MAY 2010
What a lovely safe environment to express!
Not that I think I have the ability to write, but rather to give order to the conversation in my head. Many times it is about the difficult questions, with no REAL answers, about life or about my internal and, what feels like continuous search, to making peace with things that I can’t change, or circumstances that I have no solutions to.
One of them, and most recent of them all, I give the title:
“When your pain, need and desire moves you towards a choice for purpose”
Part 1
The Pain of realising: It's too late!
My suitcase of dreams and expectations where packed.
I arrived on the station, just to eventually find,...after looo....ong waiting, I missed the train.
....or was it the bus I was meant to catch?
SO!!, I turned 42 this year!
Many of my friends, I think they dread asking…, but I bet they have wondered why I stopped celebrating my birthday the day I turned 39. People, it goes beyond mid-life-crisis!!! I believe from my friends that have turned 50, that your 50th birthday can be either a crisis or a cure, because you are facing the autumn years of your life. Well my life, at the dawn of my 40ties felt like the dead-centre of winter, after a snow-storm in Kazakstan.
Now my forties started out with taking stock, when there was no stock. It was like loosing a limb. Not life-threatening at all! I could still function. Sometimes a little dis-functional, but I was able to create coping mechanisms that worked for me, even if it meant a anger-bout at times... It was a like having a thorn in my foot, as long as I didn’t have to stand on it, I could hold it together and act normal, but Boy-Oh-Boy, the minute I stood on that part of my foot with the thorn in it,…. all hell broke loose!
Friends, family and collegues saw a pseudo-limb, the one I held up and used, to show that I was coping, like stage make-up that covers a scar. But at home, when the prosthesis of my lack, emptiness, loss and complete devastation came off, it was like a hundred-thousand demons was let out and I would shout, scream, cry and sometimes even swear at them!
Friends and folk in close proximity prayed, others encouraged and gave a hug, but quite a few just shrugged their shoulders in either, complete shock, of: “Why could she just not get a life?” or helplessness, of: “We just don’t know how to make this better”
Anyway, let’s get to the juicy details. I don’t know about other countries, but here in good old sunny SA, it is very generally considered that if you have not met the right man by at least 25, gotten married, by at least 32, and fallen whole solidly pregnant and given birth successfully at least twice by 39, the frown-line on your neigbours forehead is not because she has not found a local dermatologist to give her a shot of Botox. In fact, truth be known, the neighbour has been Botoxing since 24, a year after she met Mr. Right. She’s now 42 (same age as me….) with two beautiful youngsters that go to the private school just up the road from the street where I live. Her frown line surpasses all Botoxes people, because she is secretly WON-dering…that same thing that I am WON-dering….but dare not ask why I am still husband-less, child-less and joy-less, because I am TOO angry anyway to even answer her. Besides, I DON’T HAVE the answer…that is why I am writing about it and sometimes shouting about it inside of me!!! If I was to try and answer her, I had forgotten about 5 years ago, how to be humorous about the subject. The sarcasm just seems to flow illegitimately and uncontrollably from my tongue now days. I was dangerously flirting with surfing a wave of self-destructive Sinicism.
The private school just up the road from me, has a Schoolyard Market that I frequent. My contribution to the Schoolyard Market is buying a Parmesan Twist once a month, from my friends twin daughter who is in her budding Teens now. Do you get the picture at all?….. People MY age, have contributed to society. A whole new legacy has been born and busy being raised out of MY generation of people, and all that I have been worthy of contributing....,is the purchase of a Parmesan Twist, for God-sake!!!
For those of you who are wondering what on earth a Parmesan Twist is. It is THE most delicious foot-long bread. The dough has been twisted, so the bread is long and curly, loaded with parmesan and baked to a wonderful soft inside with a slightly crispy outside. I don’t allow myself the luxury of bread. It loves my waistline too much, and I don’t like my waistline at the best of days! So once a month, I feel like I am sneaking down to the Schoolyard Market for this un-Godly sin I’m about to commit. I don’t bother with the soup or salad that it would so eloquently compliment. I try to get rid of it, by myself, on my own as soon as possible. It’s DELISH, DEVINE and all the most delectable adjectives you can think of.
