The day I almost died

I woke up one morning, with a new vigour that I had never experienced before.  Unusual to my nature, I made myself a big breakfast with coffee.  I then went up to my bedroom and put on my laptop to watch a movie.  I would study the afternoon.  You see, I was on leave, and would have enough time to study for my exams.  I had an important exam the following day.  Well, I guess all of them are important.  Nonetheless, I was ready to tackle this thing from different angles.  I had all my notes, question papers, the works.  What I did not know was that it would never happen.

I woke up on an unfamiliar bed.  Well, kind of.  I had been here before, I just could not place the place.  My head was spinning, and I could not understand what was going on.

I caught a bit of the conversation of the people that were in the room. “She’s the one that tried to commit suicide.”  But..?

Of course, I had not tried to kill myself.

Let me explain myself.  That afternoon when I sat on my couch to watch that movie, I don’t even recall what it was, I did not intend to kill myself.  I just wanted to feel numb, like my insides.  You see, all I took were 9 pills – that’s all I had left.  I had given the rest to a friend to keep safe so that I wouldn’t overdose.  See, at the time I was a danger to myself, and the only way was to ration my medication.  Except she had forgotten to give me only one pill.  So in my attempt to feel numb, I almost killed myself.

I had lost time to darkness.  She says I was convulsing, frothing at the mouth.  What saved me is that she is a nurse.  She knew what to do.  But she was scared too.

So, I woke up in a strange bed, with no shoes on, and no one to blame but myself.

The guilt, it tears you apart.

What if I had died? What if I had succeeded? Was the dark all that would come? Or…

A day in my shoes

Walk a day in my shoes and tell me you can survive,

Walk a day in my shoes and tell me you’d enjoy being alive

Wherever I go, people wanna know who the father of my child is,

They’re never ready when I say the nigga’s a rapist

They’re never ready to accept my truth as the truth

Always thinking that I must have been loose

That girls with the same story as I must have made it up

That we’re only riding predators through some kind of set up

My therapist must probably thinks I’m sick in the head

Because I cry too much, with nothing to say, like it’s all prepared

Who knows what it’s like to get over this kind of thing

Lil shits walking around like they’re a king

All I know is it’s hard

having to live with this part

never truly fulfilled

wishing I could rather have been killed

So, when you judge me on my woes, by asking questions cruel

Try just for a little, to walk in these broken shoes…

Live

So who do you tell what

Am I always going to live in a world where people judge me for being who I am, how I am

Am I always going to live in a world where I have to hide the fact that I take so much medication, and why I take so much medication

Am I always going to live in a world where I have to smile, cause people think I’ve cried enough, and that they’ve had enough of my sulking?  It’s not really sulking, it’s just who I am, and how I am

Am I always going to live in a world where I am alone, cause no one has the capacity to handle all the person that I am

Am I always going to live in a world like this, am I always going to live

Gone

So, I came across this verse today, actually about a minute ago or so

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1

I’m under heaven, right?

Right…

It’s the time for everything and season parts I don’t get

I’ve been struggling for years with this thing,

misdiagnosed a couple of times by different people,

mistreated as a result, by different people,

and also thrown and left in a psych hospital once (I don’t even know if that can be called a hospital)

I think sometimes my mind flirts with insanity – I fear one day I will just not be lucid

 

All things considered, I thought I was making progress, dear readers

But I’m here again

Suicidal again – if you’re gonna ask me what happened, or whether I’m depressed or upset or feel like it’s all too much, or that I want something (a lot refer to “the pain”) to go away, you clearly do not know what a suicidal person goes through, or where they’re at.

You know the feeling you get when a weight has been lifted off your shoulder?

You feel light, relief, free, and carefree.

