Remembering stuff

I'm really not a fan of remembering death anniversaries... but this one has been lingering on my mind for a while... so I guess I just need to address it.

On Tuesday, 26 May 2015, it will be three years since my dad passed away.

Three.
Years.

I'm not sure how I feel about it. But I guess I'm sad.
Sad that it doesn't really matter... and sad that it really really does.

That's all for now.

White paint

So I finally managed to finish painting our garage door. It's taken about a month because of the crappy weather in Cape Town. And procrastination. Maybe.

And memories of dad. Definitely.

There was an unspoken rule at our house: Mom ruled inside the house and Dad could do what he wanted in his garden and in his garage. After he died, the garage got dusty and the garden withered to nothing. In my little way, I'm trying to keep him alive by bringing his garden back to life and making the garage usable again. 

It's been an emotional rollercoaster.... but it's good.

Anyway, back to the garage escapade. I had no idea what I was doing but after a bit of googling, I just kinda got to it. I worked really hard on scraping off the old paint and washing it with sugar soap. When I was at the paint shop, I tried to not look like a lost lamb and didnt ask for help. So I picked up something that had a red door on it... expecting it to be red paint. Well, when I opened the paint, it was actually white. Urgh. 

I was getting upset with myself at how stupid I was but.... then I figured I must really be channelling my dad because he would've done the same thing. He didnt really plan things out carefully. He just kinda got an idea in his head and made the best of the situation. 

So, while I carried on painting the previously very red door a very glossy white... I smiled. To me, it felt like I was wiping a slate clean... making a new beginning.... bringing in light to a dark place. I could go on.. but the point is it turned out ok. Even with all the mistakes along the way, it turned out ok.

*blink*

It felt weird painting over his work. I was thinking about him doing exactly what I was doing at the time. 

In a strange way, I felt close to him. Maybe I really  was channelling him in some way... 

I guess it feels strange because I'd never felt those things before. 

Maybe.... maybe... I could still get to know him.

All I know is... I have a white wall.

And it will turn out ok.

~ anib

Unpacking the house

I have only a few close friends that I discuss my therapy sessions with. It's not something that I share easily because the things I discuss in those sessions are things that I hide very well... evenfrom myself. I dont really love the sessions because it's such hard work emotionally. But I'm doing it because I have to. For me.

So, while discussing a particular hard sessions with said close friends, I was told that I dont really need to deal with all of my issues at once. My dear friend gave me the advice that sometimes it's good to put your issues in a box and pack it away to deal with later.

I laughed and quipped: "I hear you but... I have so many boxes that have been put away, I cant move anymore without tripping over them." My therapist thought it was a good analogy and, so, we continue unpacking the issues.

The interesting thing is, this image has seeped into my unconscious and now I'm having recurring dreams/nightmares of my house filled with boxes and me trying to unpack them. My therapist happens to have an interest in dream analysis so I've been intrigued by his opinions. And I really do appreciate someone that takes my rather interesting imagination seriously. :)

So the first dream I had, I was excitedly telling my close friends about how I was getting rid of all these boxes. Someone was going to take them away and I was excited about all the things I was going to put into my new house. Of course, I didnt actually do any of the unpacking and moving out of the boxes. 

The next dream was on the anniversary of my dad's birthday... which, in the conscious world, I didnt really want to acknowledge. In my dream, I was in a car getting ready to go somewhere. I turned around and saw my dad. I was a bit shocked but he seemed so nonchalant about being there so I calmed down and thought that maybe I had imagined his death and everything.... *sigh*

And then I'm in my house and it is stacked to the roof with stuff.. some in boxes, most not.  And now I'm getting desperate to get rid of them. I have all this stuff from everyone else that I need to get out but I'm not sure how. I remember about four or five stacked mattresses and telling someone to please just take it all away. 

And, while I'm panicking about this.... I retreat back to my aunt's place which is empty and warm and a happy place for me. But I'm not happy because I know I'm just running away from what I have to do.