Oh, and on the subject of God, because I believe there is a God and I also believe IN Him, I am mainly angry with Him for my barren state. Just for in case you thought I was angry with my Botoxed-frowning-neighbor. Without causing a debate on God, because we all have our personal views and experiences with or about a ‘higher-being’, it felt as if even all the host of angels where in agreement with the Almighty, to disqualify me from having a family. If He controlled the workings of the universe and supposedly had me in the palm of His hand as the Psalmist refers to, how-come I’m not ‘getting-it’? What ABOUT the ’bigger-picture’ of life am I not seeing?…….
”Maybe you are supposed to have ’spiritual’ children”, I am told.
Puh….leeeeze Honey!!!! Who are you trying to kid?...,when you’ve had your children, your hysterectomy and still making love to your husband??? Huh??? Some older, braver ones, who had already lost a husband or two, and therefore had even accumulated a few step-children, thought it was wisdom from-above to suggest that they ALSO now console to their 'spiritual-family'. You see, not even age can make you walk a mile in a pair of 'uncertain-about-the-future' shoes….Why do I want to get spiritual about something so basic and instinctively human?
I even tried the: “Let’s pretend to be a happy ’spiritual’-family”.
Pfff…..come on, we all know, if the obvious core elements of a natural family are not in place, you will always be the outsider, who stands alone as your only companion, your darling pet, is dying in your arms and your empty heart feels faint while mommy‘s are betting their best bet amongst themselves on the latest remedy’ s for the baby’s runny nose and daddy’s are making their next move on the stock-exchange to secure a "Just-fine-family-holiday" for Christmas. Unless there’s a steeple of happy people falling under the category of ‘disqualified‘….I’m done with pew-sitting masquerades. There’s enough doting grandma’s and grandpa’s, mammas & pappas with babies and toddlers and acne-faced teenagers filling the empty spaces of a stain-glassed society, who want to do the right thing, and get it right, first-time-round. Bravo, for Favour and Grace! Pheewww…that’s a lot said, and never did I ever realise why that song; Stainglass Masquerade, always caught my attention. Now I know, why.
I realize that a lot has to do with choices as well. But what if you have not even been given the grace of an opportunity? Well then…maybe there were opportunities, but considering that I am an old-fashioned gal, I valued my morals and values far more than biology or adultery. I won’t expand on those subjects for now…!
There must be some of you mommy’s out there, reading this and without any regrets to the joys and frustration of motherhood, be thinking blissful thoughts of no lunch box duties, no homework to check, massages, pedicures and spa days when everyone else is coping with school comities, sport activities and planning the next balanced meal. I must admit, it is great to have that kind of freedom. I’ve even walked the road of learning gratitude, for my cat that purrs me to sleep at night and my dog that wag-fully accepts her supper far too late to be mentioned without a blush of disgrace, because mommy has been out with friends to a show and forgot to fill her bowel with dog-pellets before she left.
Well, I have found that it has been GRATITUDE and HUMOUR that became my life-jacket down the rapids of these lonely & disappointing days and nights.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
PART 2 - Moving my pain to Meaningful Purpose
MAY 2010
Part 2
EMPTY.
Empty has a certain ring to it. It means something used to be full, and it got emptied out. Empty might imply a kind of satisfaction, because it once got filled, and then the process of empting out once again implies a filling up. The cycles of nature that so visually reflects our cycles of life, comes to mind.
BUT……
How does empty feel, when it was never full? That god-dammit biological instinct to nurture and give life, is called empty when you go for your spa-day on Christmas-eve to anesthetize the haunts of hearing happy children’s voices preparing cookies and milk for the arrival of Father Christmas.
Empty is virtual, when visiting my granny at the old-age home and dreading to pass that dark passage with a portrait hanging at the end of it, that dates from somewhere in the 70’s and smells like stale lavender and moth-balls, to get to her sun-lit room with a view that smells of roses and freshly brewed coffee and home-made rusks. Thinking to myself, my granny has got it good, because she has a grand-daughter like me and a daughter like my mom, who will never allow stale lavender and mothballs when her olfactory nerve looses its sensitivity due to old age. WE will be the ones to give the roses fresh water in its vase and place new photo-collages of the family on the wall, when she gets too old to do it herself. My overture sounds grim, because emptiness is a dark passage, and not knowing who will change the water in the rose-vase or care that the picture on the wall, that dates from over 3 decades ago, cannot be noticed by my blinded eyes.