You may be around people, but their voices are already far away,

you may try to sing along to music, but your voice is already gone, but it doesn’t bother you,

you may try to think (or remind yourself to remember to think) about a loved one, someone you usually would die for, but that thought is behind a soundproof glass door in front of you, so you can’t really hear it

you no longer try to smile as hard as you normally do, you just do, however, because you’re no longer sad

you may even get a million banana milkshakes (yes, I  like those, or at least I used to), you stopped eating long ago, but you’re okay

you talk a lot, but you’re not really saying anything meaningful

you start making a memory box and tidy up (I don’t do tidy guys, but my place has been tidy for over a week now)

contingency plans, much?

 

Well, here’s the thing, when will this season end?

I am trying guys, I even told my therapist, and I’m going back to hospital, but really what the hell am I doing? It’s like all this is on purpose…

 

 

Running

Today I tried very hard to run away from thinking about killing myself,

from killing myself

I slept, I snoozed my alarm for two hours, at 10 minute intervals each

I thought of telling someone

ask for help

ask for someone to stand guard

I woke up

I deleted my whatsapp

I thought about telling someone

I washed dishes

I thought I should call someone

I made food

I thought of texting someone

I ate

I wondered who I could talk to

I washed dishes

I asked myself who would understand

I cleaned my room

I thought of my therapist

I took off the washing

I wondered what help it would do to take these pills, I’m not feeling overly emotional – so what would they help, they’ve already calmed me down

I considered what I would say to my psychiatrist in January, when I have to check in with him on my six month check-up

I studied

I wondered who would understand

I washed dishes

I thought about doing yoga

I made coffee

I wondered if Patience was okay, I haven’t seen her all day

I stood outside

I deleted my facebook

I sat my desk

I wondered if I should text Katlego

I cut my wig shorter

I went numb in thought

I showered

I wondered if I should call my lecturer

I talk to some people

I wondered if God would understand

I came back to study

I thought of my anti-depressants

I took a walk

I wondered if I should break my phone

I stood with a bunch of people who talked

I wondered if any of them could see what I was thinking about

I thought of telling someone what I was thinking off

what I was trying very hard not to think about

I thought about my daughter,

about the fact that I haven’t called her yet

I wondered if I should post this

I wondered if I should call a hospital,

what would I say

I wondered if it would even matter

 

When my honesty freaks you out

This was exactly part of the reason why I refused to get involved in the beginning,

exactly why I refused to give you my number,

because I’ve always been me

and I’m unable to be only parts of me

 

You said nobody should be alone,

that everybody needs someone to talk to,

someone to comfort them,

someone to cuddle with

someone to be physically intimate with

 

But you had no idea,

you didn’t know what flood gates you were trynna open

what deep waters you were treading into

 

But you persisted

rejection after rejection

 

Until eventually, you broke a lil piece of my wall

 

What you didn’t know was that you were introducing me to a taste of comfort

and that over time you were becoming my safe haven

that you had led me into a world of trusting

trusting you

 

I fell into a world where I could be nobody else but me, with you

 

So I opened up,

 

But not even 2cm in and you got the shock of your life

 

You forgot that you had told me that you could do a better job than my therapist,

cause what in fact were you thinking I was saying when I rebutted your proposition that everybody needs someone to talk to, by telling you that I was content just talking to my therapist?

 

What, you thought I was just a melodramatic girl with premium medical aid to waste?

 

So you spun yourself into utter disbelief when my tears just couldn’t stop

and when I told you the truth, that I was dying inside

cause it never resonated with your sleeping mind when I told you I had physical intimacy problems

 

Yes, we’ve been intimate

and it’s been great,

and you have made me feel like I could love my body again,

that I could let my body be loved

and that my boobs are not to be hidden in bras all the time

and that it’s okay to touch and play with my body without feeling like I’m filthy

or even crying cause it’s not working the way it should be

 

You won’t know, but I got that vibrator as a tool of rape therapy

not because of some promiscuous fantasies or anything

 

But you wouldn’t have guessed any of that cause you made me forget to put up my guard

and you hugged me so well, it wasn’t scary to be held

and over time it became such a comfort that I actually felt safe in your arms

But you wouldn’t know that up to now you’re the only one I let hug me

 

But you wouldn’t know that cause it worked out so easily for you

and you haven’t been in my world long enough to know that when I said those words to you, that I was actually letting you know how terrified I am of being touched

by anyone

 

So it freaked you out when you had to come over cause I’d been crying all day after someone just touched my arm,

yeah, you have forgotten all about our first encounter, haven’t you?

