Life in Africa, life at 40 (40 is the new 30 right) and just random thoughts and insecurities splashed with some humour about life in the 21st century.
Author: Wine Fli
Just a white girl trying to get by in life. Trying my very best to make the best of what I have... trying to cope with traffic and striking taxi's and numerous asshole drivers, and trying very hard to do so without becoming an alcoholic... or day-drinking.
I absolutely adore animals, cats and dogs and anything four legged. I also adore my son (should probably have put that before animals). I also love wine.
I swear too much, I love too hard, I have high expectations of other people but most of all myself. I feel I should work harder, achieve more, reach more, be more patient and tolerant, and learn to be more accepting of other people. I fail most days. At all of the above. But tomorrow morning I get up at 4am, I go to gym and I still try and fit into the picture I have created in my mind, of the person I think I should have been.
Hearing/reading/saying the words at this stage makes me want to vomit. I have been battling with this since I can remember… the only time I think I didn’t feel fat/overweight was when I was in high-school and that is a story for another time.
I have been trying to be more positive about my current body. I say current because it is still very hard to accept I no longer fall under the ‘skinny’ flag.
Let me start by showing what I used to look like: This was me in 2008 – I think. I thought I was fat here.
This was me early 2000’s… I thought I was fat here. (I am the one in the pink shirt)
In all of these I truly believed I am fat.
And here I am now… this time… I really am fat. I feel like a beached whale. I avoid mirrors and shop windows like the plague and shopping for clothes have become so traumatic I have been squeezing into old clothing which, in turn, makes me feel even bigger.
It’s been an uphill and rollercoaster ride since 2016, when my thyroid started acting up and ever since then the only way I seem to be able to lose any weight, is if I gym like a madman and only eat once a day. But I cannot live my life like that. They cannot really find a medical reason why I am still not able to lose any weight as I do not eat loads of junkfood and even if I drink considerably less, I do not seem to lose any weight.
I am realising that I need to start accepting that, for now at least, this is my size, and I need to choose clothes that will compliment and accentuate my good bits. This brings me to why I am writing this blog. (I read somewhere that people who blog are closeted serial-killers, it made me chuckle because I love blogging and I love True Crime even more). Anyway I digress… So I had this epiphany that right now, I am at the ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ stage. I came across this American woman who goes by Taryn Truly. (And because I believe in supporting each other, this is her FB handle: https://www.facebook.com/TarynTruly) She has inspired me and she is absolutely gorgeous… She is also, what she calls mid-size, and My Word so stylish and classy and I wish I could copy her look every time I watch one of her videos, but we do not have Amazon clothes or Walmart here in South Africa, hence Annettestrendytrail was born. I decided to start my own little Facebook and Instagram, probably TikTok videos to share what I find, or even better, what I have available in my own shop – you read that correct, I also sell plus size clothing, in order for us to get that stylish look that makes you feel like a million dollars even though you don’t necessarily like your curves all that much.
When I was in High School I worked at a Pizza Place. I helped make the pizzas and I also did deliveries as I had a little scooter. I have many more stories about this scooter, but this for another time.
One evening a pizza and a salad was ordered. Just a normal Greek Salad, but I had at that time, never made one before. If I am honest at that time I wasn’t even aware there was more than one kind of salad in this world. I asked the owner of the restaurant what to put in the salad and she gave me the ingredients and said ‘and about half a tomato’. So, I went ahead and put half a tomato into the salad. Half an unsliced/diced tomato. My literal brain very literally understood she meant to put half the tomato in, as she didn’t specify to slice or dice said tomato. I did wonder to myself; ‘How strange to put half a tomato, just like that, into a salad’, but in that moment, half a tomato meant just that, half of the tomato.
To this day I still wonder about the person who ordered the salad’s reaction. Imagine opening that take-away container and having half a tomato just staring at you, daring you to just cut it into pieces right there in the polystyrene bowl, or even better yet, just stuff that entire half a tomato right into your mouth baby.
I still cringe every single time I think about it.