So, in the larger scheme of things, having all the freedom to do as you want to, with no obligation and responsibility to raising a next generation for the sake of man-kind and my human need, becomes a personal dilemma. This was a personal crisis with, seemingly, no solutions, which has haunted me from the day that I felt my age counting against me. My hour-glass with the last bits of sand trickling towards the narrow centre, forced me to scram around for meaning, hope and finally some sort of a solution. Not just an alternative to hope lost, but brand new spectacles. A desire to pro-create, as biological as it sounds, caused me to analyze, as good as I am with it, to come to the core of my desire. I have peeled away several layers, and given MY truth a brand new jacket to wear.
As the song goes:
"And though I might not know the answers
I can finally say I'm free
And if the questions lead me here, then
I am who I was born to be"
Sometimes our desires for something as simple as wanting to have the privilege of holding your own new-born baby in your arms is not as simple as desiring a new car, double story house and impressive career. Those things one can have anyway, because you can make it happen at the cost of a few sacrifices. A family on the other hand, you cannot manufacture. It is a gift, given by grace.
I think I might have managed to unwrap my desire to nurture and love, and managed to give it a new packaging and content.
Part 3
PUTTING IT OUT THERE
and imparting my solution, my new hope and my gift that I believe will take me to the next fase of my life.
Part 2
EMPTY.
Empty has a certain ring to it. It means something used to be full, and it got emptied out. Empty might imply a kind of satisfaction, because it once got filled, and then the process of empting out once again implies a filling up. The cycles of nature that so visually reflects our cycles of life, comes to mind.
BUT……
How does empty feel, when it was never full? That god-dammit biological instinct to nurture and give life, is called empty when you go for your spa-day on Christmas-eve to anesthetize the haunts of hearing happy children’s voices preparing cookies and milk for the arrival of Father Christmas.
Empty is virtual, when visiting my granny at the old-age home and dreading to pass that dark passage with a portrait hanging at the end of it, that dates from somewhere in the 70’s and smells like stale lavender and moth-balls, to get to her sun-lit room with a view that smells of roses and freshly brewed coffee and home-made rusks. Thinking to myself, my granny has got it good, because she has a grand-daughter like me and a daughter like my mom, who will never allow stale lavender and mothballs when her olfactory nerve looses its sensitivity due to old age. WE will be the ones to give the roses fresh water in its vase and place new photo-collages of the family on the wall, when she gets too old to do it herself. My overture sounds grim, because emptiness is a dark passage, and not knowing who will change the water in the rose-vase or care that the picture on the wall, that dates from over 3 decades ago, cannot be noticed by my blinded eyes.
So, in the larger scheme of things, having all the freedom to do as you want to, with no obligation and responsibility to raising a next generation for the sake of man-kind and my human need, becomes a personal dilemma. This was a personal crisis with, seemingly, no solutions, which has haunted me from the day that I felt my age counting against me. My hour-glass with the last bits of sand trickling towards the narrow centre, forced me to scram around for meaning, hope and finally some sort of a solution. Not just an alternative to hope lost, but brand new spectacles. A desire to pro-create, as biological as it sounds, caused me to analyze, as good as I am with it, to come to the core of my desire. I have peeled away several layers, and given MY truth a brand new jacket to wear.
As the song goes:
"And though I might not know the answers
I can finally say I'm free
And if the questions lead me here, then
I am who I was born to be"
Sometimes our desires for something as simple as wanting to have the privilege of holding your own new-born baby in your arms is not as simple as desiring a new car, double story house and impressive career. Those things one can have anyway, because you can make it happen at the cost of a few sacrifices. A family on the other hand, you cannot manufacture. It is a gift, given by grace.
I think I might have managed to unwrap my desire to nurture and love, and managed to give it a new packaging and content.
Part 3
PUTTING IT OUT THERE
and imparting my solution, my new hope and my gift that I believe will take me to the next fase of my life.
Friday, October 1, 2010
PART 3 - Imparting the Solution, by Choosing!
23 August 2010
HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES
Section 1
THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY TO MAKE PEACE……..by CHOOSING.
Most of you who have walked my hobbly-wobbly road or at least parts of it with me, will know about the devastation I have had to face the past three years as I was daily having to come to terms with, the nurturing and raising of my own children, in a healthy family set-up, becoming less and less of a reality and more and more of a fantasy. For those of you who don’t know me too well, let’s just say that it is an issue that has crippled me socially, spiritually and in most other areas of living that you can think of.