 

And you won’t know cause I never told you,

but the last time we were together was the first time I wanted to tell you to get off me

cause it was the first time I actually felt sexual unease with you,

like I did with all the others before you,

cause you’ve broken my trust

 

And I guess you’ve forgotten the biggest contention I had in giving you my number when we met,

that you’d give up on wanting to be with me at some point,

and I really wasn’t trynna be mean,

I was just pointing out and trynna avoid the inevitable

because it hurts

 

but you persisted

 

And now my phone’s quiet,

and you’re freaked out

cause now you believe, with no hindsight – cause you’ve forgotten what I told you – that I’m seeing a therapist

 

And at a time when that meant anything at all,

it would’ve translated to “I have deeply-rooted issues”

and “I can’t pretend superficial in my relationships”

cause it’s already hard enough putting up a daily show for everyone else in the world

 

Funny thing is, though I was reluctant and suspicious (as always)

I believed you

 

when you inferred that it didn’t matter

I’m sad and in love

What does it take to fall in love?

Some say it’s a smile, some say it’s a touch,

It could be a kiss or the passing of time

I can’t say for sure,

But I will say that I am

 

And being that as it is,

It makes me very sad.

 

Cause I’m not the kind of person that people keep,

They glean in on little pieces, fragments, of me and they run.

 

Because I don’t know how to do superficial,

Nor do I know how to pretend “normal”

I don’t bother with friends,

Cause it’s too much work,

And I don’t have those kinds of resources.

 

So now, I’m in love,

And the dark cloud has come for a visit.

It usually stays a long while,

I know just to ride it out,

Not to rush it away,

Not to question it,

Nor to push it.

None of that helps, so I ride it out.

 

But will my new love last through the storm?

 

Cause my first love left at the mere darkening of the sky.

SPanglish :(

So, I have been very busy with tests, and soon I will be writing my exams – my first set of exams in a trillion years (I exaggerate, my first set of exams in 5 years).  I do apologise about my absence online, I am not really good at the online thing anyway.

Anyhow, I am writing today, because I felt that I absolutely needed to share what is on my mind.  I am actually at work right now, and should not even be engaging in personal activities, let alone social networking (is this even social networking?  Well, I think it is).

So, I have been in this job for a year and a couple of days, and it’s been good and bad – mostly good (but I think I was blinded by the fact that I actually love the kids whom I’m surrounded by).

Thing is, my interview was conducted in SeSotho, Afrikaans and a tad bit of Afrikaans.  The requirements – well, one of them –  for the job were that I be conversant in English, Afrikaans and SeSotho.   I understood the reason was that the management wanted to accommodate students from all walks of life, and make the centre accessible to those who struggle with English and Afrikaans.  As a bonus, I know Xhosa, thus I am able to also converse with Zulu; Swati; Sepedi; and Setswana speaking people.

Great, right???

Nope, not what my boss said this morning.  He walked into my “office” and told me that as of today, the only language that I ought to use with the students is English or Afrikaans.  His reasoning was that their vocabulary  is lacking.

Wait, what?

You get these kids into a culture where they can feel comfortable in their home language when inquiries, and a year later, you tell them it’s no longer okay to express yourself in your language.

I am sorry, but I do not get how this is to work.  I see how he believes that this will grow their working use of the language, but in truth, it is very awkward to unteach someone something that you had already taught them was okay.

I am able to just switch from one language to the other, but these kids struggle with English in class, and now they must struggle with it in a setting where they need to be comfortable enough to inquire about the things that they are too scared to ask their lecturers about?

And how about we also stop speaking Afrikaans completely as well?

