There are screams at night but you’re deaf to them
Deaf and dumb and blind
And I will wither away with Spring’s arrival
To mingle with the stars in the dark
There are screams at night but you’re deaf to them
Deaf and dumb and blind
And I will wither away with Spring’s arrival
To mingle with the stars in the dark
Since last week’s blog, I’ve come to realize a few things:
Last week I wrote a blog about my struggle with depression in an attempt to reach out to the rest of everyone out there who may have been through or is currently going through the same thing.
After completing the blog I then personally messaged those people I considered closest to me and/or would be in connection with someone who might know how to help. I mailed just under 20 people. I was hopeful and looking forward to the new doors this might open, because I have been told that there is always help for those who ask for it.
Well I haven’t just asked for it; I pretty much at this point am begging for it. Out of the 18 or so that I shared my blog with 3 people read and adequately responded… either with concern or a suggestion, 2 others said it was an “awesome” blog to which … when I asked if they had actually read the thing, I pretty soon figured out that they hadn’t even bothered.
This past week I have had to deal with not just the sadness but also with realizing that the people I have been referring to as my closest friends actually couldn’t care less. I’ve had to deal with flash backs from traumatic experiences from my childhood, insecurities, being frustrated that moving to a different city with its different dynamics whilst not knowing anyone is scarier than moving to a new country. Not only am I leaving the people I know in the old city, I am leaving them behind because if I am to find real help and truly move on, I have to start by surrounding myself with people who actually care always and not just when it suits them.
So, here’s the thing. Since there is clearly no one out there who is really willing to help, I guess I will just rant and rave on this blog. I will spill my secrets (as uncomfortable as that might be at first), and I will hope that the process of writing everything down and going through the motions and emotions of it all, might actually help the process.
For sure though, I’m done with being the one who always makes the effort, always forgives and makes excuses for how badly other people treat me. It’s not fair to anyone, especially to me and those who are closest to me because in the end it takes away from the trust I have in them and their intentions for me.
I’m tired of crying for everything, because it feels like everything is just going from grey to black and I see nothing bu feel everything. This blog was started with the intention of being something positive in a really negative world.
Perhaps this world has to be my own.
You don’t get help.
I was going to title this something along the lines of getting mental health help in South Africa, but just yesterday I experienced something that kind of set me back a little. Let me start off by sharing this story.
At some point last year a friend of mine suggested an online counselor to me, she’s from the USA and she seemed pretty willing to help, she was even willing to drop her prices in order to accommodate my income at that point in time. I was supposed to hear from her in January 2017. I emailed her again yesterday (14 August 2017) only to be told that her slots are full but I could try again in September 2017. Cool, so she didn’t bother with me because her slots (luckily for her) were filled with people for whom she obviously didn’t need to drop her prices. She was kind enough though to refer me to betterhelp.com, they are supposed to be a group of affordable online therapists, BUT before you can even contact them, you have to fill out a form that is supposed to help them place you with the right therapist. It was a very short questionnaire and it went something like this:
Q: Are you currently experiencing anxiety and depression?
Q: Are you currently experiencing suicidal thoughts?
Q: Are you suicidal?
Q: How would you rate your current income: good, fair, poor.
End of questionnaire. What does my income have to do with finding the right therapist for me?
We understand it takes a tremendous amount of courage to reach out and ask for help. Unfortunately, based on the answers given when you signed up, we determined that online counseling with BetterHelp may not be the best option for you.
Online counseling is still new and is not the most effective form of therapy for everybody. However, you deserve to get the best help possible, and seeking for help is certainly a step in the right direction. We recommend considering traditional face-to-face therapy and you can find many available therapists in your area by clicking here. If you are in a crisis, or if you need immediate help, please look at these resources.
We are sorry that we couldn’t be helpful to you at this time. Please note that your records, including any information you submitted when you signed up, have been deleted and removed from our database.
Please let us know if you have any questions or concerns.
This was the response I received shortly after completing the question form.
I have been looking for an affordable therapist for the past few years. I have tried researching our local government institutions and the reviews are frightening, and so I figured I have better chance of surviving without attending a government institution. Private institutions are out of the question as they obviously cost a whole lot more than I can afford to spend, and the cheapest therapist I’ve managed to find, costs 2 times more than what is within my price range, and even if I managed to find someone that is technically within that range, it would still be a struggle for me to see them once a week or even once a month.
The point is: I know I need help, I am actively looking for it, and in the meantime I’m picking at all kinds of scabs and wounds in order to find some sort of root or cause for whatever it was that brought me to this point.
I’m not going to go into how I actually feel at this point in time. This is not a pity party blog, but rather – a final attempt at finding someone who may be willing to help, because I am more than willing to work towards getting better.