This, however is not a letter of my sad old song and dance, but rather of introducing my escape to a “healthy-alternative“. I don’t know how I was suppose to make something out of a desire, which seems pretty normal, that I can’t manufacture or create or have any control over? That’s when I started thinking, that I could possibly find solace in nurturing others babies and toddlers for them. In our culture though, people are very over-protective of their children, with a result that these children often cry when picked up or given attention by strangers, so my next option was abandoned babes. It was by random chance that I mentioned this idea to a friend over coffee one day and that’s how I got introduced to Audrey, who runs a Safe Home for abandoned and abused children. Audrey seems to have a special gifting for younger children and babies, as most of the kids that she fosters/takes into safe keeping are under the age of one.
Funny…I just have to mention this, as a typical example of the paradox in life. If you desire something so badly that it aches when you are confronted with just the mere thought of it, but it’s not what God wants for you, you can stand on your head and try and whistle, sing and even Morse-code “God save the Queen” through your…uh mm, you know what….He will save the queen for you, but He won’t give you what you desire. And then after many, many, many hours of contemplation, you oblige to what I like to call “healthy alternatives” and it falls in your lap, with all the bells-and-whistles as you imagined it would be. For those of you who find this a bizarre concept, this ’God-thing’ that I believe in, I can just mention that I have seriously considered that I might have been a worm in my past life, and now paying for my consequences of eating somebodies healthy shrubs….but I am opting rather for the theory that there are higher beings out there that might be playing a weird kind of monopoly with my life down here. The point I am actually trying to make, is that understanding has not come yet, and might only come in the ‘here-after’! The kind of understanding that I’m suggesting, could possibly give me peace of mind on why I am not good enough to have my own biological child, is how someone who is on drugs, refuses to stop when they are pregnant, gets the fortunate privilege of having up to 5 children, when there are couples out there that are not able to have even ONE!!!! And then there’s me…who just won’t have them out of wed-lock because I believe in doing the right thing. Or has God and Providence got absolutely NOTHING to do with all of this, and it's ALL up to the shenanigans of us, the people? (I apologise, you got a bit of my song-and-dance….)
You might ask, what are ’healthy-alternatives’?…and what bells-and-whistles do they come with? For starters, I really needed to be close to a foster home, as I didn’t want to spend hours travelling. This opportunity that I am embarking on is so close to where I live and on route to work and back, I can literally pop in on my way everyday if I want to. Together with the convenience of being almost on my doorstep, I would not have been able to offer my help in an environment where the children are not happy and really safe, physically and emotionally. Cleanliness and proper care, love and individual attention to each child, was something I was looking for in the place where I am to offer my free time. As a volunteer, I also needed to ’connect’ with the foster-mom, in a way that I know she trusts me and doesn’t feel threatened by my efforts, because my desire to care and nurture for young children and babies is still very strong. I am fortunate that I’ve managed to detach myself from the child, having to be my own. A choice I am forced to take! I suppose time numbs the pain, doesn’t it?
The Safe Home is registered with the government, as a non-profitable organisation. I was so impressed with the cleanliness, and hands-on way in which Audrey conducts her home, to accommodate these sweeties. Some of them arrived with her, pre-maturely, mal-nutritioned and under-developed due to fetal-alcohol-syndrome, drug abuse during and after pregnancy or just pure neglect. Within weeks and sometimes even days, she manages to get them strong, healthier, and settled into their new environment. She and her helpers enforce a stable and disciplined routine, without being too rigid about the fact that they are just children that must be able to play and have fun. Some of the older ones, come from very traumatic circumstances where they have had to be responsible for younger siblings. In the Safe Home environment, Audrey gives them the liberty to just be a child again.
HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES
Section 1
THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY TO MAKE PEACE……..by CHOOSING.
Most of you who have walked my hobbly-wobbly road or at least parts of it with me, will know about the devastation I have had to face the past three years as I was daily having to come to terms with, the nurturing and raising of my own children, in a healthy family set-up, becoming less and less of a reality and more and more of a fantasy. For those of you who don’t know me too well, let’s just say that it is an issue that has crippled me socially, spiritually and in most other areas of living that you can think of.
