa, police vans are trucks with the backs converted into cages for the criminals to sit in) and took them to the police station and placed both this man and the baby INTO AN ALL MALE CELL. Nice.

I was having trouble believing that this was even possible- where were child protective services?. Boss said apparently they had decided that the best place for this child was with this man so he could take care of her. IN A MALE CELL???. He showed me a picture of a man holding a rather distressed looking baby and that just made it worse for me. It's one thing if you just hear about something happening. Actually seeing it makes it more real. He told me not to worry but for two days I could think of nothing else. What were they feeding this child? Was she being bathed? Where was she sleeping? Where were they getting diapers?. It seemed so unreal. And it didn't help that my boss seemed to find the whole thing very funny- he actually said the kid was bound to land up in jail anyway so she might as well start early. I was disgusted.

Eventually on Wednesday this week, hearing that this kid was still in jail, I couldn't take it any longer. I was ashamed that I had not done something sooner. I picked up the phone and phoned my counsellor who worked for an organisation for abused children. She had all kinds of connections and even knew a judge. She was equally horrified and we started working on a plan to get this child out. This all happened in the office. When my boss heard that I was phoning for help, he stuck his head in the door and told me (in between bloody giggles) that he had been pulling my leg for the last two days.

At first I was in shock. Then I started laughing- not because I thought it was funny more because I just didn't know what else to do. My counsellor laughed with me. But once I got off the phone with her and sat down to think it hit me: For two days I had been going out of my mind with worry....it was all I thought about, my traitorous imagination threw up all sorts of images of what could be happening to this child in a male jail cell. My anxiety disorder began living up to it's name again. I felt sick, helpless, I couldn't concentrate. At the same time I felt both disgusted and foolish because no one else seemed to care. Finding out it was a hoax was infuriating!. Once he let the cat out the bag everyone else in the office was quick to make it clear that they had no knowledge that it was a joke. Our regional manager wasn't exactly pissed off about it but didn't seem to pleased about it either and made my boss apologise to me. I can't say that made it much better...he wasn't exactly sincere.

 I don't blame you for thinking I am going overboard, you may be right. But seriously what sane, supposedly stable person can joke about something like that? Because of my past and what I have gone through with Little B and her sisters, if I ever hear that there is a child in danger or in need it hurts and I will do something about it. I feel hurt that my boss exploited such a sensitive part of me. I was considering quitting- the lady whose maternity leave I am covering seems to want to come back early to escape her house. Not to mention I have made two big mistakes this week that has cost the company money. I then realised that that was a really childish thing to do and I would be shooting myself in the foot- I need the money. At the end of my life this company and it's employees will feature very little. So I am staying and keeping my distance from this idiot. Have you ever had a horrible prank played on you that did some emotional harm. Please let me know I am not alone!!.

On the beach...

My life is like stroll on the beach...as near to the edge as I can go

- Thoreau


I dropped a tear in the ocean, and whenever they find it I'll stop loving you, only then.

- Anonymous

Life in a noodle

These days I have bee less inclined to write. Other than the fact that work is hectic and I have university assignments coming out of my ears, I still have plenty to say but I just can't put it to paper.

In the past few weeks I have been facing my past more than I ever have in my entire life. Particulary that of my abuse as a child. And it has been ugly. I have been feeling dirty and gross. I wish I could just zip down my skin and leave my soiled body behind. I also feel selfish for what I am putting the people around me through. Hearing about someone's abusive past is so truamatic, especially when it's some one you love.



A few days before my birthday last month, in a moment of extreme rage, I told my sister about the time my dad had tried to strangle me. She was trying to defend him and I just saw red. Her reaction was of pure disgust. She refused to believe me. Until my Mom told her it was true. I didn't hear from her for a week. I wrote her an e-mail pouring my heart out about my past but sparing her the gory details. I spent the entire week racked with guilt that I had put such a heavy burden onto her. I had to admit though, I was a bit perplexed- she grew up in the same house as me, was she really that blind? Maybe she just blocked it out.

She never responded to my e-mail and I didn't see her until she suddenly showed up on my birthday. She was nice to me but I knew there was more to come. She seemed to be biding her time. Eventually yesterday I sent her a message to tell her that I was considering my counsellor's suggestion that I stay in a safe house so that I can be apart from my family and have space to work on my issues. The only part of her reply that I saw before she deleted me off Blackberry messenger was "I have given you enough time to sort out your issues". I have know idea what she was going to say, but since she has now cut contact with me I am assuming she is severing ties.

I can't say it really hurts. We have never been close. I feel more disappointed that she does not believe me or at the very least, thinks I am making a big deal out of "nothing". I also feel a weird sort of pity for her: she is so despetrate to hold onto an ideal of what life should be like she not really living life and she is miserable.

Well, when you come out with something as explosive as I have you can't expect to win friends and influence people. But I have a dream that one day I will be free of this and I will be happy.

But I have such a long road ahead of me...

Dear Dad,

I will not always struggle
I will not always have to fight for everthing I want
I will always land on my feet
I'm not always going to be fat
I'm going to be successful
I am not going to be alone
I will complete my degree next
I am not always going to suffer
I am going to be whatever I choose and be successful at it.

If you are in a position of authority over someone, especially a child, always be aware of the power of the tounge. No matter how good your intentions or how desperate you are ,beware that what you say can change the course of someone's life.