*Trigger warning - suicide
I'm supposed to be getting up to speed with the journey from there to here but life isn't actually linear and neither is learning as it turns out.
I sit and wonder how I'm going to tell this story some days.
On other days, I wonder whether telling this story honestly and in a way that might be worth sharing is even possible. Most days, I don't really want to tell this story because I'd prefer not to remember some of it. And, on all of these days, I know that it's not safe to tell some parts of this story yet.
And it may never be.
No Filter - 28 February 2023
Dealing with a new work situation, a family member who is struggling badly with addiction and trying to support my mom. Among other sh!t.
Lungs closed up again, am struggling to breathe and my lips have been blue again for two days. Also exhausted again.
No car to get Nathan to school next week and I can't walk the distances required to do this in this state. He returns this Friday and I'm trying to get well in time for his return.
Stress directly impacts the lungs.
I will be spending more time in isolation to minimize unnecessary stress for the next while.
"I can't take another hit." I said to someone, in a message, recently.
And I can't. Physically that is.
Mentally I am pretty unf*ckablewith now.
I'm not sure this is actually a good thing but it is, I know now, a necessary thing for a person like me in a world like this. And this only makes me sad for a short while these days before I shake it off and keep on moving forward...
or to the side and even a step or two backwards when I must.
Never stop the dance.
I've used many, many things in my time to keep on keeping on.
Most of you know about the alcohol and drugs at one stage.
I've also used rescuing people, food, sex and relationships at times. Work at other times. A Higher Power at one point. And then philosophy and psychology to try and make sense of things when I realised that all of those other things weren't going to work anyway.
I've looked for answers everywhere and some things, at times, have brought some peace of mind and heart. But happiness is never constant. It waxes and wanes and, I think, the seeking and craving of it is what actually makes it even more elusive and impermanent.
There is one thing, though, that has been with me on this journey we call life the whole way through.
Music.
In fact... if I created a soundtrack for my life the songs on it would clearly define what I was experiencing, who I was becoming or who I was trying to be at that specific time. And even hearing them now takes me back there, in an instant, in a way nothing else could.
I suspect this is the same for most of us sharing on #ThreeTuneTuesday (#ttt).
But music is more to me than this.
I've used music to keep myself alive at times.
I've used it to get myself out of bed, and to keep on going, during a year or more of such bleak depression that I'd wake up and weep at the thought of having to get through another day.
I'd open my eyes and realise it was morning, remember the situation I was in, pull the duvet over my head again and lie there sobbing...
unable to move.
The thing is, I had a young person to look after. To fight for. To protect.
There was no time to be depressed. And, honestly, if Nathan hadn't been in the picture there's no way I would've made it through either. I'd already made peace with the idea of ending it all myself because my dad had done this.
It makes it more acceptable for others to do it when someone close to them already has, you know.
I often wonder what the last thing was when I hear of another suicide. The final straw that broke the camel's back and pushed a person to take that leap.
A lot of it seems to be financial stress, sadly.
Most of it, I've heard.
If there is one thing that may stop a person making this decision, let it be that the children you leave behind will find it easier to do as well.
But if I had not had my son to stick around for...
Yes. I would have done it.
I went as far as to figure out how to do it and to source the items I'd need to pull it off successfully. Funny thing... I couldn't even afford one of them at the time.
Imagine that. Not being able to afford to kill yourself.
I came up with a less expensive solution instead.
Perhaps I'll find this funnier one day.
But there is no way I'd abandon a child to deal with this world on their own because I'm too f*cking scared to step up.
No way.
That's just not how I'm built.
He was sick though. My dad. It wasn't only about the money. He was also sick and in serious pain every day but he couldn't afford the treatment he needed to get well. His choice, at the end, was rational. To me anyway. Considering what he'd been enduring for so long.
The dismissal of him as a human being by business associates who once revered and stayed close to him. "Friends" as well. They say people will hate you for your success. I guess when you fall you can see this as clear as day.
The physical pain and challenges of chronic back pain. For a man who was extremely proud and independent this must have shamed and worn him down as well. It would anybody over time. I'm sure he was struggling with depression at the end of it. Who wouldn't be?
I suspect he did for some years but simply hid it well.
As people do.
He was highly intelligent and methodical, my dad.
He planned his exit for over a year. He planned it so efficiently, in fact, that somehow (and I still don't know how he pulled it off to this day), some kind of policy paid out within six weeks or so after his death.
A life insurance policy wouldn't do this, of course. Not in the event of suicide.
He organized this whatever to pay off a loan from his brother, a loan from the sh!thead partner who was actually responsible for the company being shut down, enough for his trophy wife to survive on if she invested it wisely, three relatively small inheritances (that he actually apologized for in his farewell letters to us, ffs)...
and wage packages for the factory workers up in Lesotho, who were abandoned because the institution closing down the company refused to pay them out.