Another time I was shopping at Food Lovers Market (I seem to have a theme going here with food), and at the check-out queue – it’s one of those awkward lines where there really isn’t enough space for your trolley, for another shopper, or to comfortably unpack your shopping (we do not have those fancy schmancy self-check-out points the rest of the world has embraced in South Africa. I honestly doubt we ever will). So we are all queued one after the other with hardly any space between your trolley and the person in-front of you, and so on this occasion I bump the shin of the lady in-front of me (simply because there was no space, not on purpose, but she stepped back as I was getting in line), but instead of apologising I yelled at her for not watching where she was stepping. To this day I literally hate myself for reacting that way. The look on the poor woman’s face.
There was a period in my life I was an exceptionally unhappy person. This was between 2015 and 2019. I turned into an angry hateful person and only now I realise how much pressure I really was under. I am not inherently that angry, combative and aggressive person. My circumstances made me believe that in order to survive, and to succeed at the job I was in, I had to be that person.
I hated that woman. She was not a nice lady. And only now I realise the inner conflict this caused within myself. Not only was I angry all the time, but I was forced to be someone I am not and this my friends caused a vicious circle. I had to be her in order to survive. But I hated her. It reflected in all my relationships. I was constantly in battle with the world and those closest to me, and this is one of my worst causes for anxiety attacks about something I cannot change (please read on for my utter most worse 2am Anxiety attack).
I stole money once. I had no food, a child to look after and no way to get to work, so I stole money in order to put petrol in my car and just be able to buy something to feed my baby with that night. This is a true story. This takes a lot for me to write so publicly because everyone that knows me knows I have integrity. But I had no one to turn to. No one to ask to help me out and I needed to make sure my child is taken care of, and that I will be able to keep taking care of him, so I stole. I hate myself the most for this because it goes against everything I stand for, but when you have a small mouth to feed, whom did not ask you to be here, you do what you must.
These memories wakes me at 2am and I lie there pondering days gone by and repeatedly berate myself for the mistakes I have made in the past.
I don’t believe in hell, a burning pit of fire and brimstone that will torture you for eternity. Instead, I do believe, this is hell already. I believe in consequences for actions and that you will always be forced to repent for your sins one way or the other, and I believe that these 2am night terrors is my hell.
I promise I have always just strived to do my best. Be my best. To survive. Sometimes I feel proud of myself but sadly most times, I feel like I am wasting my time here on earth. I have felt empty for longer than I can imagine. For longer than I want to admit to myself. It is a very sad, and extremely exhausting way to exist. You cannot escape it. You live with it, and it is like living with the loss of someone you loved dearly. Time does not heal all wounds, time just helps you accept the loss, and how to continue living with the loss without it totally consuming your every thought.
But, alas, this blog is not all doom and gloom. I am 100% sure I am not the only person that feels like this, that lives like this. That has tried every single thing written in the books about self love, self acceptance, how to be happy and on and on it goes. This is a very internal feeling, emotion, believe if I am honest, that you are not enough, not worthy and will always remain that person that even you yourself can’t stand. There is very little that takes feeling away. For me, it has been alcohol for the longest time. Those few hours of oblivion where you do not remember how much you despise yourself, offers a form of relief. But it is fleeting, and it is not without consequence. The aftermath of feeling like an even bigger failure, the hangover-paranoia, the self loathing for spending money you do not actually have on booze, the weight gain, the lack of energy. The list goes on… I started to think about it. I started to realise that self medicating clearly wasn’t working as well as I thought it did for so many years. Self medicating has turned into self-destruction over the years, and I want, I need to quit this behaviour. For myself and for my little family that I love and cherish the most above anything else I have in this world.
When I say my family I mean Ryno, Aiden and Jaylenn, but I also mean my two very best family members I have been fortunate enough to have gained 12 months ago. Marike and Bernardine. The family I get to choose. These two are gems in my life. They have been a life line when I needed it the most. They have been there in this last year when for the briefest of moments, I had the world at my feet, only for it all to come crashing down in one foul swoop and I was left standing there with basically nothing.
