A Fathers Letter

Its been a while since I put keyboard to blog and I suppose I needed an inspiration or desire to one again share whats on my heart.
This is a letter from myself to one of my daughters who is really going through a rough time and has been for a while now, I hope it will somehow put a smile on her face and let her know how much I love here even though I don't get to see her much. Perhaps it is also meant for someone else out there who feels the same way.

Hello my angel,

Firstly let me tell you that I love you, I have loved you since the first day I held you and when I think of you it makes me smile from my soul. I am battling to see the screen as I type this because, well my eyes have entered a leaking mode and I have a lump in my throat.

When you were born I never for one moment imagined what would happen to you and your sister, having to go through a divorce, changing schools, losing your home and trying to keep control of your little world as it slowly crumbled and collapsed around you. There were times when I know you cried yourself to sleep and wondered what you had done to deserve this, the answer is nothing. It was not your fault that your Mom and I parted ways, it was not your fault that you were and still are blamed for being "like your father" even though you are a thousand times the person I will ever be. You have seen so much and experienced both sides of family life, the one where it all works and the one where its a place where you just want to scream and rage against the world, I understand when you put in your earphones and just block out the world and I understand when your eyes swell with tears as you struggle to comprehend how trust, promises and love are smashed like a red wine glass falling on a tile floor. The wine that sprays in every direction is like your heart and you try desperately to clutch and grab it to stop the pain.

What has happened to you is what is supposed to happen to other people, not you and the way it has affected your health is understandable as your system struggled to survive and recover. It doesn't make it right or fair.
When I see you sobbing as we video chat I am both overcome with sadness and at the same time love, the fact that you are able to share your pain and vulnerability as well as your joy and craziness makes me proud to be your Dad.

You have a sensitive soul and a spirit that touches peoples lives and makes them smile, when you explode into a room  it's like trying to wash a wriggling puppy, everybody gets wet. You have a gift, a talent so rare that those who know you and pass through your life always remember you for your smile, laughter and compassion. So how do I fix it, well in truth I don't. I can simply walk beside you and allow you to lean on me and even carry you when it gets really bad, I can comfort you when you don't want to talk and listen when you do.
If I could simply insert a memory stick into you, download all your pain and sorrow and transfer it to myself I would, but it is a part of the amazing person you are and it has enabled you to not only grow stronger, but help so many around you.

Its never easy when those you love and trust turn on you and hurt you, its the attacks we never expect that do the most damage because we don't ever imagine it would happen.

Here is what I know;

• You are growing up into an amazing lady
• You have lots of people who appreciate you, love you and are blessed by you
• Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain
• Your capacity to love is far greater than you have ever imagined
• God loves you just the way you are because that is how He created you

In closing, I want to thank you for helping me to see life in a different perspective, for accepting my craziness and sharing yours with me and most of all, for being who you are.

I will always love you and I miss you very much

Dad

Inner Peace & Screams

I used to be supple.

But that was a long time ago and when I did not have a belly that seemed to get in the way of everything and hinder my pursuit of graceful flowing stretching.
Hence I rose from my bed after charging my soul with a beer and a packet of chocolate speckled eggs and stood with my feet about a foot apart.
Gently shifting my weight from my centre to my right leg I swore as my foot immediately cramped, I moved back to my original pose and this time moved left, same result! A cramp in my left foot and the sharp pain caused me to relax to a point where an unexpected breeze escaped from my bottom. If it wasn't for the fact that I had to walk off the cramp I would have been deeply disappointed in myself.

At this moment I did not feel that I was portraying the image of a Zen master, the fact that I was clad in underpants and a Thor t-shirt and not a silk gown, along with the grunts and moans removed any air of beauty and majesty from the occasion.
I took a deep breath and tried again, this time with my arms moving like a swan shot in its wing, legs shaking and a grimace with eyes tightly closed, both feet cramped simultaneously and I tried standing on my toes as an experienced ballerina would, I simply lost my balance.

A normal man would have retired to his bed or couch and had another beer, I had neither a couch or any more beer and thus I persevered.
What followed was 3 minutes of peace and grace filled with silent screaming as my body rebelled and ached to the point where I bowed to honour the fat men who had tried and failed in a desperate attempt to find the 18 year old spirit inside their middle aged bodies.