He then took himself off to a small hotel at a favourite fishing spot, lay down in the bathtub so he wouldn't leave a mess and sent a final sms to his brother.
I still remember the exact wording to this day. Almost ten years later.
"I'm having a Nitrous Oxide party and you're my wingman.
Don't forget to play the Lotto."
And the address of the hotel.
No "boys will be boys" bullsh!t around here.
My Father was a Man to the bitter end.
Yeah. That was my Dad.
A hard act to follow.
It's why I'm still single and mostly have been as well.
That kind of honour, integrity and ethics is in short supply these days.
I knew he was going to do it, you know.
I knew it when he called me to drop off my documents at his office one day.
As I was leaving I turned back, made eye contact with him and said:
"I hope you're not going to do anything stupid."
He didn't say anything. He just smiled at me, looked back down at the papers all over his desk and began to shuffle through them again.
And so I left.
He also came to say goodbye to me about a week before he killed himself.
And I knew it then as well.
We were sh!tfaced on Tequila by 11.30am, however, and not much conscious communication happened that day.
But I knew.
We all knew.
All of us.
Human beings don't see what is in front of them most of the time.
Apologies.
We humans choose to not see what is in front of us at times.
This isn't a judgement on anyone.
This is simply an observation.
I was chronically ill for some years before the reality of my situation became an actual reality for me. And some days I still don't believe it myself.
I know full well how easy it is to "not see" things.
And why this is so.
And then I wrote a few paragraphs explaining this dynamic that I have to leave out because of this very same dynamic.
I can't share that part of the story because it's not safe and I can't take another hit, you see.
And even while I write this I know most people won't be able to really "see" or "hear" it. Because of their experience of who they think I am.
Or of who they expect me to be.
I start to wonder if writing is even worthwhile at times like this.
When the human experience is so disconnected and we so rarely understand what we're trying to say to each other anyway. I return to philosophy and the existential crisis but this time it's not so funny.
I joke about existentialism all of the time but, in all honesty, it's an inordinately lonely thing to truly observe. Because, for me anyway, it is a "truth".
I think most artists "see" this, by the way.
It's why they hide in shuttered rooms and drink themselves to death eventually. The pain of seeing things "as they truly are". But it also makes for the most authentic expression when they manage to put it into words. Or music. Or lines and splashes on a page.
Perhaps I'll give up on words and just make visual art and music instead.
I think this every time I come back to this place of trying to accept this part of my experience "as it is".
I struggle with this part though. I do.
Even with everything I "know".
I yearn for things to be different.
Sometimes I even hope they might be.
But hope isn't always a good thing, you know.
Especially when you can't afford to lose anything else.
So I can't write parts of that story right now.
It's not only because some people may not believe me.
I've long since abandoned trying to convince anyone of anything because of the exact same philosophy above.
But it is because, since most people can't believe me, I may die because of what I have to share for this story to be of benefit to anyone else. And I have no interest in telling it for any other reason, quite frankly.
There are consequences for these kinds of conversations around here. In my country anyway. I know this because I've already experienced them. I'm also experienced enough to know that I'm not special or unique at all.
And although I'm okay with dying these days, because I've had to make peace with the fact that I may not find my feet again, I do have a child to stick around for. For as long as possible.
And my responsibility as a parent is to him. First.
And always.
So although I'm supposed to be getting up to speed with the journey from there to here, life isn't actually linear and neither is learning as it turns out.
I've had to stop at a place that is not my forever home for the next while.
I'm exceedingly tired and need to rest again. I still need to rebuild financially. And I need to stop smoking again. Yes. I picked up again. It's a difficult beast and I have my opinion on why this is so...
but have yet to figure this particular one out in full.
It is, interestingly, only between two to seven cigarettes on a really bad day now.
Not bad for a twenty to forty a day smoker under such challenging circumstances. And the desire to smoke more than this, or to carry them around with me, is gone. But there's still something that I haven't let go of. And, of course, I'm dead curious 'scuse the bad pun to know why and what that is.
In my defense... things have been unstable and I've also been thrown some curve balls. And early recovery for anything is more likely to be successful if a person has some peace and stability to focus on this.
Hence the decision to stay in one place for the next bit as well.
The fact that I've been hired by the person who destroyed my life because, apparently, I'm not crazy enough to not be pretty good at what I used to do...
and I am honest enough to not rip him off, despite him claiming I was lying and still am...
is an unusual spin on figuring out this particular why.
Because I also learned this skill, and the smoking is heavily linked to it, in a very bad situation indeed.
This is going to be interesting, huh?
I no longer try to avoid things, by the way.
It's not often that a current situation mimics a past trauma super obviously. Really. It's a gift in many ways. An opportunity to process that past event and really heal and move forward.
While you're "in it" again.
Those feelings are right there, you see. And the memories as well.
I catch it quickly now before it sinks back into the shadows...
so I can sit with it long enough to make peace with it in full.
I no longer confuse inaction with lack of action either.