So all three of us decided to do Dry January. Without really discussing it with each other but we all had it in the back of our minds and just by happenstance we realised we all wanted to try it, but a part of me didn’t think I could do it, until the three of us decided to do it together. I am very positive about this challenge. It is early days still but I am determined. Just waking up in the mornings and feeling fresh and energetic and actually wanting to get up and meditate, spend some quiet time outside with my beloved Sweetie Pie before the day begins is worth the booze-less evenings. I am also starting to notice a much lesser need for sleeping pills.
This is step one in my journey for 2023. To become healthier again, and building healthier habits and believing in myself.
Step two is one I would like to encourage each and every one of you to join me for, or at least give a try. Meditation. There is an app called Insight Timer, it is a free app that allows for donations if you so wish to do, but it is not a requirement for access to the app. Currently there is a Building Healthy Habits Challenge 2023 that I have joined. It is amazing what you can achieve with a few minutes of self reflection a day. If you are interested in joining, this is the link: https://insig.ht/cxLgBSPkwb . I can assure you, this app has helped me through some very rough times. It is worth checking out if you are going through a difficult situation or any other form of struggle. Please note, I am not getting paid or in anyway being compensated for advocating Insight Timer, I just find the app incredibly helpful and it is a must in my life to assist in Healthier Mental Health.
Todays blog has by far been the most soul baring I have ever written. I wanted to share some of my worst moments and thoughts as I am determined to live 2023 differently, and I am hopeful that maybe I can help someone else through their own journey. Even if just one person finds inspiration then it would have been worth baring my soul to the world.
Now, on a completely different note, I have started my own business! So please head on over to http://www.neatandchic.com (if you are local, in South Africa) and have a squiz on what I have to offer you. I have clothes, beauty services and other exciting products and services coming soon. The site is up and running, and all products displayed is in stock and ready to be shipped. The good news, any orders over R400 will qualify for Free Delivery in and around Gauteng, and, as a new visitor, you will qualify for a 10% discount on your first order!
So Dearest Friends, reach out if you need a shoulder, a joke, a good cry or just to chat. I am here, I am willing and I have an incredibly empathetic heart. Don’t be shy.
Have you ever felt like you’re about to burst open from the need to cry, scream, break something… just to get it all out? But instead all you can do is just sit there. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come anymore. What’s the point of it anyway, it won’t change anything. Nobody is coming to save you anyway.
I have had this conversation before – the “No one is coming for you” conversation. At the time it was an epiphany… I felt enlightened. Get up and get going and sort things out for yourself.
Today I feel dejected. I got up; I had an opportunity to make something better of my life and My God everyone who knows me knows I truly believed that this would be it, the change that would have changed everything. But then all those hopes and dreams crashed and burned in Aug, the way I secretly knew in my heart it would but wanted to believe so badly, would work out. I didn’t cry that day. I cannot seem to cry today but I feel like I am about to lose my mind. I wish today someone was coming to rescue me. I wish I believed in a God I could turn to and ask “What now?”
Days like these I miss my Dad the most. He was troubled yes, he had many faults and shortcomings, but I never really got the chance to know him as an adult. Maybe if we had more time to become acquainted in a more mature way, instead of a little girl wanting a Daddy that would love and protect her, maybe I would have had a confidante. Probably these are just the dreams of a grown little girl that has felt like an island all her life.
Perhaps I took the “No one is coming for you” epiphany a little too much to heart, and I think that perhaps I am, was, is??? so hell bent on never relying on anyone ever again that I ended up causing my own state of Islandness as an adult.
I don’t know anymore. I have an intense dislike in relying on others or just perhaps making a nuisance of myself. This can be psycho-analysed till the day I die, but it won’t change the walls I built but yet resent with every fibre of my being.
I came across this a few moments ago, and I think it’s quite a spot-on article.
I just wonder sometimes, about feeling like this. This feeling that everything is just so hard all the time that I wonder what am I even doing by trying?? In all honesty, lately what I feel like the most is an utter fool. Lost. I am not sure where I belong anymore.
