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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A ‘Mouse’ Squatting in my Boob

I’ve always been aware of #breastcancerawareness but after this, I am a lot more serious about it. Ladies (and gents), please check your boobs for irregularities regularly. If you don’t know how, speak to a local healthcare practitioner.

It was a normal Monday morning shower. Until it wasn’t anymore. There I was, warm water cascading down over me, yet I was ice-cold with an indescribable feeling of dread; I had felt something unusual in my right boob – a hard lump. Could it be cancer? Nah, surely not?! But maybe… no, don’t be stupid! There’s no history of breast cancer in the family…but what about on your biological father’s side? It could be cancer… you’re at that age… These are just a few of the things that milled through my head the entire day. Needless to say, I hardly slept. I kept waking up during the night poking my boob. As sure as the earth rotates on its axis the knob was still there, feeling to me to be about the size of an old one Rand coin.

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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

My Lockdown in Review

I have been reading through some of my posts that kept me sane during the hard lockdown last year. If you want to take a gander at them, the first post is here.

Part of me can hardly believe it has already been as long as that, because those first three weeks feel like a distant memory. Sometimes I wonder if they indeed did happen, because looking back now, I realize that as tough as those first-three-weeks-now-more-than-three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days have been, I’ve adapted and grown.

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What’s the Worst Thing You can Step on in the Dark?

It’s not been the best week, so I’m grateful that it is Friday. Monday is the start of a new week and a new month. Historically February isn’t a good month for me; it brings with it many reminders that trigger deep bouts of sadness within me, but at least I know to expect them, right?

Anyhow, the inspiration for today’s post, comes from one of the pages I follow on Facebook. It had a post up today posing the question: What’s the worst thing you can step on in the dark?

I can think of quite a few things…

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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 Three’s Got Me Smiling :D

This post is going to be short and sweet (literally and figuratively!)

It’s Day 3 of Advent Town and I was overjoyed to get a lovely Waxees candle in today’s house. It even has a wooden wick which crackles as the flame burns. The instruction today is something I try to do every day: make someone smile. I like to think I succeed.

I must admit, having a countdown to Christmas is getting me in the festive spirit earlier than usual. I am already thinking about how to make the day special for my parents. I have ordered a delectable treat box and a fruit cake from Heavenly Treats Cake Boutique in Port Elizabeth for us to nibble on while we watch a Christmas movie after our planned lunch of cold meat and salads. Also, I am either going to make gifts or buy from friends that have their own businesses. Pity none of them have their own winery!

On other news…

Last night I stayed over at the Toppie and the Bean. The Toppie made apricot jam, which spurred me on to make a pot bread. The combo = amazing! The Toppie gave me half the bread, which I will be taking with to Nikita and Jack’s house tonight; I’m cat-sitting for them until Sunday.

I’m excited for Saturday morning. Carla, four of her friends and I are going to a high-tea experience at a local boutique hotel – a belated celebration of Carla’s birthday. I am happy to report, despite carrying some extra kilograms around, I still fit into my 1950’s-style dress and my red high heels, which is what I’ll be wearing. I look forward to the day when the Coronavirus is a thing of the past, and we don’t have to wear masks anymore, so I can put on make-up and sassy red lipstick.

Don’t forget to take part in the Advent Challenge on my Facebook Page.