To Love, or Not to Love…

…Either way, you’re going to end up broken-hearted.

While Lord Alfred Tennyson wrote the poem, In Memoriam A.H.H. about his best friend who died while travelling abroad, it is often mistaken to be about heartbreak following a breakup.  After all Tis better to have loved and lost,/Than never to have loved at all is one of the most famous lines.

I was triggered into a spiral of sadness this morning, by a well-meaning colleague who joked, “is it age that’s making you forgetful?  Or are you in love?” I merely replied, “Being in love brings trouble.” He laughed and said, “Not too long ago you were so in love you were glowing.” I wanted to reply, something witty of course, to hide the stab of immense pain I suddenly felt at his correct observation, but my mouth had turned to the Sahara and my brain was completely blank: an empty, dark void.  In that moment that felt like an eternity, I could feel the burn in my eyes and the longing for being in love with my best friend, who just wasn’t able to reciprocate my deep-seeded starry-eyed passions.  In those fleeting few seconds, I felt like a complete failure, wondering why I’m always the proverbial bridesmaid, but never the bride; why I’m always one of the boys, but never the one for the boys.

I don’t have a bad life; not at all.  I have abundant blessings:

Incredible parents; solid, reliable friends, a well-paying job with decent colleagues, a car to drive, a comfortable flat, food when I’m hungry, my health and opportunities to see new places and experience new things (not as often as I’d like, but still).

I embrace my singledom, because I know many people would love to be in my shoes; not tied down by a husband, wife, kids or even pets, but sometimes it is lonely.  Sometimes there are things that would be so much more enjoyable coupled with a romantic partner.

So today I’m in a mood of reflection… was Lord Tennyson right?  Today it doesn’t feel like it ☹

 

Sleepless Mindfield

Now, I am meant to be sleeping, but despite taking a full sleeping tablet (I usually only do half during the week) and my other medication, I’m still awake. Charming!

My legs feel like lead. Steve pushed me to leg press another 10 Kg more than last week. That I could still handle, but hip lifts… Good Lawdy, them things are in a league of their own! My thighs are going to probably be stiffer than a corpse tomorrow.

Tarryn, my hairdresser (aka The Fairy because she was the most beautiful pregnant fairy ever) was at the salon on Tuesday when I went to Elena for my nails. She asked me quite bluntly, Where’s your ass. I told her it’s there, but because all my clothes are getting a little baggy, it doesn’t look like it. Truth be told, I don’t really have a well-rounded derriere, because my butt cheeks are on my chest. I’m very aware of (as Charlie put it) my great rack or as my Capetonian friend, Allan refers to them, The Girls.

Anyway, my bustline wasn’t originally what I planned on writing about when I started this post. Love was. Or rather the sacrifices one makes for those we love. When faced with a situation where you would have to either cause- or suffer heartbreak to save the one you love, would you really do it? And I’m talking about relationships between two adults here, not a parent for their child because that’s on an entirely different plain.

On the subject of plain, why is plain yoghurt apparently healthier than its flavoured counterparts? Is it because it’s free of colourants? Or is it just because it doesn’t taste pleasant? Like Chaimberlain’s cough medicine – tastes like battery acid, but my Grandmother swore by it. That, and cod liver oil. Blegh!

Personally, I believe almost any ailment can be fixed with warm salt water. Sore throat? Gargle. Sinus? Inhale. Constipated? Drink a glass of warm salt water and you’ll be shitting through the eye of a needle in no time. Guaranteed!

Okay, so this post went from tits to shit in just a few paragraphs, but at least my eyes are starting to feel heavy. Here’s hoping for some REM because if I don’t get any soon, I will not only have lost my mind, I may very well be Losing my Religion too.

Zzzzzzzzzz

Belief…

A lot has happened the past two to three months. Some of it hard, some of it easy, but all of it growth. As I approach the last year of my thirties, and I reflect on the person I am today vs the person I was, as short as a mere year ago, I often don’t recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror. She’s a little greyer, a little thinner, a little more assertive, less worried about what people think of her, a lot more open minded, and mirroring the behaviour of the people who treat her right.  The ones that don’t?  Well, let’s just say, they don’t know what they’re missing, which brings me to the subject of this post: Belief:  The belief in one’s self, the belief in others, and others’ belief in you.

No matter how I word this, it is going to sound conceited, but it’s not meant to be.  It is a statement of fact, akin to me telling you that the moon’s cycle determines the tide.

