So after 14 years of living by myself, I moved back home with my folks 20 month ago. And just this weekend I moved out again, with a totally different feeling than I did at 18 years old. Strangely enough I felt more comfortable(ignorant) about the financial side of life 16 years ago. I’m not scared though, I wonder if a part of me did less because less was required? I don’t know and I’m not interested in answering that right now. I feel closer to you somehow, like I’m more in the vicinity of you. Time will tell I guess. I was chatting with my fabulous friend Dibsy this morning about the importance of moving out of the family dynamic. As much as there is definitely an abundance of love in my family dynamic, there is something silent that takes hold of us within these relationships. I was not well in the time that I lived with my folks, months of fatigue and then lymph problems that also messed with my mobility. I will be eternally grateful to my parents for supporting me in so many ways without making an issue of it. We did so much healing without any official healing plan or conversation. I had so many useless, but nasty beliefs about my relationship with each parent that I needed to shift. This process could only have occurred as it did, I don’t think any amount of therapy could have provided more insight that experience itself. That chapter is done and as I said. I feel closer to you now.
That said, i am however still in my bleak-pms-week. It’s not all sold down the river, just a lot of work to be how I normally feel. Maybe how I normally feel is overrated? Wait I take that back, that is just the sneaky way my underachiever convinces me that it is okay to mainline sugar, replace love with cereal and sleep in because its ‘ok’ to not exercise/eat healthy/ be polite to drivers in my bleak-week. These are all moment which I give up the dream of you and I in favour of something that is 60% sugar 40%fat 100% chocolate. And I don’t only substitute you with food and alcohol (which by the way is a deadly combination and often leads to emotional hysteria), I also substitute you with permission to buy what I want if spare cash is to be had or a marathon of whichever series I happen to get my hands on (also a dangerous combination, mellow drama + mellow drama = ‘I think I should change my life drastically’) How does it go so pear-shaped babe? A normally well adjusted, disciplined, consistently optimistic and grounded chick, for one week every couple of months turns into an anxious, fearful, sugar-hungry maniac???
I have still been successful though, as hard as it may seem to believe. I’ve secured another 2 people as sponsors for The Babyhouse. I was wondering last night, in a fleeting calm moment, is much of this unfamiliar anxiety is a part of a process in which my psyche is aligning itself to open and run a place of safety for children, actually babies. I can’t see how it wouldn’t at least be lending itself to a prep session from the gods, isn’t that what life is, preparation and resolve? Maybe that would be a little cynical. Manny and I were just discussing the miracle of life that we are distracted from by organised religion. Shoo! The benefit of having a monolog is that I can make sweeping unqualified statements like that and continue conversing without being muted by some ones offense. You’ll get to know Manny, my dad’s best friend, he’s a non-blood uncle to all of us. Great to philosophise with, if being offended is something you’ve moved past or at least able to conceal very well in his company. Especially if there are brother’s around! Oh, yes brothers, did I mention I have 3 of them? All big in body and opinion? Don’t be intimidated my babe, they are simple...beer and food, and don’t show them too much of your metro sexual, sensitive side – ( it just makes you a soft target) kind of guys.
I look forward to you meeting my family, I also have a sister and brother-in-law in Aus. With whom I’m actually very close. The three of us lived together for a couple of years, which really worked for my sis and I, but I can guarantee that when her and I both synchronised with the moon and our bleak-weeks coincided I think he wished he had never met either of us. He is too nice to say this about my sister, as there are consequences to husbands who say such things about wives, no matter how true they are. Take note please.
I do think this is going to be a lucky week though, not that you’ve been affected by my hormonally jacked-up system, but fellow drivers have indeed suffered. Babe, the strange thing is I don’t lose it and get all pissed off with them. Oh no, I take on none of the anger, I merely show unnecessary disrespectful gestures their way (if you are not South African, let me explain that this is the Achilles heal of most South Africans, they are obsessed with being respected and have this crazy concept of ownership on the road. It is MY lane and MY turn and MY MYMY). So the best way to get even is to make out like you learned to drive in Luanda where there are no traffic lights (if you are South African, no robots) let alone a complete road or official stop street or the concept of ‘everyone takes turns’. Turns? Life’s to frikken short to take the time for you, then you, then me. So anyways these silly fools who fail to even catch my attention outside of bleak-week will not even know. But somehow one less belligerent driver will count somewhere in the scheme of things. This week is their lucky week for 3 very related reasons. 1 my bleak-week is about to culminate in an unfertilized egg vacating the premises. An egg that I am sure, even at this stage of my life is super-healthy as I haven’t smoked anything for over 15 months and I got up at 6am this beautiful morning to walk 3km’s which I plan on cranking up to 6km’s every morning and 3 yoga classes per week. The next two reasons, I’m sure, are also gonna add to my egg quality because I know that this is a topic close to your heart. Event number two would be my check-up with my endocrinologist, the incredible ambitious man whose sole purpose is to bring some sense of rationality and balance into people who are hormonally challenged. Trust me, men fall into this category too honey! Sure, they aren’t the majority, but I think there is a little denial going on there. I know you may be thinking that the last week should have been less bleak if I have a doctor specifically looking after mad-man oestrogen and satan-sporn progesterone, but it’s a delicate science that takes time and patience. How ironic?? When last did you tell a woman raging on an imbalance to be patient? For godsakes a hormonally zen man battles at the best of time to be patient!
The third treat for the week then would be a visit to the nutritionist, who is going to take away all my you-substitutes and give me a dream that will indeed come true with a fair deal of reverse psychology. The same kind of chat that got me off my seventeen year road trip with my mates tobacco and occasionally, anything else grass’ish that was fun to smoke. Luckily the chat was so convincing they both became quickly un-fun to smoke. It’s going to have to be a strong, firm, talk with sugar, cereal and choc! The kind that induces just a healthy amount of fear I think, because the thing is it’s not like I can give up eating (I’ve tried before in my more ambitious teen years). There was a window period in my teenage years when that was a reality, but it past, along with ability to pull all-nighters twice a week.
So much promise is in the air my love. Moving out of mom and dad has indeed brought a newness and long may it last! You are going to love them too, they are so chill I pinch them every now and then to make sure they still alive, only joking! They will be nothing but lovely and harmless to you, because they are not your parent. As will your parents seem to me, unless they are overbearing. A detail we will deal with when we get there.
How was your day babe?
Your wife. X
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