In two months, I will turn 41 and our eldest child, Aime Ludick will be celebrating her milestone birthday of 18.
I am so proud to have been a part of parenting her and the honour of guiding her and 
At 41 I just feel like I should have reached my goals, figured out what I am supposed to be in this world and I have this constant feeling of not being enough.
I mean, I thought I would be so many things by now. A doctor, financially secure, a rock star...
I also thought I would have another chance to have a baby, but that ship is sailing past me. With the meds I am on, my physical and psychological state and the economic state of our family show that having a baby would be totally implausible. I would have to go off all my meds, lose about 40 kgs and magically win the lottery so that I wouldn't have to give birth at our local government hospital.
When I had Matthew, I was 27. Matthew was a carefully picked name from our many many baby name books. We had quite a democratic process in place when it came to naming him, even before we new his gender. I took to researching boys names and my now ex-husband took the girls names.
The rules were: no ex girlfriends or ex boyfriends
And once we had compiled a list of our top 5 favourite names, we would make the final decision together.
We Chose Matthew because it just felt... right. It means gift from God.
His birth did not go according to plan at all and had me rushed off for an emergency c-section as with of us were struggling
with exhaustion. His little heart rate was dropping, even with contractions and he had somehow shifted from the perfect birthing position, right back up into the womb. This meant I was effectively "in labour" and at 38 weeks, he was ready to come out, but we discovered that either his head was too big or my pelvis was too small and there was no pressure to help me dilate. After 12 -16 hours of contractions, bouncing on balls, going for walks and going through a canister and a half of "happy gas" I conceded to the procedure. It was terrifying. I honestly though I was going to die.
If I had another baby, the chances of me going through something similar would be very very high, and I wouldn't want to risk my baby's or my life in the hands of an overwhelmed government institution.
But there is still an ache in me. I still have friends all around me, welcoming new babies into their lives and I am honestly jealous.
I know that logically, it's not on the cards for me, but I can't help but envy those who have the privilege of having a second child.
I used to chastise my mother for falling pregnant with me... when she new my father was spiraling and my older sister was already an extremely difficult child. I turned out to be the polar opposite of my sister, either through nurture or nature and I was always known for my quiet and gentle nature. I always wondered if I was what pushed my family over the edge and caused my father to fall off completely.
But now, despite all logic, I feel like I'm going to miss the buss. There are no words to describe what it feels like to grow a tiny human in your body. When he got bigger, I could actually feel his head, legs, arms, elbows and feet depending on which way around he was. I used to get so distracted with this that, my poor customers wouldn't get any coffee! I was too busy trying to identify what body part was poking me.
my favourite shots from my maternity shoot
I understand now, though, the biological pull towards wanting another child. It's completely illogical...but yet as the timer ticks down to menopause and the hour glass runs out, I know I've run out of chances.
Perhaps I should have stayed with my ex for a year or two longer or at least had another baby while I was still on medical aid. I mean, that's crazy talk, the man was a monster, but I am starting understand my mother's decision making.
I just didn't expect that I would only have one chance.
And it was hard for me.
Aside from baby making, there have been other things on my mind. I have just emerged from a complete mental shut down as all the trauma of the past three years just got too heavy and I drowned. I went into those years with such a different outlook, as if I was a completely different person. And I suppose I was.
I tried being vocal, I tried asking for help but the only person who was truly there for me was
It didn't matter to him if I was right or wrong. All that mattered was that he kept me safe. mostly from myself.
People are always constantly posting on social media about suicide helplines and how they would rather hear what you need to be helped with than receive the news that you took your own life, but the truth is vastly different.
Suicide hotlines just lead you to dead ends. There is only private care, the cheapest of which is ZAR40k for around a three or four week stay/ in-patient treatment.
As for Government facilities, they are just packed beyond capacity. Waiting lists are years long and those who have been through the system have told me absolute horror stories.
Somehow, through the grace of God, my husband, my children and a handful of friends, I made it through. But God, was it hard. It was like I was in the upside down.
People who promised they would be there for me for life disappeared. People who could not handle what I was going through disappeared.
I look through memories from just for or five years ago and I wonder how I changed so much. Aside from the weight gain -thanks to being pretty much immobile most of the time(which is why I slept and rested most of my way through the holiday, plus it's something my mother likes to rub in my face. I mean she's been doing it since my skinny teens - hence the anorexia so I don't know why I still take her seriously), I have also become ... shell shocked. Like, I'll cry uncontrollably without warning and wont stop till it's all out.
I'm terrified of the hammer dropping: of another shitshow thrown my way, just as I have ascended to "the right side up" with the rest of the human race. It's just so incredibly sad to look around and realize that during the hardest time of my life, people who I considered to be the closest to me, simply vanished.