Many people, when they first meet me find me charming, and they’d be right. I have a stellar personality and I’m able to hold my own in most conversations because I have a broad general knowledge, acquired over the years through a love of (reclusive) reading. What they don’t know is how many internal battles I’ve had to fight to become the non-Sandra-Bullock-version of Miss Congeniality. Self-belief is something that I had intense struggles with when I was younger. I can’t tell you when it was no longer an issue for me, but I will be honest and tell you that although few and far between, some days my body gets snatched and I trip into a pit of self-loathing. This is where others’ belief of me carries me through.  It’s a circle – sometimes I’m in the pit, sometimes I’m helping others out.

Belief in one’s self doesn’t come from an Ivy League education, or being born into an affluent family, or having the best material things money can buy.  If that was the case, then a very large percentile of the world’s population would be unhappy and hateful. This specific belief has a two-fold root system which stems from

  • Something within, something intangible that tells you, “Despite the chips often being stacked against you, you’re doing good, Kid. Just keep doing what you’re doing”.
  • Valuable, honest, genuine people building you up, often amidst trials of their own.

388dd3dc1e7f79b30240295d074e0dd0

I’m going to make specific reference to my friend TJ here. She’s been a huge confidante for me about things I can’t discuss with anyone else.  She’s offered advice, encouraged me to move outside my overgrown-hedge-comfort-zone and told me to never stop believing that I am enough, that I matter and that everything that has happened to me until this point has been for a reason. This despite her receiving news that she has breast cancer (in the very early stages, so the prognosis is good).

Last night she used one of my insecurities and a person I care very deeply for to illustrate a point.  It was horrible!  Her execution was utterly reprehensible. She basically stripped me emotionally bare, and then revealed that I’ve grown in a certain area that I have always struggled with. She also illustrated the belief I have in the person she basically crucified to get her point across.  Yes, there is a positive outcome, but I was majorly pissed.  I called her a fucking psycho but her response was one that disarmed my shock and had us both in fits of laughter.  Her self-belief that her little sadistic exercise would succeed boggles my mind, but then again, it was very likely a calculated risk on her part.

She did call this morning in the wee hours to apologize, telling me that she believed in me enough to know I’d be able to handle what happened.  She’s right; and I’ve grown.  A few months ago, had this episode played itself out, I may have reacted very differently. I did tell her she doesn’t know the person she used as a pawn in her Cosmic Chess Game, and about that I’m hurt.  Her reply was, “YOU believe in him/her, MTM and because of that I believe in him/her.  It’s clear that the bond you have is strong.”

My belief in others depends on whether or not they rest on their laurels.  Shallow, I know, but I abhor people who want everything handed to them on a silver platter.  I know that life often deals hands that nobody expects, but in that instance, you’ve got two choices – give yourself an extra dose of self-belief and roll with the punches, or stand back doing nothing.  I have many dreams, some of which are on my dream board and I work hard to try to realize them.  I have other priorities, but my belief in myself, my skills and the support of the honest, valuable, real people in my life keeps me forging on.

Every day we just need to remind ourselves – we matter, we’re here for a reason and BELIEVE it!

believe-in-yourself

A Reminder to Say “I Love You, Mom”

Life is strange…sometimes it deals you a Royal Flush and you are soaring high above the clouds, because you know that nothing can beat it, and other times, it chucks the cards aside and changes the game to baseball, pitching you a curve ball so unexpected, you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is right or not.

In my job I don’t get to deal with as many people on the phone as with my previous jobs, but the few I do, I feel I have built a good repore (sp?) with. I heard from one associate that the person I normally deal with, Ray, would be out of the office for a few days as his mother had passed away.

I received a mail from Ray this morning, concluding that he was back at work. I don’t quite know why I sent him this mail, but something inside me kept urging me to do so, so I did.

“Hi Ray,

I heard from Patricia about your Mom’s passing. I am so sorry for you loss. I am not going to say I know how you feel, because I don’t think anyone does. I only hope that with time the sadness and longing will become less and that the good memories will stay with you forever.

With condolences,
MTM”

His reply was short:

“Thanks MTM. It’s tough, my heart is so sore.”

I can understand that – I can’t begin to imagine how hard it must be for a person to lose their mother, regardless of what age they are when the loss occurs. What I wasn’t prepared for was the overwhelming heartache I felt for Ray at that moment, nor the tears that followed. My heart too is so sore – and I don’t know him personally. He is simply a voice on the telephone…

As I sit here, typing this, I am overwhelmed by sadness and gratitude at the same time. Many of my friends have lost their Moms already, mainly to illness, yet I still have mine (and so often I don’t appreciate her enough). I am going to make a point of telling her today and other days too, that I love her. I’m going to stop assuming that she knows it.