The visions of every burger I had been enticed to devour in the name of survival floated before my eyes, every delicious silky smooth angel kissed sliver of Lindt that had been force fed to me and clutched to my hips, each cold ale that passed my lips and filled me with joy and laughter danced before me like maidens luring me with their worldly charms. My journey would require the strength of the father of a teenage daughter restraining himself from killing the smiling hormone filled potential sex offender who stood at his door asking for permission to escort his princess to a place where he would not have a clear shot at him with his sniper rifle.

My journey had just begun, and in the words of the wise man, " Have a break, have a Kit Kat", I paused and sank into my bed.

Nite All

Sunday in the Saddle

My Sunday began with a decision to head out early and tackle the road to Maseru, I left Masite Nek and as I left the cocoon of safety and  fortitude of a pain free bottom I realised that this was my first cycle on my own.

Co-rider one was asleep, grumpy and not a morning person and co-rider two decided that visiting his wife in South Africa was more important than dodging taxis on a Sunday morning. This would be my fourth ride of the week and I a step closer to emulating Lance Armstrong, I had a yellow t-shirt on, baggies, drugs in the form of blood pressure meds and happy pills and a hint of Jack Daniels in my system from the night before.

It is important that you understand that I am not some fitness freak who can hop out of bed, run 16km, cycle 24km and then pop a Berocca C and bounce through the day with a smile on my face. I could theoretically pass out if I jumped out of bed, rushing to breakfast leaves me a little flustered and jogging doesn't agree with my rugby destroyed knees or reconstructed right ankle.

I swung onto the main road, and within no time at all was being greeted my shepherds as they tended sheep, goats and cattle, in Lesotho children that are unable to attend school have the option of becoming shepherds, so its not unusual to see a 9 year old in the field tending his flock.
My admin hardened hands were taken a severe beating from the rubber grips of the handlebar, it was as if I had been entrusted with the task of removing all the skin off my palms while my backside bounced on the rocklike seat like Bo Derek bouncing assets in the running scene from the movie "10".

The Lesotho taxi-drivers are more mellowed than their South African counterparts and will hoot and give you additional space if required, this country grows on you more and more each passing month.
I am now finding that with no previous experience and not having the luxury of an experienced rider with me, it is simply a case of get on, get on with it and get back alive. There is no plan of action, its survive till it hurts, dont cry in front of the cheering locals and don't swear out loud, the swearing is pretty safe as I am unable to do much when gasping for air and my throat as dry as forgotten piece of wors on a braai.

This would be my first ride where I didn't dismount and have to walk, even if it killed me. I was crawling home, with wobbly legs, collapsed lungs, bleeding hands and a huge blister of pain where my bottom was meant to be. I turned the corner and the final 200m lay before me and then it was over.

6km or 6000m lay behind me. I was a superstar!

Frosty Bits

I am cold, colder than the heart of a divorce lawyer or a cat who is ignoring you.

There was snow and I am not in favour of it. It is just a pre-requisite for mud and has the potential of ice on steps. Now this led to a knock on my door at 21h00 on Saturday night as one of my work colleagues fell up a flight of stairs. After pointing and an initial spurt of acceptable mocking, I did what any neighbour would do, I gave him 4 Disney character plasters. The look of utter disgust was priceless and I had to stop myself from giving him a peck on the cheek.

Life on site has entered a routine and the advent of a week of sub zero temperatures and snow has certainly cast a little disconcertment amongst us all, almost like a huge rump steak in the company of vegetarians. Please don't get me wrong, I once knew of a girl who heard a tale of her distant aunt's twin daughter-in-laws roommate who bumped into a vegetarian at an anti-prenuptial rally in some distant American State.

I bought a pair of longjohns this weekend and am now in need of thermal underwear before it reaches the stage where a vasectomy is no longer required and I will be left with nothing to scratch when I awaken in the morning. Pre-waking needs for bladder visits to the loo have now become instances of dash and slash with the acute possibility of a splash.

So into the cold frosty yonder I venture until we next cross paths

Nite All

Sundays, Cycling & Death

Sunday nights are the pits.

