Forget the bus that hits you, I'm stuck at the trailer bashing after that!!!

Talked to a friend last night and realised that this must be the one ultimate life lesson we get taught over and over again. That when the bus finally hits you – and it does find you, the point is not the tiny details about what make of bus it was or who the driver was and what colour seats it had. The point is when, how and what.

Let me explain:

First ask when: when will I contemplate getting up?

See, as much as at that moment it feels like planning when to get up is the least of our worries, sooner or later it has got to happen. More importantly though is the fact that only you can decide when to do it. So, while you spend the sleepless nights and bucket loads of tears while down there, keep in mind that sooner or later, you have got to get up.

Note to self: remember this when my next bus comes along.

Then ask how: How do I do this getting up thing?

Truth be told, there are just those buses that leave you so “hit” that you forget which side your feet are and where to start when wanting to lift your head. There are times when that bus just leaves us so tangled up that getting up becomes a long process that can also very easily find you right back on your butt again all too soon.

AGAIN, fact still remains that it has got to happen.

What I like though about this getting up process is that you now get to decide how straight up you want to stand this time around and while initially the feeling would be not to take it too far – in case you have to kneel and duck the next bus –but you can stand straighter then before. In fact, sometimes when the fall has been really hard, some people choose to take a different path road all together just so they can encounter new buses. And then you get the suckers who believe this path still has a bit more good times to offer – either way – you will eventually have stood up!

(Writing this question has my mind thinking of all the people around you who will seem to have the answers on how to do this *pointing a finger at myself since I tend to fall pray to this too*. But it also leads me to wonder if someone can really help you get up… *thinking* the way I see it, since this was your bus, you should be the one that will decide not only when to get up but more importantly HOW to get up.)

Then finally, we get to what: what has this bus left me with and what lessons have I learned.

It’s true that some scares from the bus bashing may never really heal. It’s true too that even if the surface scares do disappear (cue bio oil) fact is the inner pains may come to visit on rainy days and colder weather. But I would like to think that one of the things that should happen at this point will be getting to know your capabilities a bit more and knowing what could trigger the painful cringe when the wound is unintentionally touched or the weather does get colder. Remember – we are over the tears so let that not be an option.

Also, its good to get to the part where you reflect on what the bus has taught you so you can better dodge it the next time. If you know that walking on the right hand side of the road leads to on coming buses hitting you point blank, then hell – stay away from that side or even use the damn side walk next time.

All the above seems all well and wise but now I'm left with a question bigger and maybe even more lethal then the bus: WHAT HAPPENS IF THE BUS HAD A TRAILER AND THE DAMN TRAILER GOT LEFT ON TOP OF YOU CLEARLY MAKING GETTING UP IMPOSSIBLE? Am I allowed to call out now?

Ms Independent for protection

It’s the dependence we have in other people that has left so much to be desired. See, as the dependence grew, so did the terrible trend to disappoint. This, loving readers, is not something that came by chance but as a result of lost ways and confused trends.

Everybody – say “HI” to independence!

This tiny reality has been labelled as bad. It has been called terrible names and discussions have been held on why it should be killed. At yet another tired speech of the reasons why it should go, I cant help but wonder how much HE’s impact has been towards keeping it around.

(Please note that ‘HE’ does refer to a guy known to me and this comes from actual recent happenings – if you figure out who you are Mr HE, then congratulations for being an inspiration to yet another post!)

HE carries on passionately describing what independence has done wrong and how HE can fix it. (Mr Fix-it-all I silently add, while shacking my head knowing I can’t be seen).

Independence I believe, steams from the realization that no one can do it better for you then YOU. We come from a place where we women have been taught to wait for the men to bring it home. Wait for the men to give permission. Wait for the men to give us. Wait for the men to proudly afford us the kind of things that we have come to love. While this has worked really well in generations past, our generation at one point was left waiting for way too long when it finally decided to stand up and go get it themselves.

I am a practiser of independence and I can’t help but say that with pride. Careful tho – this does not mean that you should be pulling out your check lists of all the things that are wrong about me based on this statement. I do independence because it is my protection shield.

See, for a while, I did follow the trend (cause personally I do believe our mother’s generation still had the right idea on relations), but it came with the sad realization of just how much things have changed. I have heard the lines and I have seen the betrayal. Gone are the days when your word stayed your word till you saw it through. Nowadays, its all about ‘getting-my-own-at-any-cost’ and sadly it has left a lot to be desired for. And so admitting to the defeat of trying to hold on to a past trend, I join the masses. Not in word, but in deed.

I'm frowned upon tho (mostly by the other HE’s of our generations) and I am taken advantage of sometimes when I let my guard down.