And that's when I woke up at 4am and managed to spill boiling hot water all over myself and now have a burn wound all across my stomach. Lesson learned eh?

Yeah, yeah.
We'll see.

xx

~anib

For Dad

I thought I had nothing to add to last year's post... but this song is for you, dad. 

And for me.

Happy birthday.

x0x

The boy fast

I went shopping earlier today, trying a whole bunch of clothes in different shops. I haven't really done that in ages and it was fun. I'm not the easiest person to shop for because I'm not a small girl but as I tried on the clothes, I had some new thoughts in my head. Instead of thinking, "well it fits so I guess I should take it", I started asking myself  "do i really like this?", "does it flatter me?" and even "does this make me happy?". I never used to ask questions like that... in any area of my life.


So, for the last couple of months, I've been on a "Boy Fast" of sorts. Although I haven't been in a "real" relationship for years , I haven't exactly been alone. I fell into these relationships that were not really relationships, and got myself tangled up into all kinds of emotional drama. I didn't feel like I was hurting anyone (including myself)... until I decided to fall head over heels in stupid love with Mr T.

So apparently when I fall in love... and it's not reciprocated... I get mad and then sad... and then decide to stay away from boys completely. I cant explain why this one was different to all the others. My therapist blames the daddy issues. I cant deny that. But whatever the reason, I was addicted to this man. And I loved it.... needed it... wanted it.

It wasn't meant to be, however, but it did teach me an important lesson: I want to fall in love, be in love... and really want and need to feel loved in return. So I decided that I had had enough of crumbs and wanted something more. And so I waited to see what the universe would throw at me next.

It didn't take too long for another guy to show some interest (even though it was erratic). But I was proud that, for the first time, I didn't jump right in but, instead, decided to stop and ask some important questions like "do I really like him?", "is this what I really want?" and....  "does this make me happy?"

The answers were not easy to face and I realised that part of my problem was this fear of letting go in case... this was "it". What if no one better came along? What if I never get to have the family I want? What if I didn't really deserve the best? 

I've (felt like I've) never had the pleasure of a choice in men. I've always just kinda waited for someone to notice me and show me some attention. And then I would be whatever they wanted me to be. I guess it's pretty obvious why my relationships don't work out.

It's taken me a very long time to see this part of me. I haven't written about my Afrikaburn experience yet but it was a big step forward for me in terms of finding my own "space'. My intention was to turn into a butterfly which, for me, means becoming more of who I really am. And maybe I haven't figured it all out yet but I'm starting to realise what I dont want. And that's at least a good step forward.

So, with all the love and support of my new friends... I am exploring me and decided to rather not engage with men until I am strong enough to be my own person. My dear friend Manni wrote about part of my story here, saying "If her sabbatical from dating was the reason she'd become a lotus flower, then I was in desperate need of the recipe." 

And I do feel good. Better. But I guess it's always easy when you dont have temptation... ;) But, even after rejecting the last little temptation, I do still sit up sometimes at night and worry.

I worry sometimes that I wont feel that crazy love again for someone else. 
I worry that I'm too this or that for anyone to really love the real me.
I worry that my heart could go cold and I could forget moments like this... 
"There is something about Cape Town in your arms
when you drive away the cold with your warmth"
From Cape Town in May by silentcoder

I worry that I wont find "me".
I worry that I will.

So with all of that going on in my head... who's got time for boys....! 

~anib

daddy's little girl

Well there went January... oh and hello February.
I have actually been busy. I'll try to write more.
But, to be honest, having actual therapy is making this form of cheap therapy a bit redundant.

looking up

I survived Valentine's Day. It wasn't a big issue. I feel so loved and accepted by new and old friends at the moment. It's amazing. And new. I dont think I've ever felt like that before... even in a relationship. And that's um... well that's kinda sad, I guess.