I am in darkest Africa and am currently camera-less, work is getting busy, but like all projects away from home the weekends are long. I am not a sociable drinker so clinging onto a bar counter like a three year old holding onto his penis is not really my thing.
My Mom and sister have knitted some teddy bears, scarves and beanies for the kids in Lesotho so this weekend they will be delivered, how my Mom manages this while looking after my Dad with advanced Parkinsons is indeed astounding. I am alone and I barely manage to look after myself, in fact if my bottom wasn't connected to my body, I am sure I would have misplaced it by now.

I have come to realise that my girls are at an age where they need their parents less and less and are becoming independant little adults. I think it is harder for a Dad to accept as they are always going to be my little angels, I mean that's why I have the chloroform, cable ties, baseball bat and hacksaw or as I prefer to call it, my "Dexter Welcoming Kit". When I am having a bad day or feeling lonely, I think of my girls or try and make contact with a friend back in SA, sometimes I find someone to chat to and sometimes they are able to chat, so I need a cuddle buddy and a chat buddy. Should you wish to apply for any of the positions, please mail me on tedlodewijks@gmail.com and I will respond accordingly, tequila or milkshakes will be supplied.



I am also considering aquiring a bicycle, my concerns are that I will be able to walk, sit or get out of the bath after my first cycle, as I am living with 15 guys I would also rather die naked in the bath than have them rescue me. So the cos by far outweigh the pros at this stage, also whoever designed cycling kit must have been more in touch with his happy side than Elton John after a couple of strawberry daquiris. And for the record guys, any drink that has an umbrella, fruit or needs to be drunk through a straw is meant for the ladies, just saying.

On that extremely biased note, I must leave you and head into a 3 hour meeting.

Nite all

Love Hurts

I wonder what caused women to begin the neverending and sometimes thankless task of pruning themselves and driving men crazy?

I mean manicures, pedicaures, botox and implants and make up that costs enough to feed a small town in outer Mongoli, and that excludes the fashion sense. Now now gentlemen, we are just as guilty and those that are not are more than likely in a long standing relationship or marriage and their partners have simply given up on them.

My journey into the Gentle Art of Beautification began when I first realised that there were creatures who lived amongst us that did not wrestle for an oblong leather ball and partake of such rituals as burping national anthems and lighting methane bursts. They were smaller, smelled different and hung around in gangs that either ignored or giggled at you. Thus began my first trip into my Dads wardrobe and I discovered the world of Old Spice and Blue Stratus, firmly believing that too much was better than too little, I could be smelled from a mile away.

My amazement was complete when I observed that not all the young ladies threw themselves at me and admired my aftershave ridden body, this I came to know as playing "Hard to Get".

But from humble beginnings I progressed to higher levels of pruning like a gaming junkie. Cut my toe nails and finger nails and didnt use them as toothpicks, had regular hair cuts and discovered shower gel.

Following my divorce, I had my first manicure and pedicure and enjoyed the relaxing pampering I received, lo and behold I found I was still straight and that these experiences had not turned me into a gay man instantly.

And then it started to get a little more intense. Nicole my daughter my 13 year old angel convinced me to shave my chest!!!!!! I did so without removing my nipples and for a week I was so itchy that I wanted to rip my shirt off and pound my naked chest like King Kong. That has now been forgotten and the hair returneth.

But was that enough?

No of course not.

I heard of the term "manscaping" where one basically trims the hair down under and provides a better, less primitive attraction for purposes of this blog. I decided to approach the area concerned with a beard trimmer and with the vigour of a puppy charging a porcupine.

I gasped, hesitated and at the first sight of blood dropped the Remington butchering device and crossed my legs. This action was supposed to remove the sudden stinging pain that came from cut treasures.
DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!!!

The bath that followed and the 2 days of anxious walking and carefull sitting was a rude reminder that some actions need to be left to professionals.
My now scarred and tender manscaped adventure has to end for now.

Nite All

Second Chances

You have two options in life, do it or think about it and never do anything about it.

Doing it results in yourself being open to hurt, rejected or elation and adventure. So what will you do?

I tried to play by the recognised timelines and theology that time heals all pain and the best will be rejuvenated and possibly even superseded, I waited because initially I was incapable of giving and would have ventured into areas I had no concept of knowing how to deal with.

Let me explain.