The frowners can’t understand why I just don’t keep my place as a Christian woman. To them I ask: and what do I do in the mean time while I hope and plead HE to get his act together? While I wish that this man will finally provide what I need while I also make a pledge to do so (cause I know I'm willing)? What do I do with my emotions while HE refuses to recognise them and respect them? what do I do with this commitment that I have nurtured for so long for his sake while he picks and chooses who is prettier between me and the lady next to me in line?

The advantage-takers dance around me spinning words they hope will trap me. See, their game plan is to come enjoy the comforts I have built myself and when they have become fattened by them, trample on this heart that I sincerely gave and laugh at the devotion I honestly promised and shared while they were too busy eyeing the next me. To them I say: enjoy is while it lasts because when I do finally catch you out, don’t expect me to be clinging on you like God’s gift. I got here on my own and I most certainly will carry on just the same.

Sure, a better version of HE (called HIM) may be out there and he could be working on gathering enough for both of us to give to me too but until then – my independence continues to bring me joy. The things I own, the relations I keep and more importantly, the spirituality I continue to build are mine and I got them all by myself…
When HIM does come along and does prove to be genuine, then i will gladly hang up my Ms Independent hat and high heels and stick closely to my mom to teach me the ropes only like her generation did it. HIM will have a wife waiting at home for him to give. this wife will do so with a smile and a new tune to sing while she prepares the bacon he brought! (lol)

For now: HE carries on on how he is fully capable of giving and how HE thinks Ms Independent is wild and untamed and uncultured to want to get it herself. And after I have waited so long for him to bring it home and give it, I finally decide to hang up the phone and go get it myself. Seems like HE spent way too much time talking about it and beating his chest on proud talk that he missed all the times that I held out my hands – just waiting for him to give me…. Now I go get it – MYSELF!

Shall we throw HE into the advantage taker’s bin?

The box where its all kept.

It’s the damn days when the sun won’t just come out that get to me. It’s the times when I, the girl who seems to have it all planed and knows exactly where and how she wants it, cant for the life of me manage to get a single sentence said or a single word written.


These are the days when my wounds do bleed and the scars start to show again. It seems to me that regardless of how much I pack it up and shove it to the back of a dark closet, some light does still seem to fall on it from time to time. As I peer in again into this livid box, I see traces of where these new habits come from. With that though comes the reminder of a sad yet essential reality…

Girl-On-Top should not be leaning on this shaky wall.

I opened my eyes this morning and I had a plan in mind. Today would be a good day and I would get things done. I somehow managed to fall asleep with the phone near me… ahh reminder of another broken promise comes to mind… the call that was promised but never came. But that will not bother me today… I have a plan remember? Yet as awake time carried on, my plan fell apart and all I was left with was this damn box that seemed to show up again – even when I had made sure it was pushed far back this time!

My day was bad. It all seemed like that box had crept into my handbag this morning or had followed me to work. I messed up things and I lost documents. I had breathless moments and no amount of good music seemed to calm it. A good friend says I should swallow my pride and call in for help. Help? Girl-On-Top does not call in for help! Hell I can help myself… 11am and things carry on down hill. Maybe I should swallow this pride and just do as I was told… grab phone. Write it out. Options. Send… *deep breath* there, I have done it…

One hour later… nothing

Two hours (hold my breath and look at my phone screen)… nothing

Two and a half hours later… no beep…

Wait…. Here it comes… *smile*

I opened up the inbox and this damn box sprung open and I lost all hope of closing it – ever!

This is a box with all my issues laid bare. In this box are stories and events that saw me on my floor after failed wrestlings with attempts to get them sorted. This box is where all the bitterness and anger and “I told you so’s” lie. This is the box that carries lethal combinations of things that got me way near to the edge at one point and for some strange reason – this one sms managed to pull them all out again…

I started this post with hopes that I would lay them bare here. That I would have a go at them here yet at quarter-past-way-past-my-bed-time, I get comfortable on this floor that I had managed to avoid for a very long time. Habit is here too. He brought wine. As he fills my glass - again – I smile at this old friend and start telling him a story of how I at some stage tried to hide him in a box at the back of my closet. He laughs, smiles and asks me questions about this damn wall I tried to lean against.

I guess this means that the issues will have to wait till I have become well acquainted with Habit again. Tonight… tonight I do things differently. I switch off the phone to block the wall that should have come through for me a whole 8 hours ago. I climb into bed with habit and fall asleep in the arms of the demon I know and have secretly come to love too.

“its good to have you around tonight habit…” I whisper as I drift asleep in to a dream with no expectations in the morning…

Happly ever after is not real...

Letter:
                                                          Dear_____________
Wow where do I start…

As strange as it may seem but I believe in fairy tales… or at least I used to.

