Inspiration. It comes from the strangest of places sometimes most times. More often than not, it isn’t really subtle either…
Today, the Giggling Gourmet, @Jenny Morris, whom I follow on Facebook posted a quote by Marilyn Vos Savant:
If you read my previous post, you will be more than aware of how defeated I felt, how close I was to tossing it all in the fuck-it-bucket and having a pity party of epic proportions. Giving up really did look like a promising option. Not only because of my flooded flat, which more than two weeks later has still not been assessed by the insurance for damages, but because of the struggles my parents have faced of late.
Mom still mourns Marley daily, and their living conditions leave a lot to be desired, but, with that said, acceptance of- or resignation to the fact that this is how things may be for the foreseeable future, has made things a little easier to deal with. I still hate having to see my parents live in an industrial area where all sorts of noxious fumes are the order of the day, especially with Mom’s propensity to bronchitis and asthma. The confined space that she and Dad have to share is also not ideal because he is frustrated to the point of physical aggression. Just yesterday, he tried to hang a shelf which he spent hours making. A piece of the wood split when he drilled it into the wall and he almost smashed the thing to pieces with the hammer. It worries me a great deal. I wish there was something I could do, but short of holding a gun to their heads, forcing them to come and live with me, my hands are tied.
Then of course, there are the tired expressions, such as, “this too shall pass”, or “it could be worse”, or “count your blessings, not your problems”, which I will admit, are all true. Hearing these platitudes from people who actually are in my- and my parents’ life is acceptable, but I have to muster every last bit of self-control not to tell other people who know us, but prefer to live in happy obliviousness in their ivory towers, to shut the hell up.
Before I get lynched, I have the greatest respect for the trials we all have to face, but no two situations are the same. Your wife leaving you for another man is regrettable and tragic, but so is my parents’ loss of almost everything they worked hard to build up. I could go on like a long-playing record, but I would rather not rant more than is necessary.
In between all of this drama, I had to still find time to complete my second assignment before my upcoming exams in June. I finished and handed in by the deadline, but part of me feels that had things been a bit calmer, I could have done more. I anxiously await the results.
Since last week I have received incredible support from not only my friends and my colleagues. Elizabeth and her parents put me up for a few nights, feeding me well (she still makes the best chicken pie in the whole world!) and allowing me to enjoy a glass of wine in the evenings. The restlessness of living out of a suitcase got to me though and I opted to take a colleague and his wife up on their offer of staying in the granny flat on their property until such time that my flat is habitable again. At first I was hesitant, but after arriving, and seeing a beautiful bunch of proteas on the table to welcome me, I immediately felt at home.
The stability of a “home-away-from-home” without distractions, has afforded me the opportunity to begin revision for my final exam. Heaven knows, I want to get this subject over and done with. Having failed twice, many years ago, I’m hoping that the third time will indeed be a charm, otherwise I will forfeit all the credits I have obtained to date, and then have to do the entire year over, which is something I cannot afford. So, putting the positive vibes out there – when I receive the notification that I have passed my Diploma in International Trade (Exports) exam, I will be celebrating with something bubbly – even if it is just sparkling mineral water.
The messages of care from friends far and wide have been a comfort in a time that has been so dark for my parents and I. A surprise visit from a Capetonian friend last weekend also did a lot to lift our spirits, as did a visit with Aunty Carol, Uncle Barry and some friends. Speaking of Uncle Barry – he worked incredibly hard to get dad’s car running again, which we are all so grateful for. Dad can now get to work every day without hassles or stressing about rapturous steam billowing out of the bonnet. Eliza and Nicholas have invited me to eat with them in the evenings (as they are very close to where I am residing for the interim), so I don’t have to cook. Yay!
To every single one of you, who has, despite your own storms, blessed my parents and I with words of encouragement, a loan to keep the bank from taking my car back, a pot of soup, a bed to sleep in, an ear to listen, a long, flaming-hot shower, a back & neck destress massage or who did a load (more like a mountain!) of washing. Thank you. You know who you are. You are the people that I will roll a boulder out of the way for.
So yes, things are not ideal, but they are 100% more ideal than they were in April. And for that, I’m grateful, because while we’ve been defeated, we’re a long shot from giving up.