When I first realised that I no longer loved my ex which was about a year after the divorce, I had two huge dilemmas to overcome. The first was that I had loved her for so long after the divorce and secondly whether I was ever able to love again. Love doesn't die overnight, it fades and slowly wilts like a flower deprived of water or a dead fish hidden under the couch of someone who did you wrong. When the realisation dawns that it is dead, you either live with the shrivelled memory or you replace it with a better memory, aalmost like brushing your teeth after eating a brussel sprout covered in chocolate.

It is hard to lose faith in something, be it God, life, love or happiness and resign yourself to accepting the alternative as your new standard. God never left me, He simply needed me to stop shouting long enough to get a word in and that whisper was enough. Life means getting up no matter how difficult and soul destroying the day ahead seems and somehow facing it despite the consequences.

Love, well the harsh reality is that it may take a lot of failed dates before you find someone who will accept you as you are, you might still be looking and even reach a stage where you say "Enough".

My plea is simply to keep looking and take that chance.

Why? Because a day of smiles and laughter is worth a month of pain.

Because sunlight after a week or month of rain brings smiles and happiness.

Because you deserve better, a new chance, hope and a reason to fall asleep with a smile on your face.

Nite All

Depression Logic

I have not written because I believed I was stronger than I am.

My error was a simple one and not one taken on a logical train of thought. Like a river that starts in a high snowcapped mountain, it seemed well adjusted and containable at first. Then someone brought out the sun and the floodgates opened.

Hi, my name is Ted and I need anti-depressants.
I have taken a long time to accept this as a medical condition and not a sign of weakness.

I stopped and decided "cold turkey" was the best way to go. I didn't expect the headaches, nor the irritation and sudden mood swings which came about when tired. I am exhausted, battling to get up in the morning and smiling has become really hard. The withdrawals can apparently be for as long as 2 to 6 months.


Responses to my actions included "You did what", "what the hell were you thinking" and "now that was clever".

My plea is a simple one, do not treat depression lightly. Do not see it as a weakness, but rather in line with high blood pressure or high cholestrol. It cannot be ignored. See a medical practioner and don't be as foolish as I have been.

Nite All.

Karma Says . . .

Dear Ted,

Thank you for your letter and enquiries, I thought it better to respond as such and not in person. For reasons unknown to me, my presence seems to alarm folk.

1. There is no priority and my email system does not have a junk folder, but rather files the cases in order of Karma Retribution and Justice.
I do however hand pick 9 special cases a day for my pleasure and amusement.
2. There is no expiry date to the cases, however sometimes I leave it and see if the parties show any remorse. A 20 year wait is not unfamiliar at all. If no remorse is shown, I have been known to allow their children to provide more that adequate grey hairs for them. Patience is my middle name.

3. Repeat offenders or as I prefer to call them Repeaters, they are the special folk who are oblivious of the trails they leave behind them as they bulldoze through and over live. They bruise and hurt others along the way and the higher they seem to climb, the less the rules seem to apply to them. They are not as untouchable as they seem and when I let them believe they are immune to me, I often hurt them where it hurts the most, their loved ones.

4. Immunity is possible in all cases, but seldom occurs for the simple reason that humans are stubborn, selfish and stupid. They want to wash away the past and ignore their actions without any humility or forgiveness. Life simply doesn't work that way.

5. The Lotto is a brilliant idea and one I will certainly consider. Thank you.

Unfortunately Santa and I had words, he insists on a no-underwear policy and Mrs Claus has complained to me on numerous occasions of the problems she has in trying to save his trousers. He is indeed a smelly old man.

Remember Ted that there are no rules in my world and I strongly believe in the old remedy of an eye for an eye. Some call me cold hearted and others a bitch, I simply give what is due.

Regards
Karma

The Kids Part 2

So much has changed in the past 2 years and yet there are still some consistencies, I am stronger, tougher and in the eyes of some harder.

But what hasn't changed is the lump in my throat as Simon stands in the driveway and waves goodbye to me and won't leave till I have gone.
What hasn't changed is that I battle to drive home and am unable to stop thinking about my girls.
Also the fact that we seldom speak on the way to their Moms house as we are all dealing with our own thoughts and processing them.

Even in a divorce where the needs and cares of the children are catered for, the upheaval from one parents home to another is tough for them.

My home is as quieter than the Clintons home when Monica's name is mentioned.