The end of another year is upon us and I am sitting here really wondering, when did it all go wrong? When exactly did the world turn into a everyman for himself kind of planet? Will there ever be a way out of this?
I have been trying to keep these negative thoughts and feelings for myself as I am loathe to be part of the naysayers because Dear God the world is saturated with negativity. But here I am, jumping on the bandwagon and pouring my heart out to the world because this morning I have lost the battle with myself.
I had such big plans for the year. Everything was going to change, I was going to start a new life with Aiden and just be in a safe – even if blistering cold, environment. I literally spent hundreds of thousands of rands to make this dream come true and then everything, absolutely everything came crashing down on me and I literally crashed and burned and was reminded that a better life just isn’t meant for everyone. I hate being stuck in South Africa. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate South Africa, I hate what we have become. Survival of the fittest in its most primitive form.
And then, to top off all this heartbreaking disappointment another year has turned into, someone kicked my cat so hard I had to rush him to the vet at 1am this morning as I was convinced he was busy dying. He is currently on oxygen at the Animal Clinic and though he is stable, he is not doing well.
My heart is shattered. My other cat was run over by a car and killed and left on the side of the road like roadkill and now this. I will spend every last dime I have to make sure Mr Cuddlebugs survive but why was this even necessary?
And then, it is Aiden’s 10th Birthday today and his Mum is a blubbering mess.
I feel like I am failing at life, at motherhood, at being a partner and just in general as a human being. I feel like just giving in and letting life win.
Whom is happiness and a place in the sun meant for? A select few born into prosperity? The corrupt? The greedy and the Elite? How do you guard your heart against these emotions that persistently and constantly try to take over your life and turn you into a bitter old woman that just pokes people with her grumpy stick once life has taken its final toll?
I know I am not alone – I am not the only South African feeling incredibly unsure, unsafe and uncertain about where this country is going. Where will it end? When will we be able to live in the most sought after country – the way it used to be before corruption and theft and state capture, again?
Update: my cat just passed away… why are people so cruel…
Today I want to say, Know your worth. Even if it feels like it is going to fucking kill you, but know your worth.
I am walking away today. From the person I thought was going to be My Forever Person
But alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Again. This time though, I am sad, not broken. Because I am not walking away because I gave up or said something in anger – but I need to start realizing my worth.
Pls do not make this out as anything other than I need to accept who I am – I am difficult. I am moody. I know what I want and I am a control freak. But I am also kind and caring and love with my entire heart and I tend to give until I have nothing left to give – not even to myself anymore. So what I am saying is not that this was a bad relationship, but rather that I am realizing that to be who I am, is okay. Even in all my inglorious imperfections.
I wanted to share this not for sympathy because another chapter has ended – but to help myself close the book on this one. It hurts, it’s disappointing, I wanted it to be different, but I am walking away this time saddened and disappointed, but not broken.
I am recovering from Corona and consider myself ‘lucky’. ‘Lucky’ that I got ill, but didn’t die and wasn’t even close to dying. I am one of the ‘lucky’ ones that just got sick and had to stay in bed, drink my meds and rest. Which I did, and now I am better.
And then this.
Our fellow South Africans and Countrymen are destroying what is left after the Pandemic has been doing it’s very best to ruin us. We got up from the ashes of a major hard lockdown last year, and we rebuilt. So many of us were left jobless (me included), so many were left destitute, and I heard of way too many people who committed suicide as they simply couldn’t see a way out of total bankruptcy and failure due to not being able to generate an income for months… months of not being able to take care of their families.
And now this…
Fires, looting… this is the face of South Africa this morning
I can almost not bear to look at it. My soul is hurting because this destruction is not hurting the politicians or Jacob Zuma or any of the Fat Cats that have always been sitting in their mansions eating Fillet steak and drinking expensive wines while their country starves. This is hurting those who have barely been able to survive in a country so rotten with fraud and theft I do not know if we will ever get back to the Sunshine and the richest this country has to offer it’s people.