For the very first time ever, I have found a home and someone who loves me not just on my good days, but on my bad days too, and if not just for myself, I would like to be better for my partner too.
So this is my plea, if you know of someone, or might even know someone who might know of someone, please send a link to this post and I hope that at some point, someone will realize that a human life is worth more than a few dollars/rands/pounds. I don’t even mind being a research subject if that means finding my feet again.
Thank you for your time,
One of the very first books I read from Moon Books had to do with spirit animals and animal magic, and as a wolf I definitely need the comfort of the forest. This book isn’t just an instruction manual (like so many of these type of books are) it cuddles you up in forest and that for me is priceless.
I am lucky enough to have the follow up books to this first gem, and I am excited to start on my next adventure with lady Draco. I strongly recommend this book and probably will ( I’m pretty sure) the rest of her books. I also found her page Traditional Witchcraft so go have a look at that too.
In terms of style I enjoy that she is more of a story teller like I mentioned earlier. It also makes me happy that old lore is a recurring topic and that we get to learn and bathe in the wonders of things that we will possibly never be able to fully comprehend.
I think I have exhausted my thesaurus and just writing this review makes the hairs on my body stand up in excitement and admiration.
Definitely worth the time it took to get to this book.
‘She asked me if I enjoyed listening to poetry’…
I could not reply,
Instead I turned and ran away.
Not noticing that the sky had begun to paint a landscape filled with neon
halfheartedly I passed by each section of this little world and stumbled,
evidently unaware of how deeply her unanswered question moved me
– haha – literally
To the point of falling –
over a little pit of nothingness ,
a picturesque silence of stories yet to be created, and after all what is poetry?
Is it not the symphony of breaths paired in passion?
Could one find poetry in hands trembling in fear of touching…
The uncertainty of possibly losing control if those palms were to connect?
How poetic is that look?
When knees and veins react to it as though that stranger’s stare is everything your life has been preparing you for.
If such sights induce poetic thoughts then :
how do we hear them?
Unless you press your ear hard to her chest in a rested attempt to caress the nestled bit of love in her arms.
She asked me whether I liked hearing poetry –
Well I’d sure like to find out about the sounds of her heart…
Until then I will keep walking, stumbling as I convince myself that the question was merely a passing of time in an exchange of casual conversation…
After all – What is poetry?
This is how their Satan whispers
Like willful death they creep in forms of sound waves
husky voices in the darkness
I remember my first real relationship as if it had just ended.
First she told me I was gross for being gay. After that she asked for my number. She then made a point of speaking to me every day until two weeks later : we were dating.
It was excruciatingly confusing. I think what will always bother me about that is the fact that I was just assumed to be someone who had dated before and who knew what they were doing when it came to being with another human (let alone another woman)… And in the end I ended up being left behind because I clearly had no idea what I was doing. All I could do was offer that raw, unpolished version of an extremely infatuated me.
Let me add a little note here: At the age of 15, I had to start working in order to help my dad out. The only person who knew that was in fact my dad. To the rest of the world, I seemed to be that ignorant person who got into the party life a little too early and whose then only seeming goal was to work at a bar. BAH !
For the most part (and by that I mean my teen years) ; the only cursor I had in life was music. No one attended parents evenings, or checked homework, or even considered to enquire as to my state of mind or emotion. So this is to be kept in mind for the remainder of this blog. Learning how to love, how to be attractive, how to adult and keep a relationship without any guidance was a little difficult.
I ended my second relationship because I was deathly afraid that it would turn out like my first. I then spent a few years trying to regain it… Because the emotions were still there… My fear had just become hers so; I take full responsibility for that.
Number three … Lonely number three, was not lonely at all. We met at a friend’s birthday party and we somehow just knew. She was the life of the party and the center of attention. A first year in University at the age of 17! That in itself was something worth falling in love with. To be honest…
I have absolutely no idea why that didn’t work out. We didn’t date… We seemed to just miss each other going in and out of relationships; but it got ugly when my personal life at home started falling apart. I guess no one wants to be with a person who doesn’t really have much to offer in the realm of material things. My mother was one of those people so – I suppose she wasn’t the only one. After that I suddenly became repulsive and out of nowhere I was rumored as a stalker!
What a joke.
The worst part is I continued loving this person for many years even after all that. I will also not forget the time between. As I mentioned earlier; I was a little bit of a lost soul/nomad during this time. What saved me in the end was my job… As lowly as it may have (or may still) seem. There was a night when number three and her friends were partying it up at the place where I work. I was dressed comfortably (I wasn’t necessarily presentable), just comfy. One of her friends swopped some Euros with me . I gave her the Euros and she gave me a beer. I knew I was being cheated, but I needed to at least have a beer while I watched the one person I truly cared about – shut me out due to the opinions of other people.