Sometimes we must stop to progress.
And if I don't stop now, the plain and simple fact of the matter is...
I am going to die soon.
So I'm stopping here for a while to focus properly now.
I'm unable, legally, to travel further than this anyway.
Further exploration North and to the west would, thus, require a car so that I can return within the 300km radius of Cape Town that I'm currently confined to.
The fact that I am not allowed to move freely out of this specific radius is an obvious Human Rights violation.
This was mediated by my government when I was too sick to go to court anymore, to continue a fight for actual freedom against the four false allegations made against me and my life partner that nobody bothered to hold anybody accountable for.
If you can walk into a court of law with a certified legal affidavit, with anything on it that you feel scribbling down, and nobody is going to bother holding you accountable for perjury then...
well...
you may understand why I keep saying there is no actual truth or justice in the Western Cape.
These issues regarding human rights, personal freedom and the Law also don't seem to be a concern for many people around here.
Not even for the judges who are ruling on them or the police officers who are supposed to be enforcing them.
So perhaps I'm wrong in being resentful and disappointed. Perhaps it is me. Perhaps I'm not supposed to want freedom, or to be in love or to have dreams.
Perhaps children shouldn't be protected if it's too much work to investigate things. And perhaps it's okay to allow not yet qualified students investigate, what there is time to investigate, for child protection service around here (BADISA).
Perhaps perjury is only a minor offense when murder abounds.
Of course...
if you can say anything you like in a court of law without consequence then...
there's no point in having a court of law at all.
Is there?
Should it be considered murder if a person knows someone has a chronic terminal illness and chooses to financially destabilize, isolate them and place them under massive amounts of stress I wonder?
If the person does die an early death, I mean. Obviously.
It might be considered murder if you know anything much about how addiction actually does work. Or why stress and Emphysema don't come highly recommended as partners.
I would say manslaughter if not, or intent to do grievous bodily harm or assault, at the very least, if this was all done intentionally, methodically and was rather brilliantly executed.
Intention has a lot to do with things in a real court of law, I'm sure.
But I'm not a lawyer.
And I can't argue my case as a woman anyway.
A man in my position might have some support.
I do not.
And I must accept things as they are or I won't make it through this for my son.
I still use music to stay afloat, by the way.
What I actually wanted to share, before I digressed, is that on those mornings when even turning over in bed seemed an impossible feat...
I would put a playlist on.
My "Look Up" playlist on Spotify.
I'd lie in bed listening to it until it would, inevitably, get me up and going again. It worked every time. Every single time.
I'm still using music to stay alive which I'll maybe share more about in a while. But I can't listen to the "Look Up" playlist anymore. That was that year or two.
And today is today.
I will, however, share a few of the songs that have been key moments in my journey with you for #ttt.
There are so many...
but these have special relevance to me.
Sent to my dad about six months before he killed himself. This is my favourite version, although I can't listen to this song anymore at all now.
Shared by my daughter when she was around ten years old while we were trying to survive a situation. She wasn't allowed to play her music in the car... although I would love it and sing along with her. Probably why we weren't allowed to play it. The car radio was turned off just after I asked her to put this one on once. I'll never forget that moment... although I was too tired to fight for her much anymore by that point. We both just sat there in silence. I learned this on the guitar in 2019, hoping to send it to her to say I remember and I understand... but have yet to be able to play any kind of decent version. I'm so very sorry, my baby. Carry on!
Don't be afraid to live. Be honest and accountable so that you learn quickly though... the most adaptable survive. Not the strongest or the most powerful. I was slow to learn some things... or just too proud and stubborn maybe.
Bonus tune - because life's like this, in truth. Nothing is ever ONE thing. Keep your chin up and don't forget to look up!
Look Up Playlist for anyone who's struggling to get back up today (or any day)
I'll be quieter around here for the next while. As you can probably tell (if you're able to see clearly, of course), I have some things to attend to that are a pressing priority.
But before I head off...
Never mistake compassion with stupidity. Never mistake curiosity with ignorance. Never mistake inaction with lack of action. Never mistake silence with avoidance. Never mistake kindness with weakness. Don't mistake AI with a Bot.
And never, never, never ever...
should you wake a sleeping dragon.
Especially if they have nothing (and everything) left to lose.
Eternal Seeker
Hardened Dreamer
Mother
Peaceful Warrior
Determined Dancer
and Stargazer
still...
Beyond fear is freedom
And there is nothing to be afraid of.
To Life, with Love... and always for Truth!
Nicky Dee
Artybot wasn't available when I checked in, so please find the original source of the featured image here. I would recommend giving ArtyBot a go rather, as first option, for original featured images.
Thank you 
p.s. I've run the numbers and the chances of me getting this right on my own are very slim indeed with things as they are. If there is anyone on this godforsaken planet who is actually interested in freedom and truth (that isn't already running themselves ragged trying to hold down the fort), please do say hello.
