Moodboard Monday: Grey

I swear, I just blinked, and a week went by. I can’t believe it’s #MoodboardMonday again already. Today’s colour is grey (or gray, depending on what dictionary you favour). It’s the colour of my mood and the fog that has taken up residence in my brain.

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Meh, Meh, Meh!

One thing I have struggled with during the lockdown is reading. I’m not sure why, because reading has always been a great form of escape for me. It’s as if my brain refuses to leave the place it’s at now to go to places of fantasy, murder, and intrigue. It’s frustrating to say the least.

Maybe it’s because I’m feeling like John Coffey in The Green Mile, which coincidentally is one of my favourite books.

There is a lot of awful stuff going on. Not just in South Africa, but globally. It makes me sad, even though I know there is nothing I can do about it. As far as possible I try to live in my little bubble, oblivious to what’s going on around me, but the muck still filters through.

I’m not sleeping again which isn’t helping matters either. I am waking up at all hours, thinking about all kinds of things.  Most nights it’s my aunt and how her diagnosis has affected The Bean. The two of them of more than sisters, they’re soulmates, family politics aside.

Other times I lie awake wondering if there is oil to be struck in my driveway. I said to Elizabeth earlier this week, “five years ago we earned less than we do now, but it was as if life was better.” We used to go out once a month for dinner and a glass of wine. Since the middle of last year, it just wasn’t possible anymore because of rising costs and our money devaluing almost weekly.

The lack of sleep means that my fuse is short. I am irritable and constantly craving carbs. I baked two loaves of bread on Sunday while at my folks. The one decided to explore outside the baking tin, so I got creative. The Bean and The Toppie kept the larger loaf and I took the smaller one home. Before I could really enjoy it, the ants made a meal of it, so I had to toss it in the garbage. Argh!

In other (less depressing) news, my windowsill garden is thriving. Eliza and Nathan offered that I can transplant the little veggie plants into their big garden at home, seeing that I don’t have the space. I will take the plants when I go and visit next week. I’m not good company at the moment.

What I need is sunshine and water. I’m progressing with the latter. I shall take a walk during the weekend. It should do me good.

Until next time, stay safe and let those close to you know you love them.

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

This Star is Being Swallowed by a Black Hole

I’ve had a foreboding for quite some time that something is amiss, but I have yet to pinpoint exactly what it is. I’m so out of sorts – a chameleon on a Smartie box doesn’t even come close to me.

I’ve had ridiculous migraines the past few weeks, and insomnia for ages again.  But for the first time in almost two years I had a panic attack on Thursday night during my mandatory sleep over at Erica and Nathan.  It was one of the worst I’ve ever had, but I didn’t want to disturb them or their two boys aged 2 and 5, so I dealt with it as best I could.  The attacks exhaust me physically and mess with my brain chemistry, which may also explain why I am feeling like the world should just end and be over with it.

As a result of the physical tiredness, I spent virtually the whole weekend sleeping as I was able to.  My body and my brain are taking strain and I’m doing the best I can, under the circumstances not to be the proverbial camel.

February is one of the worst months of the year for me.  It has been ever since I can remember.  It brings with it the Hearts & Roses Hallmark Holiday (excuse me a second while I go an vomit in the nearest trashcan, will you?) and with that reminders of how I’m always good enough to be with until someone younger, prettier and less intellectual comes along.  Every year it gets worse, and as the big four-oh looms later this year, I am feeling it extra hard this year.  This month also brings with it memories of loss that make my heart ache with melancholy.

Yesterday Malcolm would have been 48. I wanted to send Aunty Lynn and Uncle Derick a message to say I was thinking of them (I was!), but I was too afraid they’d call and want to talk about him.  June he will be gone four years; his death hit me harder than I care to admit. What I’d give to have one more conversation with him.  I miss him so much. For an entire lifetime he was my cousin, but for a few years he was my best friend.  He’d totally get what I’m going through now.  He’d probably crack some corny joke to get me to smile, but more than that, he’d open his arms and let me cry on his shoulders until my eyes were swollen enough to resemble those of a boxer on the wrong side of a tight left hook.  In this screwed up world, he was one of the few people that ‘got’ me and he loved me with no judgement.

I had been very reflective as a result of the pending date, and already feeling a downer on the prowl during the work-week, I made arrangements to take a walk with Carla yesterday.  We walked for almost an hour and I measured it with the car – 3.2 Km, because the stupid GPS froze and according to the fitness app I was using to map our walk, we did less than a mile.  Argh!  The walk didn’t have the desired effect of physically exhausting me to the point I’d have liked, so I lay on the couch reading The Book of Joy, which I borrowed from Erica.

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I’m enjoying it, although I will concede whatever I read yesterday, I’ll have to reread, because I wasn’t in the right mindset.  The book deals with the very feelings I am having now, and how to still have joy despite them.  I definitely want to get myself a copy because it will be a book I will definitely reread in the years to come.

