Tag: act

Sunday (April fool in Easter)

Toxic

Tis the season of this passionate Lent is closing….

For me it is the most important & most trying time of the year. The devil’s at work, always….

He works through many humans and the beast comes out to play with great intent. I bet he laughs at how we manage our relationships with others. Especially, how we manage the strained one’s. You know what I’m talking about- the held breathe, the rolling of the eyes, the constipated laugh or smile, the exhibition of welcome that we all know is fake….

All in the name of restitution!!!!

Restore what you may ask? Well you’re alone in restoring broken promises, shattered dreams, wilted dignity, echoing loneliness, reverberating selfishness – these are the remnants of Lent!

The Heart of our Home is cold, disheartening, shallow, mismanaged, it’s constancy measured by the challenging daily routine of “is there any to eat”? Why do you just make nice things for customers”? I want something lekka, with all your baking, why’s there never anything for us”? ” I don’t know what to do”! ” I can’t, I dunno why”! No one listens to me! I’m not respected in this house! The list goes on…..

These remnants, reflect in the screeching Crying, the insolence, the sheepish smiles, the sullenness of demeanor, everyday come what may, it is there gnawing & nitpicking, an endless song, you know the one – it serves to irk you silently driving you insane, when all you want to do is slam it with a hammer.

Home has become an atmosphere of indifference, of the individual, family unimportant, insignificant & a bore. Pity….

Too much time is spent on trivial arguments which only seek to validate the ” I’m” important, singular, an island far in the distance, so I may hold no responsibility for my actions, no remorse for my guilt…..

Lessons are imparted sometimes in vain, obviously it’s up to the taught to action what makes sense to them. This too is a pity, arrogance begets loneliness in those times when you least expect it….

I hope for you this Easter, its birth will bring inspiration to live your lives always with vision, for our journey is never as we plan.We know change arises like mist on the mornings break, beckoning us to breathe in its promise Urging us to untie that which knots us up Releasing over us an invisible shield,which harnesses only good to our path,defending our Deeds,protecting our Souls!

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Year End 2017

Finally

The last time I penned my thoughts, it was 3 months ago. It was a dark time. Home life had a huge impact on my business. Did I say it was a dark time?

I’ve been watching a number of family movies of late. They have all the answers, all the scenarios with they’re many solutions. At least it seems so. Well I have been wrong many times in my life and when my folks questioned and answered my insanity this past week, I got the answers I sought. My business didn’t fail, it isn’t failing, it is thriving. Despite my anger, my worry, my blessed Joshua, my first born, whom I love so deeply, who is a reflection of my heart, though its frustrated and pained, has been by my side urging me on, baking many batches of beautiful love, soaking up the hardness & indifference surrounding my fragile ego and giving me an embrace of forgiveness and love I trust so implicitly, more than myself, that all the time I wasted concentrating on the negative of the past 3 months, cannot replace the pride I have in having the best family in the world. My parents Amos & Carol Ann van Schoor, who still baby me, their first born, I need it, don’t ask me why at age 45 , but I still need my parents, I dread a future without them. My boys Joshua & Adrian, my heart & soul. My daughter Jade, who has suffered most of my pain, because I want her to never experience a future of hardship, I hope I have not ruined her sense of self, her warmth, I hope I have not ruined our future as mother and daughter. My youngest Xavier & Elijah. I don’t think God meant for us to live separately, I still have an opportunity to have an impact on their lives, I pray I have lots of time to experience their journey. Finally my grandson Zachary, it will always be etched in my memory, watching his birth, watching him grow since now almost a year later, he reminds me always of Josh, his spirit is the same, makes my heart ache with love so sweetly, I need to allow his Mom Jade to find her own place in the mothers hall of fame, gently coaxing, not criticising as we all endeavour with love, hope, faith, grit, strength and a fresh start to 2018.

God bless you and your families and may you have many precious memories in 2018.

