It is after midnight on a Tuesday morning. 6 minutes after midnight to be exact and anyone who knows me well enough, knows that I am not normally awake at this time. The reason I am awake is simple. I took ill on the lovely 4 day weekend I had planned for myself (the entirety of my plans being not going to work for 4 consecutive days) and on the very first day I was off, I feel ill. I thought I had a cold and didn’t feel like it would escalate to something serious, so I did not pay my doctor a visit on Friday, by Sunday I felt that was a grave mistake. I was literally horizontal the entire day. My kids rallied themselves and took care of themselves and me at a level I was happy enough with not to feel I needed to ask for help. Today I literally dragged myself to my doctor. It was tough just getting there. He diagnosed me with not 1, not 2, but 3 ailments. Acute bronchitis, sinusitis and gastro. See, when I break down, I do it fucking properly. He threw everything he had at me. Rehydration drip with pain and nausea meds, as well as a lovely burny cortisone injection to my voluptuous bum. That, ladies and gentlema(e)n is why we are here. This post will be known as Cortisone Catharsis.
I lay awake in this inflicted insomnia knowing that I cannot take something to help me sleep at this time, because tomorrow morning my reality is getting my kids to school and I need to be all there for that. My mind is racing at a mile a minute while I prop myself up with pillows, touch my face so I can fall asleep and fetch a stuffed animal to hold in case it will help. It didn’t. In the end I got out of my warm bed to fetch my laptop. I need catharsis.
I stopped blogging for a good time. I can pin point the exact time in my life that I stopped blogging with any notable frequency. It came at a time where I had a big secret to keep. It completely blocked me off from speaking here. I felt like I could not blog disingenuously. If this was all I was thinking about and what was consuming me, what on earth would I write about? Fluff? My nail posts were never fluff on my blog to me. I never posted about nails to distract from what was happening in my life. I may have used nail art as a medium to escape at times, but blogging them was for me. When I could no longer blog from within, I stopped.
At the end of last year, I told you about a course I was embarking on. A course called Women In Leadership that I had been nominated for at work. Our final presentation was on the 22nd of March. On the 21st of March I also ended up at my doctor on a drip because my body had shut down on me, at a crucial time no less. I was clad together among a group of amazing women. Women that inspired me, carried me and who were there for me when I needed them. On the 7th of August I graduated the course with distinction. Our team also won the team award overall and I’ve never been more proud. When they announced our team name I was beaming from ear to ear. It was a good moment in my life. I made some steadfast friends and went on a journey I could not have imagined. Another highlight for me was breaking open a bottle of champagne at the end of our presentation day and drinking it out of paper cups in my friend’s car to celebrate reaching that final milestone.
I finally got my shit together and filed for the divorce. Friends had been questioning why I had not done it yet and the truth was that I knew it was going to be an arduous battle with queues and paperwork. I felt like it didn’t matter enough what was legal on paper if I knew what I wanted and how I felt about it. I was wrong. I thought it was merely a formality, but it was not. It really is a chapter I needed to tie up all the loose ends of before I could really move on with my life. I was told this, but I didn’t believe it at the time. Since getting a fire lit under my ass I spent a day at Home Affairs sorting out my new ID. The day I did that I also applied for my maiden surname to be reflected on my new ID. Although I knew this might be hurtful to my ex before the divorce was even finalized, I didn’t want to have to waste another day at Home Affairs to have it done and it is something I wanted. Not something spiteful or vengeful or hateful, something I wanted for myself. Standing at the precipice of my new life, I wanted to wipe my slate clean and start from scratch to rediscover who I am and take back my identity, a part of myself that I felt I had lost.
Being on my own does not come easily to me, at all. One would think that being an only child I would have gotten the hang of it by the time I turned 37, but I didn’t. I am not entirely alone, I have really good friends that hold me dear and love me unconditionally (perhaps because I just haven’t managed to push them far enough yet…and believe me sometimes I push hard), but the honest truth is that it is not the same as having someone in your life that is there to hold your hair out of the toilet when you’re sick or pull the blankets over you when you have uncovered yourself during the night. This was something my ex used to do in the earlier years of our relationship which really endeared him to me. Eventually he transferred that kind of care to our children and that is most certainly not something I will hold against him.
I think sometimes people wonder, even people close to me, how I can write such personal things on the internet for the whole world to see. A close family member has asked as much. For me, it is a way of living my authentic self, of connecting with people and reaching people. If I can make just one other person feel like they are not alone in feeling a certain way, if they can in any way relate to me and feel comforted, then nothing was in vain.
I need to make better decisions going forward. I cannot keep doing the same thing or similar things and expect different results. If I am really going to start living my authentic self, I need to learn from my own mistakes and when faced with the decision again, take a different path.