God I am so heartbroken today. I feel defeated, and I am not even sat on the street with nothing to feed my children or a blanket to keep them warm. Those are the ones hurting the most, and those are the ones that will walk away from this broken and beaten yet again.
I wish I could leave. I wish I could take my partner and my kids and get out. Go somewhere where we will be safe. Where our hard work will bare fruits and where our kids can grow up with a future…
I read a poem this morning, it is written in Afrikaans so I will try and translate it as it is wording exactly how I feel this morning:
We bow our heads half mast
and search for the answers
as if they will fall from the heavens between anger and flames
the only thing raining down on us are rocks between softly whispered prayers
and the only thing we are redeemed from is our hope, and a people that used to believe in it
I cast my eyes up to the mountains and
I know that if I was going to do so for anyone, it would be you, South Africa
but our flag doesn’t fly in the wind anymore, not even half-mast like our heads do
I had to wait up. I have been waiting for this moment for 10 years!! I. Fucking. Love. Turning. Forty.
For me this is an entire new chapter. A chance to actually achieve everything I thought I should have achieved in my 30’s.
Let me tell you a secret:
You never grow up.
You will never reach that point where you feel like you have arrived (age wise). My Mum once told me, I think she was 34 at the time, and she said to me that she didn’t feel a day over 18… I was completely baffled by her statement. If she was 34, I must have been 11 at the time, and I simply couldn’t understand what she meant. I tried to figure it out. I was thinking about those words for years… For the next 25 years I kept thinking about those words wondering how my Mother could still feel like a child.
Until one day. I don’t recall the exact day, but I remember the thought vividly like I had actually spoken the words.
“I still feel as clueless as when I was 18.”
And to this day I often hear those words echoed in my thoughts.
Initially I thought my Mum meant she was immature, right?
No. She meant, she still didn’t have a clue. I judged her at that point. How I wish I knew then what I know now. I wish I understood.
So here it is Boys and Girls;
You will never know what the fuck you’re doing. Or what you’re about. Or where you’re going. Or what your purpose in life is.
But!! For me, at the age of FORTY I am going to Goddamn Motherfucking claim it and just be.
I’ve tried for so many years to fit in with my family. To feel like I belong. To feel like I have a place in this world. For at least 32 of my (nearly) 40 years, that was all I wanted. To feel like I am a part of something I never asked to be a part of.
I think I’m going to stop now.
It has affected every part of my life on every level, and I am so tired. It’s a battle I can never win. It’s a battle no one else even realise I am fighting.
I have visions of disappearing. Just embracing and/or accepting that I am too far gone down this road I have been walking alone for the last, and this is scary, not even 32 years, probably 39.
We are so indoctrinated that what we need in life to feel whole, is to settle down. Have a family. Sprout roots and do as every one else does. Lover, children, job, home. But if that’s what’s supposed to make me happy, why do I still feel so goddamn empty inside? There is huge gaping hole and I just cannot seem to fill it. For years now I have been hoping that the cavity simply needed more wine. But alas. It does not.
But I wish the answer was as simple as that. Pack my bags and travel the world and live a nomadic life… but I know. I know, the emptiness will still remain. It’s like a black hole. All it does is consume your every effort to fill it.
I’m feeling let down tonight. I always believed that Feeling like I belonged would be just around the corner and that filling the gaping hole, is within my grasp.
It is not.
This is life.
Never feeling completely happy.
Always wanting more.
And yet, Never achieving enough to make you feel like, well, you have achieved… enough.
Jaylenn’s 10 year old cousin came to visit for the long weekend. She is the cutest 10 year old I have ever met in my life before. She’s about 3 feet tall, with the cutest little dimples and she is simply the cheekiest little thing I have ever met.