This, however is not a letter of my sad old song and dance, but rather of introducing my escape to a “healthy-alternative“. I don’t know how I was suppose to make something out of a desire, which seems pretty normal, that I can’t manufacture or create or have any control over? That’s when I started thinking, that I could possibly find solace in nurturing others babies and toddlers for them. In our culture though, people are very over-protective of their children, with a result that these children often cry when picked up or given attention by strangers, so my next option was abandoned babes. It was by random chance that I mentioned this idea to a friend over coffee one day and that’s how I got introduced to Audrey, who runs a Safe Home for abandoned and abused children. Audrey seems to have a special gifting for younger children and babies, as most of the kids that she fosters/takes into safe keeping are under the age of one.
Funny…I just have to mention this, as a typical example of the paradox in life. If you desire something so badly that it aches when you are confronted with just the mere thought of it, but it’s not what God wants for you, you can stand on your head and try and whistle, sing and even Morse-code “God save the Queen” through your…uh mm, you know what….He will save the queen for you, but He won’t give you what you desire. And then after many, many, many hours of contemplation, you oblige to what I like to call “healthy alternatives” and it falls in your lap, with all the bells-and-whistles as you imagined it would be. For those of you who find this a bizarre concept, this ’God-thing’ that I believe in, I can just mention that I have seriously considered that I might have been a worm in my past life, and now paying for my consequences of eating somebodies healthy shrubs….but I am opting rather for the theory that there are higher beings out there that might be playing a weird kind of monopoly with my life down here. The point I am actually trying to make, is that understanding has not come yet, and might only come in the ‘here-after’! The kind of understanding that I’m suggesting, could possibly give me peace of mind on why I am not good enough to have my own biological child, is how someone who is on drugs, refuses to stop when they are pregnant, gets the fortunate privilege of having up to 5 children, when there are couples out there that are not able to have even ONE!!!! And then there’s me…who just won’t have them out of wed-lock because I believe in doing the right thing. Or has God and Providence got absolutely NOTHING to do with all of this, and it's ALL up to the shenanigans of us, the people? (I apologise, you got a bit of my song-and-dance….)
You might ask, what are ’healthy-alternatives’?…and what bells-and-whistles do they come with? For starters, I really needed to be close to a foster home, as I didn’t want to spend hours travelling. This opportunity that I am embarking on is so close to where I live and on route to work and back, I can literally pop in on my way everyday if I want to. Together with the convenience of being almost on my doorstep, I would not have been able to offer my help in an environment where the children are not happy and really safe, physically and emotionally. Cleanliness and proper care, love and individual attention to each child, was something I was looking for in the place where I am to offer my free time. As a volunteer, I also needed to ’connect’ with the foster-mom, in a way that I know she trusts me and doesn’t feel threatened by my efforts, because my desire to care and nurture for young children and babies is still very strong. I am fortunate that I’ve managed to detach myself from the child, having to be my own. A choice I am forced to take! I suppose time numbs the pain, doesn’t it?
The Safe Home is registered with the government, as a non-profitable organisation. I was so impressed with the cleanliness, and hands-on way in which Audrey conducts her home, to accommodate these sweeties. Some of them arrived with her, pre-maturely, mal-nutritioned and under-developed due to fetal-alcohol-syndrome, drug abuse during and after pregnancy or just pure neglect. Within weeks and sometimes even days, she manages to get them strong, healthier, and settled into their new environment. She and her helpers enforce a stable and disciplined routine, without being too rigid about the fact that they are just children that must be able to play and have fun. Some of the older ones, come from very traumatic circumstances where they have had to be responsible for younger siblings. In the Safe Home environment, Audrey gives them the liberty to just be a child again.
PART 4 - My Involvement to Healthy Alternatives
13 September 2010
HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES
Section 2
My involvement at the Safe Home:
What I am hoping to do, is be a pair of extra hands. As you might all imagine, bath, dress, and feeding time can lead to rush-hour in a normal home set-up, multiply that with 10. At the moment Audrey has ten of them in her home. The numbers change frequently, as it all depends on who goes to foster homes or goes back to family members/parents. She is basically eligible to foster 6 kids and safe-home 6. At the moment she has 4 in her foster-care and 6 in safe-care. In my free time, which is usually on a Monday or a Friday, I try and arrive at the time when I know the babies are to be fed and bathed. I just love this contribution, much more than giving money. I think it is a wonderful privilege to contribute financially and I know there are people that have a wonderful gifting for giving. For me it is the giving of my time, love and touch. One of my natural-born talents - healing hands. The impartation soothes my soul and gives me SO much satisfaction, that it makes breathing and living worth the while again. Huh!!...and even I eventually, like many others have also suggested, thought, changing a poo-nappy would confirm suspicions that I might have been romanticising the whole idea of having a baby....NOT!!