Please help me with this, I think my boss has lost his mind.

Love is a losing game

So, I haven’t written in a while, I can explain.

I have just started studying again, and work and study are a handful, so my apologies for leaving a drought here.

I don’t have much to say today, except that love is a losing game – as expressed in the song by Amy Whinehouse…

I met a man, fell for him, and this morning I found out that he is married.

I have a test later on this afternoon, I hope to be okay for it, and to do well because I did prepare for it.

How someone could be so evil as to look someone in the eye and lie like that, is beyond me.

Anyhow, wish me luck for my test later on.

Maybe on another day, I will write you a full detail about this, right now I am just numb

Breaking silently, rapidly

Breaking down is not something that is readily spoken about, more especially in the age that we’re living in.  We are more worried about saving face in front of our peers, colleagues, friends, family and more especially our parents.  I, for one do not need for anyone to see that I am falling apart inside, because I have so much to lose.

If you have read my bio, then you will be aware that I am an ex mental hospital patient, so I know what it is like when the ground gives way to all the things that come blasting out – those you have held onto for so long, and have not allowed to see the light of day that comes raying in through those eyes which you have trained so well to lie to those you so claim to love.

I like to think of myself as a very bubbly person, maybe disconnected from reality.  I am a receptionist where I work, but I take myself so seriously that I do not represent the cliché’s that one normally encounters when dealing with receptionist.  I have only two rules which I embody when I go to work in the morning, and these are (a). to look good, and (b). to be helpful and friendly towards every individual which enters the centre.  That said, I fear that my disconnect from reality, which I believe was caused by my short stint in that mental hospital – Fort England (I name it so that it seems more realistic to you), is catching up with me.

Now, I cannot blame one thing for my complete disconnect, but I do feel myself falling – and not slowly, but at a very rapid rate.  In the past when I would feel like this, this would be the time when I would take stock of my resources for committing suicide, and contemplate a follow-through with the one which seems most likely to work.  But, I am 25 years old, and I have a daughter to consider, so where does that leave me?

I have a wonderful job, with wonderful perks; I have a world of support from my family; and I am beautiful, so why do I feel like this cloud over my head is getting ever so big?

I spoke to Sam (my best friend) yesterday, and I told her that I was planning to go for counselling, but we both know that I probably never will.  There are many things I think I want to do, there are many things I say I want to do, but the scaredy cat in me just never does any of them.  I will list the ones that stand out the most to me. I want to completely quit smoking, start drinking water, jog every morning, take up tennis, and join a rape support group.  Those are the most important “need-to-do” things in my life right now, but it seems none of them are important enough for me to start doing.

Is it true that once you lose your mind, it will never completely return to you.  I think that statement is true in its entirety.  I seem normal, but I struggle to cross at intersections, not because I do not know my traffic light commands – but simply because I zone in too much on what’s happening and then I lose it – and then Sam gets mad at me because she cannot comprehend how a grown-up freezes even when the traffic light goes green for her.  I cannot take on too much stimulus, because I was stuck in a room by myself for so long, that for the past 5 years I have been learning how to have people around me.  I do not struggle with speech anymore, because I talk to people nowadays, but my thoughts still mostly remain in my mind.  I could be part of a conversation just by being present – my conversations with Sam are a very good example of that.  It’s not that she talks too much, she just knows that I prefer to keep quiet and nod, even when I do have something to say.  I used to just write it down or not say it at all, but now I just say anything – so sometimes it is inappropriate – it’s just really weird for me.  People complain when you don’t join in, but also when you do?

Anyway, there are so many things I think about on a daily basis.  I wonder how I would have turned out if I hadn’t had that nervous breakdown or been hospitalised, or been raped or had a baby.  I do not ponder these too much, because there is no going back to before any of these happened, but perhaps I would have been a very different person.

Maybe I would be a dr, or I would have contracted HIV by now, or I would have been dead, who knows?

For now, I am just breaking silently, rapidly…