The heavy cloud that has been following me for the last few days was also darkened by the fact that the guy who I was good enough to see through his divorce four years ago before leaving me for a blond 10 years my junior (17 years his) and getting engaged to her on Valentine’s Day (a mere two weeks after meeting her) decided it would be a good time to try and catch up by following my (very seldomly used) Instagram.  The first thought that went through my head, was Fuck you, Jack and the second one was block.  I had heard rumours from a quite trustworthy source that there is trouble in paradise and shortly after he pulls a (dick) move, thinking I won’t notice.  It angers me immensely when people insult my intelligence and my intuition.  I’m probably one of the most compassionate people you will ever meet, but I can cut you off like a dead branch and toss you into the fire without looking back.

The heaviness I feel is because of many small things all rolling towards me at the same time.  Think scourge of mosquitoes and you’ll have an idea of what I mean.  The only difference is that I could be sleeping with the G.O.D fan on and they’d still get to me.  I have to keep reminding myself that this too shall pass and that everything happens for a reason, but right now those mantras are not grounding me enough to focus.  I’m a mess -Shattered, hopeless and resentful and I hate it!  I’m a strong person, but sometimes I just need someone to take my hand and tell me Everything’s going to be alright.

So, I’m going to do what I must, to look after myself first, because I’ve been too strong for too long and it’s catching up to me.  The best thing I can do for myself is to rest, even if that means sleeping for two days straight and saying NO! when I can’t take on more straw.  I try to get away once a quarter, but I have a goal I’m saving for (the silver lining is already out in The Universe :)), so the rest will have to be at my flat, where I’ll have to fight the distractions that are all over the show.  Another thing I should do is write more, I know, but right now, that in its own is undue pressure.  I’ll get there. Eventually.

I will also remind myself of this every day until I feel better:

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I promise my next post will be more positive.  Who knows, maybe I’ll do something I haven’t done since school and review a book – The Book of Joy

Mixed Bag

I took a bit of time out with my folks and trotted off to Port Elizabeth with them for a few days.  We were fortunate enough to get a complimentary stay at the Garden Court at King’s Beach.  The weather was gorgeous, and we only had one windy day.

After a rather boring drive home, I had news in my inbox from my tutor..and it was GOOD news.  I scored a 70% average on my third assignment (70% for the first part and a whopping 90% for the second).  I was so happy – happier than I have been in quite a while.  She sent me a quiz for my major character to complete (because I need to develop her more), so in true Sunday fashion, I will do it tomorrow, just as Cindy does – as myself and as my character.  I hope it will make for some interesting reading 🙂

The farm contacted me, asking if I would be willing to train the person that is temporarily sitting in my old chair (they can’t find a replacement…), to which I agreed.  I agreed to four hours last Saturday and today – which went off without a hitch.  My feathers got ruffled when I got a call just after five PM today asking me to come in immediately, for something which literally took two minutes to sort out, but which they couldn’t understand on the phone.  I booked an hour of my time though.

My parents, along with Aunty Carol and Uncle Barry are going on a cruise next month on the luxurious MSC Sinfonia.  Mom has said if I can get half the fare together (R2925), then she will come to the party with the remainder.  After all my accounts have been paid, I have almost half of the amount, so I need to get creative and entrepreneurial to get the other half together, but I’m sure I’ll make it.  I have been on a cruise before, last March, but it turned out to be a bit of a disaster, so this time I am going to pay a little extra and have a cabin to myself and spend time having a holiday that I want.  Mom hasn’t told Dad about her plan, but he will agree…he always does when it comes to seeing me happy.  I know too that they won’t expect me to spend my entire cruise in their company – since my diagnosis, they have been more accommodating about me doing what I want, without too much hassle.  I don’t think they realize just what it means to me.

Anyhow, I am going to watch some mindless TV programme, while I devour half a Greek Chocolate Slice and half a Custard Slice – I need a bit of sugary indulgence…

Hmph!

Warning:  I am in an extremely foul mood.  Use of expletives to vent my frustration is required.

Fuck, fuck FUCK!!!  It might as well have been Friday, the thirteenth today. 

The girls from work and Sandra’s friend, Kerry and I all went out for dinner to Panarotti’s last night – eat all the pizza you can for R49-95.  The hangover is the result of two glasses of free red wine because we had to wait an age for a table, and then a half a litre of Sangria with dinner.  My poor aching head.

To add insult to injury – Mom, in her infinite fucking wisdom, decided to have new remote controls activated for the garage doors, house alarm and new safety gate.  Why she insists on fixing something that isn’t broken, only she will know.  This morning I couldn’t get into my garage at all – not with the new remote, nor the old one!  And I was already late for work.  Fuck!  So, when I went upstairs telling her I would have to use Dad’s car to get to work, she almost had a hissy fit.  As if it is MY fault that the stupid fucking remotes aren’t working.

On my way to work (now even later than I was before!), I got pulled over by the traffic cops for a routine check.  THAT at least went off without a hitch, because quite honestly, if the traffic cop had fined me, I would probably have ended up in the chookie for crimen injuria.

Right, at work, things just seem to get worse…arriving late (obviously!) and then walking straight into the proverbial shitstorm.  Fridays are generally not good days at the farm because of millions of meetings and reports that have to be completed before lunch.  Imagine now how one is supposed to do the million reports when there is no electricity, until just after nine, and no coffee until then either!

Finally online, the reports begin…I pop off to the loo only to discover no water – the unexpected, excessive rain has resulted in a burst pipe 😦 

It is not a good day…on the flip-side, it can only get better (I hope!)