So let me give you a little bit of context of where this story originated. In 2018 I found myself single, and living in a High Rise Apartment building I absolutely hated. I literally found myself singing ‘Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage’ everytime I drove into the estate. I fucking hated every minute of it. But anyway, I digress, and becoming aggressive again which seemingly one is not allowed to do. One should grin and bare every single obstacle life throws at you with a mere nod of the head and a Queens Wave… but sorry, I digress, again! Anyway so living in a high rise I hate, my sister Geozel, invites me on a night out with her boyfriend and her friends. I felt like she was throwing me a lifeline so I literally grabbed it with both hands.
So Saturday comes and I decide to do the responsible thing, and take an Über as I was planning on getting hammered. Oh and I did, I got totally toasted, but I looked really hot so it’s all good.
Anyway, so out with my sister, getting totally sloshed and dancing and talking to everyone in the pub, I eventually realized I was too drunk and needed to get home. So I order another Über.
I should be embarrassed to admit to how drunk I was, but I’m not. I needed it. Anyway so the Über takes me home and I swear to God he drove in circles around the Estate until I eventually just told him I would get out, and have a good night Mr. Über Driver. Probably he wasn’t driving around in circles at all and it was merely my world spinning around me, but be that as it may, I got out and started walking towards the block I lived in at the time. This my dear friends, took another half an hour to find.
And this is where it all started going wrong.
I eventually find the door to the entrance of the block I live in, only to find the electronically accessed door, broken. Someone had literally broken off the handle and there was just no way I could open the door. In my drunken stupor I do manage to find the caretakers number on my phone, but baring in mind it was 2am, there was no answer. So at this point I realized I would have to get one of the guards to help me open the door, and this would mean trekking all the way back to the entrance. My block was literally the last block of flats on the estate (this was also the reason I chose it, figuring it would mean a bit more privacy considering we were living like, well, rats in cages).
This is the moment I wish I didn’t listen to my drunken brain and just slept on the floor outside the building door. Because at this stage I decide I am too drunk to walk back to the entrance, and that I would instead, drive there.
It’s probably important to point out that just as we are living like sardines, our cars are parked like ducks in a row with these bloody horrific cement pillars either on the left, or the right side of your car. It takes careful maneuvering to get your car in and out without scratching or denting it, when you’re sober. It takes pure magic when you’re drunk. But I manage. I reverse my car and manage to drive, with one eye open, to the entrance. I am not sure how the guards understood what I needed but they get some sort of tool and follow me back to the last block of flats, on the estate.
*enter long sigh here*
Again, could I not just have slept in-front of the broken door till someone else left the building and had to open the door from the inside?
Because even in my drunken state, the moment my passenger side door connected with the blasted concrete pillar, I knew. I knew I had just fucked up my car. I didn’t even attempt to correct the car, or look at the damage. I just went inside and got into bed. That next morning was like waking up the morning after someone bad broken up with you. I realized something was wrong but it took me a second to remember exactly what. My Friends, I couldn’t get myself to go look at the damage until much later that Sunday afternoon. And when I saw what I had done I burst into tears. The tears were for the damage, but more so because there was no way I could afford the co-payment on the insurance to have it fixed.
Anyway, so jump to Sunday, 21 March 2021. We are all happily driving around in my stillseverely damaged car, I just haven’t been able to find the money to have it fixed yet, and we’re driving home from the shop with all kinds of Sunday-drivers driving infront of me. Naturally, I yell at one of them (or maybe more like yelled at about 3 of them – and yes, I do get irate in traffic but I dare anyone who spends at least 80% of their day in traffic, to handle it better than me – ja, The Aggression in my posts are clearly a sensitive subject for me at the moment), and this very particular Honda Driver was really driving like an imbecile, so forgetting for a moment I had a 13 year old and a very cheeky 10 year old in the car with me, I yell at the Honda Driver that she was going to drive me to drinking while driving!
Now Friends, nothing in life could prepare me for the next ten seconds of my life, because the next moment, the only thing you could hear, is this tiny little voice from the back of the car saying; “No wonder the car looks the way it does”.
I haven’t laughed so hard and so long, for a very long time.
Aaaahh from the mouths of Babes they say hey. Little Ashleigh, truer words probably haven’t been spoken.
Wine Fli 