I am also keen to contribute to their monthly grocery needs. In their monthly newsletter, she usually lists the items that they frequently need. My aim is to buy at least one item when I do my own shopping, even if its just a packet of fish-fingers or a butternut. Financially, I wish I was able to contribute in a substantial manner, but I am aiming to commit to a small, regular amount per month. If I was able to inspire 10 or 20 other people to do the same, a mere R50 per month in the form of a debit-order, would make a huge difference to my R50 contribution, multiplied by 10 or 20.
I have a wonderful gift for hospitality and I enjoy entertaining. I have a desire to raise funds for such projects, Home of Safety. The thoughts that are going around in my head, is to put together a proposal where I approach companies to partner in an event that I organise, to raise funds for this Safe Home. Audrey is very keen on this, and I know of at least two or three of my friends, with great administrative and organisational skills, that would like to get involved in such an event. I am planning to go for some coaching sessions, to help me put this together for next year.
Taking up the challenge to foster, would be such a privilege!!! Getting involved in volunteer-work of this caliber was my way of finally putting a lid on it and waiting till the knocking stops. You see, raising a child of my own, alone, was just not an option. Sperm-banks or adultery would be such a selfish thing to do. (I kid you not! There where really suggestions like this from 'desperate-to-help' people, who where the unfortunate ones that had to bear my tears of sorry.) But, if I was to raise one that was already abandoned by another, it would be a better opportunity for a child with no existing options. Not a bad idea, if a substitute at all.
Jeez!!!…It’s tiresome to be such a melancholic-choleric!!!!….the analysing and doing and the analysing over the doing, and the doing of the analysing….that’s probably why I still ain’t pregnant!…duh!
Fostering is defnitely an option. Considering that the process to fostering is not simple or uncomplicated, time would be of gracefull essence to make up my mind. As if there are any decisions to make, about this subject?…. It’s basically the answer that has come to me, BUT, there are still some “Diva-ish” things to accomplish, while I am still young enough, but supposedly not suitable enough to be wanted by any allege-able seuters, I figured…..loosing my virginity was a choice I waited to make until I was 24, loosing my choice to give birth to my own, in a loving and wholesome relationship…., was a heart-wrenching devastation, what the hell could I loose now, by giving my alter-ego a chance to wear her best evening gown, highest red heel-shoes, velvet coat and a song to sing?
SELAH~
HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES
Section 2
My involvement at the Safe Home:
What I am hoping to do, is be a pair of extra hands. As you might all imagine, bath, dress, and feeding time can lead to rush-hour in a normal home set-up, multiply that with 10. At the moment Audrey has ten of them in her home. The numbers change frequently, as it all depends on who goes to foster homes or goes back to family members/parents. She is basically eligible to foster 6 kids and safe-home 6. At the moment she has 4 in her foster-care and 6 in safe-care. In my free time, which is usually on a Monday or a Friday, I try and arrive at the time when I know the babies are to be fed and bathed. I just love this contribution, much more than giving money. I think it is a wonderful privilege to contribute financially and I know there are people that have a wonderful gifting for giving. For me it is the giving of my time, love and touch. One of my natural-born talents - healing hands. The impartation soothes my soul and gives me SO much satisfaction, that it makes breathing and living worth the while again. Huh!!...and even I eventually, like many others have also suggested, thought, changing a poo-nappy would confirm suspicions that I might have been romanticising the whole idea of having a baby....NOT!!
I am also keen to contribute to their monthly grocery needs. In their monthly newsletter, she usually lists the items that they frequently need. My aim is to buy at least one item when I do my own shopping, even if its just a packet of fish-fingers or a butternut. Financially, I wish I was able to contribute in a substantial manner, but I am aiming to commit to a small, regular amount per month. If I was able to inspire 10 or 20 other people to do the same, a mere R50 per month in the form of a debit-order, would make a huge difference to my R50 contribution, multiplied by 10 or 20.
I have a wonderful gift for hospitality and I enjoy entertaining. I have a desire to raise funds for such projects, Home of Safety. The thoughts that are going around in my head, is to put together a proposal where I approach companies to partner in an event that I organise, to raise funds for this Safe Home. Audrey is very keen on this, and I know of at least two or three of my friends, with great administrative and organisational skills, that would like to get involved in such an event. I am planning to go for some coaching sessions, to help me put this together for next year.