Kids are like avo trees grown in your lounge, protected yet still in need of love, nutrition and warmth. Our kids will radiate what we put in, treat them with respect and love, listen when they talk and encourage them to do their best.
Isn't it sad to see so many teenagers unable to chat to their parents because the folks are too busy, too irritable, too tired. Then we wonder why when the parents get older, they never see the kids when they leave home.

To be told that there is no-one or nothing in the world that you would be swopped with means more than everything else in the world.

Nite All

The Kids Part 1

As a kid in a divorce, I wonder where their loyalties lie? A family, torn apart by divorce, parents storming off in opposite directions and the kids standing shell struck and confused.

Imagine waking up one morning and instead of being in your home, you find yourself in a hotel room.

Instead of being able to run into your parents room and jumping into their bed for a snuggle, you don't know where you are. The rules have changed and nobody has explained them to you, your parents have changed and you are surrounded by tears and pain.

If a new partner is involved with one of your parents, you don't know how to address them or where they actually fit into your world.

Invariably a move to a new home is involved, the parents are involved with divorce negotiations and there are lots of emotions up in the air including anger, depression and trust issues. And somewhere in between this circus of madness, they need to "cope", go to school and act normally.

Good grief we expect a lot from them!

Nite All

Fade to Black

Have you noticed the effect of a pebble in a still pond as it first shatters the peace and serenity and then branches out in a tsunami type effect?
It is very similar to glass shattering or a watermelon exploding.

So then we move surreptitiously onto the subject of the human heart and not justs capacity to pump blood to all corners of the body but also harbours another!
What pray does it hold kind Sir?
It is the container that holds the measure of our love and when it is bulging it can contain unmentional amount of this affection.

But when it breaks, it is as if a cork has been pulled from a bottle of champagne and it is shooting against the ceiling.

So why fade to black? Well, it seems that when it starts getting dark, it does indeed get black.

"There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and
The light that you shine can be seen."
SEAL - Kiss from a Rose

So it is time to learn, maybe time to lean and time to move ahead, onwards.

Nite all

The Nite Before Easter

Easter has come and gone and it was spent with my girls. That should be all I have to say.

Nite all

Ok, you need more body to the blog so here goes.
Twas the night before Easter and all was still, gentle rain caressed the earth and a slight chill filled the air.

The father and daughters were watching television and oblivious to the threat that lurked in the room next to them.

When they least expected it, darkness struck and absorbed all the light. A gasp escaped the lips of the girls and their eyes widened, a mild panic set in.

All they had were candles, food for a week and chocolate bunnies, these were grim times indeed.
We interrupt this transmission for a word from our sponsors, ACNE (African Candle Natural Exporters) where candles can be spotted everywhere.

In truth it is Easter that I first discovered my partner for 23 years loved another and this occurred 2 years ago. I have been dreading this Easter and unknowingly have built myself up into a state about it all. I shared with D and C and they helped me put it all into perspective and calmed me down.

I cannot go through life ignoring certain periods because of the past, I have to confront them the same way a Dad faces a babies leaking nappy for the first time. You don't have to like it but you have to deal with it.

There is no quick fix, there is no "get out of jail free" card, there is life and it comes with baggage and joy and laughter and pain.

So in short, The Nitemare Before Easter has been renamed "The Nite before Easter"

Bless you

Nite All

Cold Turkey

Love is a drug.

It is the morphine that sometimes binds relationships and keeps couples together. It can be positive and strengthen you and enable to endure tough times easier or it can become an addiction that slowly destroys one or both of you and leaves you no more than a shadow of your present self.

I have not recovered from my addiction yet and as such I have days where I cope brilliantly and others where I am dragged to the edge of hell and must cling on till it wears off. I cannot predict when it will come, it is pretty much like a distant relative that you fear who arrives unexpectedly and then stays till they decide it is time to move on. I cannot simply erase it or ignore it for it must run its course and only time and God can heal it.

Add to this recipe of rehab the sudden removal of Coke Light and a litre of Oros a day, sugar, the reduction of chemicals, addition of nutrients and a change in diet and you have the makings of the Amy Winehouse classic hit.

Emotionally I am beyond weary and somehow hope I can supply my precious daughters with all they require from me. I am too tired to cry and find myself wanting to hide in a corner on a bad day.
Do not misunderstand me, I am a far different man from the man in the mirror last year.