To me what has always made sense was the idea of happily ever after, you know the guy meets girl and falls madly in love with her. He shows her, as impossible as it may sometimes seem - that they belong together. She agrees and they live happily ever after.

Now I have let that idea go with me through life and it has helped me stand up and dust myself off and try again every time when I have had my heart broken. I say it may seem strange, because to many, something like that is impossible. In the tale, the man goes to all lengths for the woman who he loves and he falls in love with every little thing that makes her up. He loves the way she smiles and the way that she looks when she is upset. He falls for the way she gets so worked up over the smallest of things or the way that she cracks up at the most stupid yet insignificant of things. He loves the way she calls him like 10 times a day and never gets tired of it. When she is unhappy he becomes unhappy and when she cries he is always there to hold her tight and tell her that everything will be ok even though to him it may be so clear that they won’t. Life without her is an impossible something to him because he realizes that she forms such a huge part of his life to the extent that without her, he just isn’t. When she says “I love you” everything in his world is ok.

Many have said that something like that is simply what it is meant to be – a fairy tale that will never come true…

… Sadly I am beginning to see what they mean and it hurts.

I’m tired of dusting myself off because my dress has simply gotten too dirty for me to still hold my head up and carry on with no hint of bitterness.

I look back on the last couple of months and I notice how they have been so enveloped around this one man. I thought I liked him but that is simply an under statement. I fell in love.

When we turn bitter, it simply means that we hold on to this one bad experience and even though we may say that we are over it, we really are not. From that point onwards what ever happens along the same line will always be graded on this one experience and no one ever is able to change that. I used to feel so sorry for woman who let things get to that stage yet… I sit here today and I have let the very same thing happen to me. I have finally turned bitter towards men and I doubt if it will be changed or should I rather say – I doubt if I will ever allow anybody to change that.

I woke up this morning and I had this fantasy running in my head where a guy who has been seeing me from a distance for a while now finally approaches me and lays it all out in the open. He tells me from the get go that he thinks I’m amazing and that he now has gathered up enough courage to come up to me and talk to me. He says he wants to get to know me better. I smile. And he says that smile is something he has seen so many times and he has lost count of how many times he has prayed that I will flash him that smile one day…..

Reality hit and I remembered that I have sworn off men for life.

So here is a fairy tale situation that automatically played in my head and here is my heart screaming ENOUGH with a loud speaker.

Looking down at my worn, dirty dress (from all the falling and dusting off) and thinking of how difficult it is for me to find, pick up and put together the pieces of my shattered heart, I unfortunately now finally give up on my idea of a happily ever after and join the masses in saying…

Fairy Tales do not exist…

Signed: a member of the real world

Lets try this again...

so how many times have you fallen and stood up?

sitting in a heap on my bed room floor, i ask this question with the aim of wanting to know how many times i will have to do this again. it seems to me like regardless of how many times we all trip, scream and try to hold on before the loud crashing fall, we always manage to at some point stand up again. EVERYTIME. true for some people it could take a couple of years but with time, it eventually happens.

while on the floor, looking for some grip to help pull me up, i wonder too about my stumbling blocks - the ones that always manage to trip me and i realize, they all form part of the same huge stone. i laugh at the discovery and think like those heros in the lame movies... "to finally rid myself of the falling reflex, i need to get to he source and destroy it forever" (queue the triamphet music and a ray of sun light on the hero's face).
"finally rid myself"... the words echo in my mind while the answer dances around in my head... Answer?
NEVER!!!

see, my stumbling block is not one that can be pushed aside at will or even taken on when feelings of self pity pop around for tea. my block does not stand around like a misplaced object in the middle of a room wondering if it shall get moved. my block, strangly, is not huge and ugly and a mess. No, my stumbling block is  part of me. it comes in a shade that works well with my life decore and hell most of the time it can be passed off as part of the room. my block is small yet powerfull. it screams independence and demands attention... its proud and classic and well is sometimes envied... See MY block is a part of me - an essential part of me.

(i suppose this could explain why my bedroom carpert has become a good place to rest for ever so often i find myself there when my block rears its dominating head)

New plan of action.... I NEED A NEW PLAN OF ACTION before i stand up again so that we could make sure that this time, im up there for a bit longer.
"mmmm bueatifully painted stumbling block... oh how do i get rid of you or atleast make you smaller...??"
*thinking*

Starting to feel a little numb from the hard cold floor, i decide to stand up and leave the "To make stumbling block smaller" plan for another day. i decide to enjoy the stand up and the time i spend up there a bit more before the great war with BLOCK starts again...
untill then... the feeling in side is: IM UP! IM UP! shall we try this again...

signed
GoT