Taking up the challenge to foster, would be such a privilege!!! Getting involved in volunteer-work of this caliber was my way of finally putting a lid on it and waiting till the knocking stops. You see, raising a child of my own, alone, was just not an option. Sperm-banks or adultery would be such a selfish thing to do. (I kid you not! There where really suggestions like this from 'desperate-to-help' people, who where the unfortunate ones that had to bear my tears of sorry.) But, if I was to raise one that was already abandoned by another, it would be a better opportunity for a child with no existing options. Not a bad idea, if a substitute at all.
Jeez!!!…It’s tiresome to be such a melancholic-choleric!!!!….the analysing and doing and the analysing over the doing, and the doing of the analysing….that’s probably why I still ain’t pregnant!…duh!
Fostering is defnitely an option. Considering that the process to fostering is not simple or uncomplicated, time would be of gracefull essence to make up my mind. As if there are any decisions to make, about this subject?…. It’s basically the answer that has come to me, BUT, there are still some “Diva-ish” things to accomplish, while I am still young enough, but supposedly not suitable enough to be wanted by any allege-able seuters, I figured…..loosing my virginity was a choice I waited to make until I was 24, loosing my choice to give birth to my own, in a loving and wholesome relationship…., was a heart-wrenching devastation, what the hell could I loose now, by giving my alter-ego a chance to wear her best evening gown, highest red heel-shoes, velvet coat and a song to sing?
SELAH~
PART 5 - Relinquishing my rights to rounded belly. (and a flat one)
13 October
CONCLUSION
The emotional constipation of the past 5 years has brought me this far. It’s time for releasing, cleansing and moving on. It has been a long walk, to what feels like the walk to freedom. Although I could never compare my story to the likings of Nelson Mandela. But, what this walk has brought forth in my heart, is so big and so exciting.
Just to give perspective: I never really wanted children, until about the age of 34/35. Before that, I was a career-girl and business entrepreneur. Never did I ever think that I would want to be a mom or even have the ability to raise a child. Being a believer of Someone bigger than myself, when I sobbed for the first time over a newborn baby in someone’s arms, and almost instantly lost my ambition for success in my career, I could not help, but believe that it was a desire that could only come supernaturally from Above.
So if my story sounds to you like the desperate girl next-door who has an obsession with finding a man and having children, in order to define herself as ‘Somebody’,..... and if you think this is just my adult-tantrum about not getting what I want…..
you are hugely mistaken. I am naturally ambitious, adventurous and creative. In my youth, I really frowned upon woman who would do anything to fall pregnant or obsessed with getting married. I never collected pictures of “my-wedding-dress”, as girls do. The pictures I collected, where of destinations I wanted to travel to, and things I wanted to accomplish in my business career.
What I am hugely mistaken about, and now have first-hand experience on, is the power within a woman to pro-create. I believe it’s as strong as the will to survive, and more powerful than insanity itself. Yes, believe me! This little exercise of believing and trusting that God had placed within me the desire to have children, with the noble idea of having them within wed-lock, has cost me what is now documented in my doctor’s archives as: “Slightly Insane”. Whether it was my father who accidentily threw my doll into the dam, or my mother that would not give me one more cookie to eat….the 'shrink' could not determine, what could cause such a talented adult woman, as I, to not have it in her, to be alive. It was easier to make a simple diagnosis with a script to accompany it. My child-like faith and trust in God is tainted for life, or until I have the answers. You might think I am being arrogant, but it is this trust I had, that has brought me on this road, where I'm scramming frantically in circles to find my ambition again, to distract me from this reality. The answers don’t have to come now. It’s taken this long already, I can wait. Even if it means, until I see the bright light, and then go into ’forever-ness’.
"Biological Clock?" I agree!
It’s hard to make the knocking sound softer or even go away, when the knocking includes a legacy that you so fervently want to leave behind.
What are they going to write on my tomb-stone one day, when I die?
“RIP. She tried and tried, but she just didn’t get it right. It was too late to start over, so she carried on trying and trying, until she became like Siberia...We all know where that is, but we don’t talk about it anymore, or go there at all”
And don’t come at throw that: “Arggg, you’re just being too impatient” nonsense at me! What?…do you expect me to be?….Siberia??, when I stand at the gate of the pre-school, amongst the Jimmy-Choo’s, Guess and cellulite-free 'Y or Z -generation' young-breed of moms, when junior gets fetched from his first day of school? Run a mile in those pair of weary tackies, and let me know what you think. I think, NOT!