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In a Shadow 

Shimmer

Winter has been very cold. The warmth has come from my kitchen. This house has no heat, except what I extract from it, or rather what I put into it. 

The shimmer was lost on me, I don’t doll myself up. I don’t wear make up. I live in my work uniform. Usually I would shine on a Sunday, but I don’t anymore, its wasted on my partner, who prefers to tell me how he’d like me to look, as opposed to loving every part of me including my lovely leather apron he bought Me…

It has a way of creating a chasm in our home. It reminds him I aim to make my kitchen a centrepiece of our lives. My kitchen is after all my stage and I am its Diva. I love cooking and baking and it irks him that I have a space he cannot compete with. He can’t, it brings me so much joy, he can’t ever win.. Sadly he compensates with shimmering flow, i don’t partake as I made a choice long ago I would not be her. I won’t sacrifice my spirit for meaningless banter over a shot of something. Sorry but banter is supposed to be light, airy, free, bright & happy. Not nitpick, insult, groan, envy & contemptuous. 

I wash my hair, he says it looks better when its dirty. I wear a dress he looks, then walks away without a word. It struck me tonight after he spent hours outside drinking in his car, that you can’t compete with the shimmer of a drink. Illusion is perception in its shadow. He trots in and expects attention I halfheartedly give, if only to keep him away from our 3 year old who doesn’t deal well with intoxication. 

This beautiful sibling of our 4 other children, the youngest, is bold like me. He doesn’t back down and cower in the face of a adversity. He is stubborn, bright & lives everyday to the fullest. He does have vices- he uses foul language, is demanding, busy, craves attention….

This Sunday like all the others is just an end to a cycle we rewind every week and redo again. ” I’m sorry, I have stress, I don’t like crying, I need to get somewhere, I don’t understand, I don’t want to be here, I can’t watch a movie if you people talk, I want what I want now, I don’t care- a man is a man, I told you not to do that, I will change if you stop nagging….

Shimmer until you illuminate this space and ignite with flame your dreams, don’t despair, your candle has a wick that can burn as long as you keep it lit. 
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Potential & Possibility

Bury

Your dreams are your own. It doesn’t always matter if others don’t share your enthusiasm. What matters is your perception of yourself, your trust in the vision you have & the distance you’re willing to take.

Journeys start small, they don’t end at any particular milestone, they give you the stamina to continue.

I many a time think of burying the past. I’ve made mistakes, faced disappointment, got discouraged. All my own making, OK not all but mostly. I remember when Anton was facing death, it was hard to face. I was working my butt off at a large lounge suite manufacturer at the time. I still love those days. I used to work late, and sitting in the taxi I used to ask God to make sure I was there when he died. I didn’t want a phone call…. I was lucky of cors that I got to be there when the the time came. He got alota visitors that day, my mom was feeling good, my Da’, oh my Da’ was a pillar of strength, still is.

You can’t always bury the past tho,  it haunts when you least expect it. Mine crawls into my dreams every now & then. I wasn’t a very patient person. Actually I’m still not, I get jumpy….

I like everything & everyone to fall into place with ease. I don’t want to explain how I want things, I want you to remember!

I want to forget sorrow, loneliness, despair & then I remember its those very things that enable positive turnarounds. You know ” the sunshine after the rain”.

Well a lot of rain falls here lately. Drenching us in cold, miserable cloaks, that drip, drip & keep us cold in our want for warmth, strong resolve, pleasure, happiness…

 But as long as we keep feelings buried beneath guilt, we can either drink or inject our pain away.

That seems to be the norm in our community anyway. You’re not good enough so you drink. You don’t fit in so you drink. You have hangups so you drink. I have to be honest. I feel if you pen your thoughts they might as well be honest? Unless you indulge in fantasy, whereby you have Cart Blanche to creatively embroider around the truth.