I feel like musically, we were really gaining traction, that I was gaining traction, but because I had to step back for a while, that's all it took to be forgotten. It makes me wonder if all those deep connections I made were really that deep after all...
I have officially made it to 3 moths of my probationary period. Hpefully I will be made permanent in the next shrt while. I have been working hard to prove that I am an asset to the company.
I am so grateful that I finally landed a position, that is completely ideal for me. And the money isn't half bad either. I am just waiting for the probation period to pass and to become permanent. At least that will make me feel a bit more centered.
It's done absolute wonders for my mental health, self esteem and of course my finances to finally be employed again.
After doing a lot of soul searching recently - especially with all the stories I was telling in honour of South Africa's "15 Days of Activism Against Gender Based Violence - and digging up the past - in the hopes of lancing old wounds and it was exhausting.
Necessary and I suppose in hindsight it was necessary to put things into focus for me. I don't want to look backwards anymore. But who am I without my pain? Who am I without my past? I don't know, but I do know that reliving it is giving those memories a chance to eat me alive, like I'm stuck in Stephen King's "Langoliers."
What does this all mean for me musically? I mean, my inspiration for the majority of my songs stems from my past. Yet I keep buying new strings from my guitar that I never play because I've just lost all inspiration. Like I've been wrung out dry.
Perhaps I just need some time. Time to move out of survival mode and back to feeling safe n my own skin. Perhaps I just need to find my centre again. And I don't know how long it will take or how many more friends I will lose along the way, but it's a process I can't force.
I am just truly grateful to those who have stuck around... ad held onto me like I really mattered. I reckon it will take me at least a year to start loving the person who is looking back at me in the mirror.
I also just finished watching the Gilmore Girls, which I don't know how I missed or never heard of when it came out. Rory was just a year older than me, but when I see how young she was when I was living the life of someone in their late 20's at 16, I'm horrified. I look at my own daughter who exudes so much potential and passion, yet softness and innocence. I lost my childhood. But I am so glad to say that my children still have theirs. Thank you,
The loss of connection with my sister damn near killed me, but I am slowly making progress and healing, now that I know she's skipped the country. It does make me incredibly sad though, that I don't know how much time I have left with my rapidly declining mother and I am scared shitless of dealing with her death alone. My sister will have let both of her parents pass away without saying goodbye, but that is her decision. And she has to live with it.
In a way I understand why she did what she did... disappearing on me and causing a massive agruement that tore us apart around the time I was preparing for my dad's funeral. I think she just lost it. At 46, and even as a talented artist, she did not become the rockstar she thought she'd be, and neither have I.
But That's ok.
I have made peace with the idea that there is nothing wrong with being an ordinary person. I dn;t have to push so hard to be extra-ordinary. I will continue writing music and playing guitar when I am up to it, but I have taken the pressure off myself completely. It has caused regret and anger in both of us but just like always, I turn negative feelings inward while She lashes out at the people she is closest to. I hope her sabatical gives her peace and perspective. I have given up on trying to fix "us." It has to be a two way street and she's made her decision to stay out of my life.
I have my moments though, It's not simple. The 7th of January was her 46th birthday and I cried the whole day. It took me another day to get over the emotional hangover and then I was ok, until I realized that out of habit, I had left the Christmas lights up for her. Something we did our whole lives.
Grief is weird that way. T's not just a straight line or a 7 step process. It's messy and unexpected and it hurts, but you eventually grow around it. I hate the phrase that time heals all wounds because for me, at least, that is not true at all. Best I can do is take it as it comes, go with the flow, not fight t and not obsess.
There are so many goals I had in life, missed opportunities and really bad decision making. But really, this whole time, I just wanted to feel safe and loved. And I have that now. After what I've been through, I think it's ok to be a little off centre for a while <3
While being a person who struggles to let go of the past, I have recently been flooded with some really god memories. Memories of craziness with friends and all kinds of good stuff. I didn't even have any nightmares last night - which is a first for the last year or so.
As Puma would say," You've got to put your behind in your past."
Wise words Pumba, Wise words ❤️
Natalie Imbruglia - Left of The Middle
"End of the third round
As I put the phone down
Chasing the same lines
Over the old ground
I'm pushing zero
Where is my hero
He's out there somewhere
Left of the middle
And your world falls down
And you're there calling out
But it's something I can't say
Though it seems the only way
But it's a game that I can't play
Not today
I got my ticket
And I got a straight road
But I'm passing the same signs
Over and over
And my world falls down
And I'm there calling out
But it's something I can't say
Though it seems the only way
But it's a game that I can't play
Not today
And my world falls down
And I'm there calling out
But it's something I can't say
Though it seems the only way
And it's a game that I can't play
Not today
I need to tell you
Trying to get through
It's not always easy
Left of the middle"