And my addiction, well it has to be faced and I thank you for helping and encouraging me, you have no idea what a difference it makes having friends that journey with you. But now it is once more time to dream and who knows where that journey will take me tonight.

Good nite all

Emotional Rescue

There are numerous aspects of life that seem to have changed radically for me since my divorce, perhaps the one I have battled the most with are my emotions.

They used to be extremely well buried and tucked away thank you very much, however counselling, reality and a zeal to be a better person have forced me to face them head on. It was alarming to say the least to feel profuse anger and emotional pain equivalent to hitting your thumb with a hammer. My eyes watered, I tried to hold in the pain but to now avail. I did what my mother often did, I questioned my sanity and felt as if the entire world was observing me through a microscope. I tried putting on a Tiger Woods face and almost believed I had fooled my friends, I hadn't but they humoured me and played along. All with the exception of one who took me by the scruff of my emotional neck and shook me silly. Sometimes tough love means the kick in the lower regions is required to make us sit up and squeak back to reality.

I fear emotions because I cannot control them and there lies a potential flood that could release itself and embarrass me. I am a man, a physical man, I went to the army and played rugby dammit. Before Brokeback Mountain all cowboys were John Wayne and Clint Eastwood and pain was dealt out not experienced.

I was wrong. I was a fool. I apologise and ask for forgiveness for those I offended or hurt.

My lesson came at a price, huge for me yet something that is turning out to be the most amazing blessing so far in my life. I feel life, sense it and am able to be vulnerable to it. I am afforded the opportunity to see my girls as little woman and not just my daughters, I respect that others have opinions and sometimes I need to shut up.

Now is one of those times.

Good Nite all.

Gastronomical Gloom

Good grief it was hot today, I had a green apple at 10h00 and found it very unappetising without cinnamon, lovely baked crust and cream. Apparently this raw fruit thing is quite popular, tastes unbaked and in desperate need of sugar to me.

Then the temperature hit 32'c and despite the aircon, melting was prone to set in. I had bottled bubbly water, Coke Light, coffee and none quenched my thirst for lunch. I had awoken this morning and made myself a salad, yup my gastronomic life was heading for social suicide.

I have made a decision after a run in with a large rude mirror that I needed to shed the equivalent of a small child in body mass. Removed from my life was my passionate attraction to pizza, cheeseburgers, crumbed pork chops, beer, oh sweet juice of the gods and nectar of mother nature. I was going through my second divorce, one that I had to instigate, follow through on and where I was the guilt party. It was a burden that would weigh me down before I could lose this load.

It was a desert of salad, steamed vegetables and tuna. And this compulsion people have with water, when I last looked this what we put into cars radiators and toilets! No wonder you lose weight when you drink it.

Dieting is like kissing a mannequin I would presume, devoid of passion, life and pleasure. It would be so much easier with hot baked bread smothered in melting butter and a tick slice of strong mature cheese on it. But alas I must depart for my tomatoes and cucumber and oh so crispy lettuce beckons.

Farewell Friends

Hope

I was asked if I was bitter about what had happened to my marriage and my answer was no. Angry, upset, yes but not bitter. My feeling is that we do get second chances in life and I want to be able to jump in with the full confidence of a carrot hopping into shark infested waters.

Regrets of course, I was asked by my girls if I ever regretted having them and I emphatically told them they were a blessing beyond life, they are my oxygen.

So why do I say this, well I have reached the next stage in my recovery and have faced a hurdle this week I have tried to avoid and silence for 5 years. Financial forgiveness, restoring some humanity to a series of bad decisions and greed riddled ventures. I screwed up and have been punishing myself for a long time now, I tried everything and failed.

A fresh start, like divorce it is not the end of life as we know it, but a stepping stone to something better, a chance to take what we had and do it better next time around. Yes I would like to love again and be loved again. When? I don't know. When the time is right whenever that is.
What I have now is nice, two adoring daughters that fill my life with a combination of joy, laughter, frustration and love. Our home is warm and we embrace the hard times with the laughter and honesty and when we lock heads we attempt to do it in a manner that doesn't break down the other person.

I have hope and that doesn't mean I have no concerns, I bob up and down like a raisin in a champagne glass. I over-think things till I cannot sleep, but I try and get that smile out when I would rather curl up and hide. If all else fails, I have a circle of friends who encourage, intrude and sometimes even threaten and that makes it all a whole lot easier.

