We begin to die from the day we are born, or do we?

I often speak of my last life and my present life. My last life ended on 26 May 2007. Trapped in a motor vehicle, I briefly became conscious. I felt like I was burning from my abdomen down ward. You know that numbing, burning pain you feel when you hit your thumb with a hammer... Like that, but all over. When pain pulses and has more life than you do. 

I thought: it's not supposed to be so painful to die, but so what if it is... And passed out again. 

That was the end of my first life. I'd made my peace. I was ready to leave all the pain behind. 

But as it turns out, that wasn't the plan for me. Instead, I was introduced to a new life. A life of effort. A life of permanent pain. A life of weariness, depression, anxiety. A life of lifelessness, of abandonment. Where even I'd abandon myself, given the chance. 

Everyday becomes a battle of willpower. Irritability, anger, frustration, depression, pain, pain, pain. Pain.  Pain is debilitating. Bone wearying. Life draining. 

This life is not a life. It is an existence. 

Get up. No energy. Kids ready for school. No energy. Go to work. No energy. Pour your soul into work.. tapping into the reserves that would probably be required to one day get you to heaven, or use up the last few ounces of resilience against sickness. Asked if you're run down, you just can't answer. Because the clock has wound down too far for the muscles to move in reply, and the well of tears dried up. 

And on I push.  Misguided people look through their rose-glazed binoculars and use words like brave, inspirational and motivational to describe me. 

But all I need is sleep, quiet sleep, restful sleep, healing sleep. 

It's at times like these that I thank God for my family. They step in when I'm falling. They keep me going. Little hands, voices that won't stop, imaginary stories of knights and dragons. Soothing voices, sound advice, helping to pick up my pieces. Urging me forward until I can move again myself and loving me always... unconditionally. They know they can't take away the pain but they can help me through each episode, acknowledging my fragility without making me beg for help, giving me permission to ask without making me feel like less than I was before. Without humiliation. They see my pain, and, without pity, they compensate for my shortcomings. 

Their love pulls me back from the darkest depths of pain, and they give me the time and space to sleep and heal enough to carry on once more. 

Quite probably my most obnoxious blog ever... my "if you want to buy me a gift" list

Okay, so you may think this is seriously crazy but I can never remember any of the things I like when someone says... What do you want for Christmas or your birthday because, to be absolutely honest, I believe in being satisfied with what you have.

I get super-fuming with the whole materialist media shunt around this time of year and I try to teach my children to be happy with what they've got. So, if you've got a phone that works and it takes pictures and sends messages... you don't need a new one.

It's usually times like these when I'm sitting at home and it's November, and everything is running out, and I have both my boys birthdays in this month and I've bought them prezzies (only one nice one each) that I realise that my really nice body butter is getting finished, and my underwear is really worn out, and my deodorant is only going to last 2 more weeks (I hope), and I need a new compression corset for my back...  I'm going to have to wait for my Christmas bonus to get a new one...  there goes my new computer... and my next birthday is 38... a really funny age, nothing special but shockingly close to 40 for some odd reason. And I think of all the things I should have put on my Christmas and Birthday list... so what the heck, I'm going to write it right here for all the world to see!

1. A new laptop: Lenovo I7 processor, more than 4GB RAM.. or a macbook pro ... a girl can dream
2. A new compression corset... or 2. Not the most elegant of garments, and certainly doesn't look like lingerie but my back will love you for it. In fact if you're ever looking for the ultimate on how to pull yourself towards yourself, this would be it. But they really help my back, and it's not just my back that's worn out at the moment.  Compression Health up in JHB import them. 
3. Body Shop stuff that I use: like a whole year's supply!... Tea tree face wash (my son shares it), Tea tree shower gel, Shea butter/ginger/brazil nut body butter, shea butter lip butter 
4. Clothes... this requires taking me shopping
5. Hmmmm... a life? I need to start doing things, so I could really use a hobby. Maybe an off-road power wheelchair? 
6. A P.A. Yes, a personal assistant. Someone to do my filing and my photocopying and most of my admin, take my calls, fetch the kids, organise all that stuff. Wow! That would be awesome!

Okay then... if none of that fits your budget, I need

• new towels in brown  (bath sheets, yes, I'm fussy)
• interesting earrings... beaded ones, hand made
• awesome clips for my hair
• new sunglasses

If, for some reason, I actually remember that I posted this, and I come up with anything more... I'll add to it. But it will probably remain the same for the next few years. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday. And don't spend too much money... material stuff is just stuff.  

reading books goes digital...

I do believe it is always a good idea to try something new. 

I've had a few firsts this year... 

... I start a blogg

... I got a rat

.. a whole bunch more stuff happened..

... I became the mother of a teenager

So I went on a new foray this month... well actually, I popped into a course on digital storytelling when I had an odd spare moment and this is what I eventually came up with... It's my firstest ever try, but I think it may have lit a spark and I may try my hand at a few more... you never know.... I had fun.. the kids had fun and maybe in the next holiday, we'll make another one. 

Whew! Holidays are here

It has been one really long term.  With the amount of walking up stairs to lecture having doubled, the same effect was had on my pain levels till eventually my body gave up and decided to call in the cavalry- depression. 

Thank goodness for my support system. My Super-mom somehow manages to be there when the wheels fall off, even my dad is there propping me up, and then with a dose of therapy a dash something new to my cocktail I'm slowly pulling myself up by my bootstraps. 

My small boy does his best to soothe my soul with hugs and kisses and stories to be read, and my eldest makes an increasingly good cup of tea. But we're all relieved the holidays have arrived with a short reprieve in the daily rush. 

I dream of a slower time. Of unhurried cups of tea, and time to feel the gentle breeze. Of late, a howling gale, and crazy weather that matches my moods. Feet up and a good book... Well, that may be pushing it. I do have a ton of marking. But at least, I'll be able to have my feet up while I try to decipher the crazed ramblings of students' stressed writings. 

Voting day

Well voting day is upon us at last. We've heard all the politicians make their last slanderous attempts to defend their actions, the empty promises of how they'll spend taxes building homes for the homeless and educating the nation. 

The time has come to make our mark, get off the fence and have our minuscule say. 

At the end of the day, I personally feel that if you don't vote, you lose the right to complain about the government. Fair is fair, if you won't make the effort to decide on who gets elected you don't get to criticize their actions. 

When will?

When will I be seen? 

When will I be seen as a woman? In my essence to be loved and adored

When will I be seen as a lady? Beautiful, delicate, fragile as a flower

When will someone see past my intellectualism and appreciate my humanity? Vulnerable and gentle

When will someone see past my wheelchair to see my curves? Past my crutches to see the line of my neck? The softness of my skin and the strength of my willpower

When will someone see past the professional shell to the soft soul beneath? my heart which cries out in loneliness in the dark

When will someone see me? 

Views from my window

Isn't it funny how we see people? Our perceptions of others based on what we think they should be. An activist. A lecturer. An expert in a field. A car guard. 

As someone increases in knowledge, do we expect them to become more or less emotional. Outbursts should be rare, logic increased. 

And what of empathy? Does it become a rare thing or is it cultivated, pruned leaf by leaf as the master cultures his bonsai? Until it becomes a thing unreal by natural standards, a miniature of the grand old weeping willow which trails its leaves into to steam, hiding those within its shelter. But a bonsai can do none of this, at most it could hide words and thoughts before the drift stream-ward. Should we be mastered by logic? Regulated by rules and protocol? Where are the wings of creative and critical thought... The tools of universities and philosophers of old? Are we so tied up in the rules of the now that we forget the calling of old. 

Why are we here?