Now… That same friend of hers who so kindly supplied me with a beer that evening; saw me and my current partner at a music event a few months back, and to my horror she remembered that night as the last time we had seen each other. She then proceeded to add how “sad” that was and how awful that I worked at a bar. She assumed I had other work because I’d just returned from Germany… And I went to Germany in pursuit of someone else. I often wonder if why people look down on me for that only because they probably will never have it in them, to give it all away and move to another country; unsure of whether it is even plausible to be with this person.
Which brings me here. To this spot. This instant smile that forms at just the thought of my person… And she really is mine. I still struggle believing that sometimes. She truly transcends all understanding I have of humans. I’m a pessimist when it comes to humanity so, she’s a wonder to me!
I was going to go through every heartache chronologically in order to get here, but I realized right now; that it’s stupid.
For every girl who thought I was incapable, Rudi empowered me.
For every girl who didn’t even bother to understand, Rudi has listened to me.
For every girl who wouldn’t dare look for too long because I didn’t have much, Rudi made a home for me just out of the stuff her heart and soul are made up of.
For every rejection, she gives me smiles and cuddles, laughter, companionship, honesty, trust.
For all of my alone – she is my family.
Wow it’s frightening … To read my own thoughts and know that soon; they will be solidified.
So to hell with the things that hurt and scarred and scorched. There is no more need to compare myself to anyone or to be afraid of public opinion.
My person’s reaching out for me, so – gotta go. 😊
That morning she didn’t expect to wake. In fact she’d planned to never awake again. It was sunny, her head hurt a little, but apart from the head hurt, it didn’t feel like much of a failed suicide attempt.
Her food was cold when she got around to eating it; to her surprise her appetite had made an unexpected reappearance. She enjoyed every bite, and things seemed to be better. She mused that perhaps all it took was the bravity of facing her own mortality without fear… it was only after she had cleared her plate that she decided to get up and face the day.
Her phone rang as she was about to open the door. Luckily she hadn’t, because her mother’s worried voice echoed as she listened, not able to coherently respond to the rehearsed delivery of bad news.
It was meant to be her death, instead… the other got it right.
That other with the brown eyes and childish smile.
The other with her favorite lips pasted on almost perfectly… that other… no longer existed.
Suddenly the tasty food re exited without warning and her head threw her almost instantly in her own vomit. She was waiting for tears, or a heart attack or something that was other than the empty vessel she now related to.
The other … memory.
The girl in room 3 had no pills left to drown her life in and bleeding out would take too long.
The girl in room 3 buried both herself and the other that instant. She cut out the struggles and with a new clarity she realized it would have been better to breathe before saying goodbye.
Today is my last day
I manage to crawl off the bed that ceased to be coupled almost a decade ago
then land in my still relatively tiny bathroom, though my own physique seems to be shrinking by the second now
I look up at my reflection and I realise the purpose of mirrors
There is a headline,
wrinkled and grey beneath its letters seems to unfold like an over ripe flower without ever having been touched
I shuffle along until I trip over the now almost dry white board marker and I begin the list:
One: I inherited the dark lines of deceit off my mother’s core
Two: I learned how to live with being a liar
Three: I came as a foreign being full of love
Four: I was denied love but I’m still leaving filled with only those four letters
Five: Life was beautiful though the darkness is always the beginning of a new story
Six: I inherited the art
Seven: I will never forget
I rinse myself off and decide that it would be better to leave full of hope
3 months before they expected me I was ready
13 years before I was
The wardrobe whispered the call of majesty
I obeyed my longing eyes
past the dioors and my goodbye suit
I found the two letter phrase barely in disguise and I remembered why
One: I learned how to judge myself better than anyone had ever judged me
Two: It wasn’t always sunny
Three: How to fake the smile through heartache
Four: How to cause the same
Five: My clothes are cheap
Six: I am unworthy
Seven: I knew this each time we made eye contact… after all; we are self proclaimed judges
So neat, tidy and fresh I walk towards the lonely seat and the non functional tv
and on the top right hand corner of the screen
A phrase in white paint screams out at me
One: My skin colour murdered my first love
Two: I inherited the skill of not caring much for those attributes
Three: My father Died of a broken heart
Four: You saved mine
Five: Our life was puzzled together by vibes and muted sentences
Six: In the end, my quirks were irrelevant and your were my indica
Seven: I fell eternally asleep with the very thoughts that days and nights before had always haunted me.
Palm on palm now
My eye lids find their space
No tears left in me
My heritage day is eternal
and I only grew to know that the moment I looked into you!