How is everyone doing?
Are we transitionining into adulting smoothly?
I have survived my first week back at work, and back to school for my son, YAY!
I am still at it, trying to be true to myself and living out my word for 2020.
I try to drink as much water as possible,
I try to get as much sleep as needed,
I try to eat when I have to and stick to three meals a day and healthy snacking.
I just have not become active – but that for another day. (To each his own please).
I was so drained the other night that I went to bed at 8 pm and still overslept the next morning.
I try to make my life easier by preparing our lunch boxes before going to bed. That way I’m not so rushed and frantic in the morning.
And this triggered today’s article.
Eight years ago, I lost my mother after a short illness.
It was very much unexpected, but then again, when is death expected?
As the last born I was unashamadely spoilt rotten by my late mother, so her passing was the biggest trial that could ever come my way.
I travelled down a dangerous self destructive path trying to bargain with GRIEF.
I often found myself in the claws of Marijuana and alcohol ‘’recreationally’’.
I was in the claws of partying until I felt absolutely nothing due to fatigue.
Anything to fill the void I felt in my soul. I wonder how I made it to work on some days.
However, I managed to keep a balance. I worked hard and I played even harder.
The harder I played the bigger the void became.
Looking back, I realise I was impossible to keep up with.
There would be endless fights with my person and he would apologise, as if he was in the wrong and his apologies would accompany bunches of beautifull flowers.
That would make me so livid! Because, What would flowers do to my bleeding fucking heart?
But he meant well, poor guy.
He stayed despite all the mayhem and the frustration of dealing with me, trying to defeat grief.
Then, slowly but surely, Mum’s death anniversary was creeping up on me.
I felt even more numb.
I skipped work one day and one morning I woke up and I felt as if I am the loneliest woman on earth.
That is when I decided to do it, I was convinced that there was no purpose for my life.
I had enough of the wild nights, the crazy friendships, the crazier parties.
On a soulful Sunday a bunch of friends got together for Sunday lunch and drinks were flowing. I did not dare tell anyone that the hurt was consuming me.
When the day was over, I did it.
Why explain myself? Who will I explain myself to?
As I was about to drift off, I received a text from a close friend and I used that window of opportunity and replied: ‘’ I am leaving, goodbye’’.
She acted fast, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the State Hospital.
Vomiting my guts and pride out, with a young doctor reprimanding me. There was so much noise around me and I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I was discharged. No counselling, no observation.
Prostituting my body by pumping pills out and they letting me go home.
My person was notified, and he was furious.
I refused to deal with him then, I was too tired. The next day, he visited, accompanied by a bunch of flowers.
I was lying on the couch, weak as hell and he knelt down in front of me, tears running and I cried with him too.
I was gravely depressed and suicidal and I pretended to be okay.
From that day onwards, I was instructed to make him a lunch box everyday and go drop it off at his office every morning.
He figured, fixing him a lunch box every day, would give me purpose again, something I needed to wake up for.
So cheesy right? But it worked.
It was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
Eight years later, I still battle with the claws of depression, but I have never been back there in that suicide pit ever again, and now I do have a purpose, someone else to take care of.
And 8 years later, he is no longer my person, but through that act, he saved my life.
Sending light and love to whoever is fighting the dark demon called depression.
It’s never easy.