I live in a fantasy world, one where if I fight long enough people around me will change, improve, apologize, make amends. No here we don’t do that, we bury the truth & angrily defend our own right to mislead others. 
The next time I attend a funeral may I be so soberly drunk that I defy all decorum and spit out my truth, gently, softly without offence, if only to wake the next morning completely free, unburdened of guilt, happy, powerful, yes liberated & unafraid of confronting the corner I have yet to turn.

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Fight Within 

Bottle

Figuratively speaking a bottle is a negative load of nothing in our house. This bottle is a seductress who challenges our sanity, taunts our ph balance. 

This object of desire usurps my authority & the integrity of my nature constantly. She is an evil who drives a wedge between love of & love for anyone who matters. She is constant in her temptation, she is relentless, stroking an ego so insecure, that I wish at times that bottle I could smash & strike a blow so bloody it’s presence would frighten the day-lights out of my love, who cannot after much trying, find the willpower to fight against its power. For the contents of a bottle holds such confidence for a weak, bold, anguished soul that the fight this family has at staying together is reaching a fragile state. Children caught in the middle of substance abuse are emotionally neglected by the family who struggle daily to have peace, so longed for, that it keeps you wide awake in your dreams when you see the destruction of morals, of bounderies, of responsibility & accountability for actions you can deny in your wake from slumber induced by a body no longer capable of binging on that bravado of the bottle that’s been your friend for eons. A friend who holds your hand in a remorse no longer believed. 

It is sad that the norm is a taste I can no longer take, it makes us nauseous just the reek on a breath, it turns a once lovely home into a battlefield of will…

 

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Grab your Dreams

Distant

I popped in to get perspective.

A sabbatical is a holiday away from routine, from work right? To rest, gather yourself & start anew? This could last anything between 2 months & a year. 

Now what happens if you do this & your family has to suffer? The very women you insult & oppress, curb, ridicule, cage in? They feed our family. They toil hopelessly in love with their fare, waiting patiently to reach a target. They don’t sleep well, they ache for respite, but none is in sight. They make & bake & sell & stress & smile still hopelessly devoted to their dream….and then you piss on their parade every waking moment, hissing insults, massaging their shoulders, calming them down, taking care of the little ones, demanding satisfaction for your loneliness as you watch movies & relax, shaking the service bell when your thirst needs quenching or your belly needs food. Hurling crass words around like a hoola hoop. And….we toil, we sing, we shake our hips as the vibe on the radio pushes us on, as we measure, as we calculate, as we circumvent a problem that’s suddenly sprung up. Just to watch as your mood shifts up & down when the liquor races through your veins into your brain & derives upon a thought contemplating whether you should spew venom or soft soap your agenda. 

Its awkward when you have to look at yourself in the mirror when something went wrong. Your fault being that you were so afraid of a past experience, that if you had trusted you could’ve saved yourself a whole lot if trouble. Pity I didn’t trust & chose fear! My heart aches today when I realise some people want you to fail! There is a family of venom who etches away at my resolve everyday, I admit I hate them, I pray to God to help me forgive. I find it difficult. I’m a nasty person it seems, I’m sorry I try so hard not to be. I’m not horrible inside, I’m just so pained today. Not for myself but for a client whom I disappointed partly. She had saved hard for her Hubby’s birthday & my weakness to get my debtors to pay their bill, led to me not finishing everything I was supposed to. In the manner we had agreed. I chose to have her pay only a deposit & I would cover the rest so she could trust me. Her family had trust issues, I wanted so hard to prove I’m not a con. But….though I’m not, I failed to deliver on my promise. She is hurt. 

I’m sulking, berating myself for my stupidity, trusting that a client who  owed me money would pay up readily as promised. This happened 16h20 Friday afternoon. An hour before I was due to leave to deliver to my client & her party. I feel some people are willing to order & eat and when they need to pay, they feel contempt in parting with their money. I will no longer be doing any further sales to my neighbours, who I feel have no respect for me or my family business. 

I worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to fail. I can’t fail I won’t fail. I need to properly take care of my business & my clients, who ultimately put food on my table, food very necessary, so I may not be accused of forcing my children to starve… 
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