Be Careful What You Wish For

As many of you know, I will rather vacuum ten carpets before I mop one floor… and while I wanted a clean floor, I got more than I bargained for on Tuesday.

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Keeping Going

I’ve been out of isolation for almost three weeks. I’m grateful to report that I am getting stronger every day. The insane, rib-cracking coughing is almost finally at an end, but I still get tired very quickly. An hour on the beach on Saturday ended with me having a three-hour sleep when I got home. Every night I’ve switched off my light around 21h00, which for me is early.

A few things have changed since I took ill:

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2021 is Almost at an End; Looking back

Well… 2021 is almost at an end and all I can say is Thank the Pope! It’s been a rough, tough, and often downright shite, but it did have some good moments too. I made a few new friends, had quite a bit of freelance work for almost nine months doing social media postings for Where to Next, proofreading for local, Pegasus UK published, author, Sharon Brummer, writing some blogs for Noisy Digital, and when I got the dreaded plague, I got sick, and while it was bad, I know that it could have been so much worse. I didn’t get to blog as much as I would have liked, something I hope to rectify in 2022. Looking back…

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Heartbreak Autopsy

Does the hurt you caused me ever sucker punch you unexpectedly?
Do you ever feel enveloped by a storm of sadness?
Do you ever wonder if I’ve wanted to die because of it?

Your broken promises are splinters of glass in my mind
“I’ll never hurt you” – the salt in my wounds

Do you ever have to stifle screams of terror at night
As the memories choke you with their icy hands
Their bony fingers squeezing the throat your lips often caressed

Silent tears flow as panic threatens to turn to hate
“I’m sorry” – the word I damn to Hell

I try to sleep to silence the voices in my head
My rest plagued by inescapable rooms
Every door I open leads to another dungeon of heartache

My bed is cold, a sanitized, steel slab
You make the Y-incision with the diamond of her engagement ring

Did she stand beside you as you cracked my ribs
To remove my still-beating heart?
Our end: your start

Declutter, or Hoarding WILL Happen…

I am extremely humbled; a psychotherapist friend in Bristol in the UK asked me to be a contributor for her practice’s website. My first article is available to read here. I shall write for her as required, from my own perspective as someone with depression, on various topics. It is a tremendous privilege to be part of a project like this, knowing that my stories may help others who are struggling.

As I was writing the published article, it got me thinking about other aspects of lockdown and how they’ve affected me.

I said to Eliza the other day that I am starting to hoard stuff, and it is scary. I know that hoarding is linked to certain mental illnesses, including depression.  To quote a short excerpt from an article I found online: “The term hoarding refers to a psychological disorder whereby an individual refuses to discard things that they own. The person holds a firm belief that they will eventually need these items for some reason.”

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Day 160: Forget Boarding School’s “Lights Out” …

Yesterday morning I woke up to many messages saying happy Spring or something to that effect. I am a stickler about the true start of Spring in the Southern Hemisphere, purely because the Equinox is on my birthday.

I then saw the news that Eskom was once again implementing load shedding. My flowery thoughts did a three-sixty. New season, new loadshedding

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Day 123: Wyn vir die Pyn (Wine for the Pain)

If there was a Pandemic Prevention Olympics, South Africa would be on the podium taking gold medals by the barrel full. We’ve had the longest #Coronavirus lockdown in the world.

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Day One Hundred and Whatever! Who Cares? I’m Freezing!

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