Hello from a grumpy me on a chilly Joburg Monday morning

It’s been a weird weird year so far – it’s May and I still haven’t figured 2014 out. Started with my amazing getting hitched quite spontaneously, followed by my nephew going to live with him (and not me) in Newcastle, a weird break-up with a somebody I enjoyed, some general disinterest in my every day and frustration with mundane same sameness path I seem to be on, skip some existential crises and pity party fests; last week I had a car accident and wrote off my beloved Bokomo. I knew it was time for a new car, however I hadn’t yet accepted this inevitability in my life. I wasn’t ready to go back to paying car installments yet.  Just wanted more time I guess; to really think about this big and (in my opinion) grudge purchase. Why on earth do I not live in a walkable city with amazing public transport?

It seems that 2014 has been a year, so far, of creatively negotiating the unexpected. It has not been as testing as other years seem to have been, but hard enough anyway.

My friends tell me that I am terribly hard on myself and that sometimes I need to be kinder to me. This mindset change is a bit of a biggy in my world because I am so used to falling into the negative in any situation and I refuse to see to the positive. For example, I break a glass and I torment myself for being clumsy and start questioning everything else I do. Obviously seeing a lesson in absolutely everything is heavy and unnecessary, but I do it. I don’t know if it works for or against personal growth, but I’ve decided to try find the silver lining in everything or at the very least; not take every damn thing so seriously and to stop blaming and berating myself for every single that happens. Sometimes its just life, sometimes it means something, sometimes it means nothing.

In any case, this is me trying to keep from crying over spilt milk. This is me making a public promise to be nicer to myself. This is me having a moment and trying not to be over indulgent about it even though I’d rather just crawl into a hole and ignore the world for the rest of the year.

I prayed things would change, and now here goes. Change is inevitable and I’m coming to terms with the fact that I can’t control everything. Good or bad. It’s my choice how I let this play out and how I rise to the occasion.

Either way, I need to some imphepho and burn the hell out of this bad juju and keep it moving.

I think I’m over sentimental about Bokomo because we have been through so much together. Some great memories and some terrible. I remember long trips to the Eastern Cape with her, the time she was stolen while I’d walked to a garage 400m away because she’d stopped working (i looked under rocks for her), the time she got broken into while I was giving food packages to homeless people on a rainy Christmas afternoon, racing down M1 in complete silence and being grateful for my freedom, using her as my mobile wardrobe with a minimum of six pairs of shoes all over, the rickety sounds that taught me I know (old) cars well, the days and nights of great times with friends. After I got my driver’s license, I would walk right past her in the mornings, opting instead to take taxi’s to work because I could not bare the idea of clutch balancing. I’ve cried in her, laughed, screamed, danced, and even though I was usually alone in her, I felt like our history and future together always kept me company. One of my saddest memories with her was when my father told me of the passing of my mother in 1999. I was in the passenger seat trying to break the window so I could jump out, run down the street; believing that if I ran fast and far enough away, the news would not be true. I couldn’t get out. and now I can’t let her go. I don’t want to. I will have to.

My Bokomo
My Bokomo

Ah life, you cruel and beautiful thing

Love & light and may the journey forth be filled with good.


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