I guess the trance parties are part of the abundant joy I have right now. It's a little piece of paradise that I find hard to explain. I try here. I've met new people... I've done new things... I can just be. Happiness!! :)

But still. It's hard to ignore the intimate relationship part of Vday. I didnt think about it too much... until I saw videos of Dr House singing again. Which reminded me of a "forever love" that was never really finished. Or maybe it was and I really didnt want it to be. I made the stupid mistake of saying hi again and... I walked away disappointed. Again.

I have to ask myself why I keep doing that.

On Friday night I was close to calling up the man-child again. I'm only grateful that I had blocked him on whatsapp and had to consider the hassle of unblocking and inviting him back into my life. Dinner for one worked out just fine. Although I did land up buying cigarettes because... I dont know. I guess I needed time to think and breathe.

Which brings me to the issue: why do I keep loving men who dont show me love?

*big breathe*

"i thought too much. i worried too much."

This is really difficult because I'd like to think that my dad and I had a good relationship. The honest truth is that we didnt have a relationship. And, for a very long time, I was just a little girl looking for love and attention.

My earliest memory was of him teaching me how to swim in the sea and him holding me while I kicked in the waves. But, earlier than that, I remember I did something really bad and he hit me. He never hit me after that but I guess I had always been trying to get his approval since. And maybe I'm still trying... looking for love in all the wrong places, desperate for attention. That's a hard realisation... and not an observation that I like about myself.

I had a whole bunch of other things going on as a little girl that I dont really want to go into here. But, in many ways, I felt very alone in the world. I guess I was always looking for someone to protect me and save me from bad things. That never happened. And I got horribly heartbroken every time one of my men let me down.  Living up to my impossible standards, I suppose that was inevitable. :(

So I'm spending some time with little ani again. She needs some healing. I've been looking at posts from my old StumbleUpon blog which included letters that I had written to her. At that stage, I was starting to get disappointed by my ex-husband and my world was falling apart.

1 June 2008: 
an ode to the little one
i have walked a long path with you, my dear
i should've held your hand and helped you
but it was you... you held me up..
you're a brave, strong little girl
and i will always love you
but now you can walk on your own
and i must grow up
goodbye little girl
*hug*

And again in 2010, after another heartbreak....

5 June 2010:  
little one... i love you. 
you're brave...and strong... and i love you... deeply. 
you are more than this... you are safe... you are loved. 
you are special... you are greater than your body.. your spirit shines bright. 
i love you. i love you. 
xx 

So here I sit... with this impossible heartbreak.
I dont know how to move on from here.

~anib

It's not perfect

I thought I wasn't ok in my last post.... I had no idea.
My father died last week.
He'd been ill for a long time now.... but last week... it just got worse.
He couldn't walk.. he couldn't breathe. He gave his last breathe on Saturday morning.

I didnt get to say good bye.
I wonder if he knew that I wanted to.
I wonder if I could've said or done anything more.
Something... anything... we just wanted a little bit more.

The funeral was yesterday. I gave the eulogy.
Some people said I was brave. I didnt know that I had a choice.
Today... I decided to not be brave. Today, I was sad.
Today I slept... holding the teddy bear he bought me when I was 13 (yes, way too old for a teddy).

old handsby ~fmamb

I've worn his wedding ring as a chain all week... but today I actually looked at it for the first time.
(Time to face the reality, I guess.)
It's not a perfect circle.
I guess 34 years of marriage takes its toll.
As does 74 years of hard work, I guess.
My father worked too hard... every fucking day in the shop... with not much to show for it.
We have enough. We'll be fine. And my brother and I are smart kids...  we'll be fine.
But I just HATE it that someone who is a good person, who never harmed a single thing, with a warm and gentle spirit... can still get fucked by this world.
Yeah.... I am angry at you, world.
So angry and so sad.
Because it's all just unfair.

*breathe*

I came here to say that just because it's not perfect, doesn't mean it's not good..... and ok.
But I dont feel ok today.
So no happy ending today.
Take that, world.

~anib