A flat belly, besides a successful career, has been my life-ambition. Strengthening my core, in pursuit of aiding a easier birth…..and looking at my genetic pool on both paternal & maternal….chances are none.
Having a life-giving rounded belly?…..would be the only reason I won't feel so conscious of my lack and chances of that......refer to part one of this article…..
(All Comments are Welcome!
You will not be able to comment here, if you are not registered as a member of blogspot.
You may however, leave your comments on Facebook, by clicking on my Facebook Badge in the right-hand column,
or on my email, at sonja46664@yahoo.com)
CONCLUSION
The emotional constipation of the past 5 years has brought me this far. It’s time for releasing, cleansing and moving on. It has been a long walk, to what feels like the walk to freedom. Although I could never compare my story to the likings of Nelson Mandela. But, what this walk has brought forth in my heart, is so big and so exciting.
Just to give perspective: I never really wanted children, until about the age of 34/35. Before that, I was a career-girl and business entrepreneur. Never did I ever think that I would want to be a mom or even have the ability to raise a child. Being a believer of Someone bigger than myself, when I sobbed for the first time over a newborn baby in someone’s arms, and almost instantly lost my ambition for success in my career, I could not help, but believe that it was a desire that could only come supernaturally from Above.
So if my story sounds to you like the desperate girl next-door who has an obsession with finding a man and having children, in order to define herself as ‘Somebody’,..... and if you think this is just my adult-tantrum about not getting what I want…..
you are hugely mistaken. I am naturally ambitious, adventurous and creative. In my youth, I really frowned upon woman who would do anything to fall pregnant or obsessed with getting married. I never collected pictures of “my-wedding-dress”, as girls do. The pictures I collected, where of destinations I wanted to travel to, and things I wanted to accomplish in my business career.
What I am hugely mistaken about, and now have first-hand experience on, is the power within a woman to pro-create. I believe it’s as strong as the will to survive, and more powerful than insanity itself. Yes, believe me! This little exercise of believing and trusting that God had placed within me the desire to have children, with the noble idea of having them within wed-lock, has cost me what is now documented in my doctor’s archives as: “Slightly Insane”. Whether it was my father who accidentily threw my doll into the dam, or my mother that would not give me one more cookie to eat….the 'shrink' could not determine, what could cause such a talented adult woman, as I, to not have it in her, to be alive. It was easier to make a simple diagnosis with a script to accompany it. My child-like faith and trust in God is tainted for life, or until I have the answers. You might think I am being arrogant, but it is this trust I had, that has brought me on this road, where I'm scramming frantically in circles to find my ambition again, to distract me from this reality. The answers don’t have to come now. It’s taken this long already, I can wait. Even if it means, until I see the bright light, and then go into ’forever-ness’.
"Biological Clock?" I agree!
It’s hard to make the knocking sound softer or even go away, when the knocking includes a legacy that you so fervently want to leave behind.
What are they going to write on my tomb-stone one day, when I die?
“RIP. She tried and tried, but she just didn’t get it right. It was too late to start over, so she carried on trying and trying, until she became like Siberia...We all know where that is, but we don’t talk about it anymore, or go there at all”
And don’t come at throw that: “Arggg, you’re just being too impatient” nonsense at me! What?…do you expect me to be?….Siberia??, when I stand at the gate of the pre-school, amongst the Jimmy-Choo’s, Guess and cellulite-free 'Y or Z -generation' young-breed of moms, when junior gets fetched from his first day of school? Run a mile in those pair of weary tackies, and let me know what you think. I think, NOT!
A flat belly, besides a successful career, has been my life-ambition. Strengthening my core, in pursuit of aiding a easier birth…..and looking at my genetic pool on both paternal & maternal….chances are none.
Having a life-giving rounded belly?…..would be the only reason I won't feel so conscious of my lack and chances of that......refer to part one of this article…..
(All Comments are Welcome!
You will not be able to comment here, if you are not registered as a member of blogspot.
You may however, leave your comments on Facebook, by clicking on my Facebook Badge in the right-hand column,
or on my email, at sonja46664@yahoo.com)
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