My bed awaits and I must rest before the urge to exercise is forced upon me like a brussel sprout kebab.

Nite all

Friends in Need

Life a certain way of hurting you, letting you get back on your feet and then crushing you. When your chest tightens, you have a lump in your throat and the tears are waiting in the corner of your eyes. I don't want this but it is not about me, its about two dear friends one has been told she has terminal cancer and not long to live and the other is her husband. My dear dear friends, I am so sad and have no idea what to do, I would like to run away and just pretend I didn't hear it. I would easily take the cowards choice.

Tomorrow I have to go see him and hopefully her too and somehow try and keep it all together or not. I am crying as I write this and I know he is hurting so badly. How must she feel to know it is almost done?

I imagine he has shrunk under the strain and I want to hug him and hold him as he cries. Or is it that I want him to hold me as I cry.

Love is so special and can give so much, but when it takes it rips and tears and leaves holes where it used to be. Love is an angry woman committing a crime of passion, nothing is spared as she strikes at all in her proximity.

There is no dignity in pain, in sorrow, in illness. It is real and raw and ruthless.

I cannot continue tonight, I must see my friends and touch them and somehow offer to share this burden.

Nite

Flattened

It has not been one of my better weekends. I felt it coming and did what most stubborn men would do, I powered on through thinking that this would be the end of it. It appears I was mistaken.

Friday arrived with my girls and I chilling and watching a couple of episodes of "The Mentalist" and having a slap together supper of leftovers and fresh rolls. So far so good.

What I had failed to mention was that i had been feeling a little tender earlier in the evening and should have sufficed with some toast or a bland supper instead of the butter roasted chicken with cheese, mayonnaise and lettuce. Common sense would have agreed with you.

All was well till about 23H00 that evening when I heard rumblings of thunder and got up to check that the bedroom window was closed only to discover that the evening sky was clear. It was a storm brewing in my belly! I scrambled for the bathroom and made it in time, only just.

This continued for 24 hours and eventually my bottom would begin sobbing at the mere sight of a piece of toilet paper approaching it.

Cramps, explosions, sweat and Oros and pills passed through a haze of sleep, sprints and sighs of relief. My girls were wonderful and helped wherever they could and I emerged Sunday morning weak and professing to respect my body, my belly and avoid highly spiced food unless the challenge involved a fair maiden, a sports team or beer. That seems fair.

It was a reminder to me that we are not super-humans and we cannot keep burning the candle at both ends, something has to give. I need a hobby, something out of the flat, something to distract me and focus some me-time on. Any ideas?

I am almost recovered and like a well tuned machine running on 3 cylinders I splutter forth and anxiously await breakfast.

Good Nite All

Tomorrow

Is it ok to feel scared?
Am I allowed to say it out loud and even think of it?
Will I be branded a coward for admitting it?

I have written exams and passed, played competitive sport and won and lost, spent almost 3 years in the Army and been married, divorced and more. I have been retrenched more than once, held my sick child and told God that if He wanted to take her I would let her go.

I have failed in business and cooked and delivered the cooked food on a scooter to keep my family fed.

I am not proud of what I have done, I am grateful I am still standing. I have cried like a baby when it dawned on me that my marriage was dead, sobbed when I first saw my then still wife and my ex friend in my kitchen cooking and living where I used to belong.

I have slept on couches in friends homes because I had nowhere to go, lived with families who opened their hearts and lives to me.

I have longed as that which I loved was taken from me and I felt the raw pain like an operation without an anaesthetic.
Lost my dog, obedient to death as she breathed her last breath and died in my arms as I kneeled on the floor holding her and kissed her as I said goodbye.

I was denied access to my girls when they were upset with me and I could not get to them to try and explain my side of the story..

I have cried to God and begged Him to explain why this was all happening and wondering where the next blow would be coming from.

I have tried to be brave when all I wanted to do was to crawl up and die and I have felt like the biggest failure in the world.

And yet, through all of this character building nightmares I am still breathing , working and am now a single Dad. I am not capable or qualified for this role and act in the best way possible.

I hurt and have friends who hurt.
I sometimes have to live for tomorrow when today becomes too much.

Tonight I must sleep for tomorrow will bring its own challenges.

Good nite all