Perspective

Life does not accomodate you…

It shatters you…

It is meant to shatter you

Every seed destroys its container or else there would be no fruit; 

Every caterpillar shatters its cocoon or else there would be no butterflies…

– Unknown

There are many ways of looking at your problems and facing adversity. But when we attach value and reason to our perspective it becomes much easier to address and overcome our difficulties. 

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Go To Sleep

The only reason I knew which day of the week it was is because I had an overjoyed super excited six year old who could not wait to go to school because she had been off sick with a tummy bug that made me want to hide in a cupboard and not ever come out… Two weeks ago she had mumps and stayed home for a week much to her delight (at first) and then to her dismay (because she missed her friends and teacher).

And as the tummy bug got sorted the eldest suddenly started moaning about sore ears which I dismissed as sheer laziness because she never wants to go to school or even get up for that matter. She got dragged along to the doctor anyways and was given the all clear only to wake me up at 2am in agony with a face much similar to that of a chipmunk! Noooooooooooooo!!!! Mumps… AGAIN?

Do you have any idea what it’s like to deal with a mouthy attitude fuelled 9 year old with Mumps? Let’s just say it is NOT FUN! I just look on in sheer amazement (WTF horror mostly) and wonder what the Hell happened to my sweet docile child of 4,5,6,7 or even 8 years old?

Mumps…. How can you do this to me? I inoculated religiously and still you showed up in both kids…

Which leads me to my next question: Are my kids weakened immune systems my fault?

Apart from the fact that I was awake caring for sick children all night… this guilt trip nearly caused me a meltdown of cringe-worthy proportions. So I tried to address the matter with my husband, who was fast asleep and absolutely NOT INTERESTED! ‘

“Mayya… Really?” he grumbled, rolled over and tried to wrestle as much of the blankets away from me as he could, and as politely (as he could) told me to go to sleep…

But here’s my logic…

When I was diagnosed, my cancer would have been in my body for at least 5-10 years (according to the doctors – which I am uncertain of. What annoys me is how certain they were that I would be dead in 6 months without any treatment blah blah blah…). My kids at this stage were aged 5 and 2. The realisation kicks in! Wait for it…… Get it? I had cancer in my boobs when I had them in my womb!!!

Could this have affected them? Could it have affected their immune systems because mine was not working? Even more alarming was the fact that my beauties were non-milk producing decorations that served only to fill a bra cup! Other than that… ZERO… And I mean ZERO as in NIL lactation advantages. I did not breast feed because there was nothing to feed other than my anxiety of course. The lactation clinic tried to kill me with Jungle Juice and many other concoctions which did not work at all, much to the annoyance of the nursing sisters who were convinced I was the Anti-Christ of Breastfeeding!

So this is what keeps me awake at night… Guilt!

Yoh! My mind is the devil I tell you!

Swiftly Moving Along

I have not written in 4 months! Why are you not writing I get asked so often? And I mostly respond that I am busy writing every day. It’s my job. The question that you should be asking is why I have not written on my blog for so long…

Writing is an intimate part of my daily routine and it is part of who I am and what I do. The last four months has been absolutely overwhelming and has forced me to refocus and re-evaluate everything I do. Nothing like the fragility of life to shake you up and make you realise your purpose on this temporal plane…

I have come across many people who have been patiently waiting for my next rendition of insanity. Much of my silence however, has been due to criticism of a negative nature, and it has led me to question my intentions and doubt my integrity.

I have always understood that I am a Creative Soul. It took me years to embrace this and even longer to make peace with the fact that I love being creative and expressing myself. I see no other way of being and living other than dreaming, creating and making. It is a very sensual and honest way of living that cultivates an immense sense of inner peace and self-acceptance. My creativity comes in the form of words and pictures, and like most artists I am petrified of showing my creations to others because I find criticism unbearable.

I often wonder how other artists deal with criticism…I am always open to professional criticism that could help improve my skills. Unfortunately I do not deal well with personal unconstructive or hurtful disapproval. I basically get extremely angry… And just like that my inner calm dissipates and leaves me thirsty for blood. All my calm hippie feelings drain out of my system and is replaced by sheer Voldemort vibes…

It takes me a few minutes to regain my composure and then wonder to myself… Really… But what have you done? Can you even construct a sentence? I have not realised that so many people actually read my blog and then tell my family members how much they dislike it… or how offended they feel by it…

Now don’t get me wrong, I am grown up enough to understand that realistically if I choose to share and show my work, people are allowed to have opinions about it. Sadly, I have made peace with the fact that we are not living in an ideal world where everyone is kind and acceptable of everyone else!

But I will keep on writing despite the ambivalence, dismissive or hateful remarks. Why?

BECAUSE I WRITE FOR ME!

And some wise words from one of my favourite author Elizabeth Gilbert: “Just smile sweetly and suggest – as politely as you possibly can – that they go make their own fucking art. Then stubbornly continue making yours.”

As I do!

Does Tears Destroy CD’s

It’s been a while…

It’s been 4 weeks since your passing…the longest time we have ever not spoken to each other or seen each other or heard from each other…

I have delayed writing about my grief in the hope that it would be less real and easier to live with…

More than a thousand times in these last few weeks I have written to you and spoken to you in my head… mulling over our last conversation before you took ill.

It was a strange yet comfortable conversation that had me thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were telling me something significant… And even though I heard you, I didn’t pay any heed to your statements as I should have… instead we just laughed it off as we do and blamed it on old age and dementia!

As I packed and unpacked my CD shelf this morning I stumbled across one of your old favourites and I remembered your love of music and it just crippled me… I got stuck on ‘always there when you called…’

How I miss you…

How no amount of tears and anguish will return you to me… to us.

Grief is a difficult thing. The pain comes and goes like the waning of the moon and the turn of tides. It somehow blurs your senses and dulls your perception of reality. Time is agonisingly slow and the heartache has not been getting any better. I understand that in time I will learn to live with it much like a lost limb or body part…you know exactly where it was, what it felt like and that it belonged to you and yet you had to let it go despite not wanting to… and you will always miss it and you will always want it back because you will always be able to feel it…

I have selfishly denied myself the pleasure of writing for I knew it would mean that I would have to acknowledge your passing. I thought I would write something immensely artistic with flowery beautiful narrative, but my disposition is filled with raw anguish.

For now I am mopping up my tears from my old CD’s and wondering…

‘Does tears destroy CD’s?’