The other side of laziness…

The other side of laziness…

Guys, I stepped on a scale today and I was five kilograms heavier than I was the last time I checked; about 2 or 3 weeks before. It’s the heaviest I’ve weighed all year, so you can imagine how unpleasant i thought I’d feel. But you know what went through my mind? It’s just 5 kilos. Now if you know me, you know how much I love food. And if you know me especially well, then you know how hard it is to fit me and exercise in the same equation. We’re like oil and water… we love to try but it just doesn’t work out (pun intended). So as I’m writing this, I’m smiling to myself thinking about the progress I’ve made in terms of food freedom these past months. A little while ago, I’d be dying at the knowledge that I’ve gained 5 kilos. I’m not kidding; I’d be in a serious bout of depression which comes with the worst episodes of binge eating you can imagine. But you know what I thought this time? I really have been over doing the luxurious breakfasts these last few weeks since self employment. I kid you not… Chocolate croissants, large beef samosas, sausages, coffee (with full cream milk)… the works! And when I get home from a long day at work, the only thing that will pick me up is a good old KFC meal. I really can’t be helped! This has been my life for about two months now, my cheeks are proof of it. So actually, 5 kilos isn’t too bad at all considering my lazy ass does no exercise at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not excusing my laziness. Far from it, actually. The number on that scale has forced me to sit down and REALLY think about what I can do (laziness considered) to be even just a little bit less sedentary. And I’ve decided to walk to work a few days a week. Now I do not know how long I’ll keep this up for, but we have to start somewhere. So when you see me, remember to ask, “Did you walk to work this week?”

I need to be held accountable. We all know there’s a whole lot of sexy hiding behind all those pizzas I can’t stop eating. In fact, I’m not sure you guys are ready for my not-lazy body.

So feel free to send me “ Did you walk to work?” text messages tomorrow. I promise I’ll be nice 😬

And in the meantime, for those who didn’t get my last memo, do not, and I repeat; DO NOT touch my cheeks!

Love and light to you all ❤️

Write to heal (4)

I got home this evening emotionally charged, with my tearducts swollen beyond maximum. Every now and then, they sneak and roll down my cheeks without my consent but today I heard myself wail. The only other time I heard that sound was when we were burying. I remember hearing a loud scream and then looking around for the origin of the noise. Only then did I realise that everyone’s head was looking at me, which had to mean that I was the one making the shocking sound. I had my head buried in Jojo’s chest and I was screaming like someone who was having their skin peeled off.

And so today I found myself screaming in a similar manner, except that I had to park my car a little distance from home and roll my Windows up. Because the last thing I would want would be to upset my mother. Because as much as I lost a father, she lost a best friend, spouse  and companion of more than 30 years. My loss doesn’t even begin to compare.

And then it hit me that I’ve spent the last few months trying to make everyone around me comfortable with my grief and havent really taken any time off for me. If I’m not trying not to upset my mother, I’m trying not to upset my siblings, or to make sure my friends aren’t walking on eggshells around me just because I’m grieving. I’ve bent over backwards to appear okay, and in the process haven’t given myself much time to deal with the situation and begin to recover. If I had, I wouldn’t be wailing in the street. At least I don’t think I would.

So I’ve decided to take some time off and process my feelings. Call it the activation of ‘Hermit Mode’. I probably won’t be taking calls or responding to texts for the next few days. Please bear with me.

Hugs and kisses…

Zeri

Not another Valentine’s day…

The 14th of February… such a scandalous day world over. People’s minds are blown, sometimes, others get terribly disappointed. Some have chosen not to believe altogether because it’s easier than accepting that nothing is coming through for yet another year in a row…
For me it holds so many funny memories from years past. From the little boy who got suspended from boarding school because he escaped to come and see me on that day (I didn’t even see him because my parents were home and I couldn’t get out of the gate), to the time I had more than one tentative date and they ALL fell through… to the time when my surprises came through well after 7pm and by then I was too mad to enjoy the treat (the perfect date, by the way). Then I remember the time when I came down from my building on my first day in Cape Town to find a boy with a puppy, red roses and a huge placard saying “Happy Valentine’s day baby!” And no calls or texts from my then boo. Thank God there were no blue ticks then . They could have started a world war, I tell you.

Now that I’m older (and much wiser), I find it absolutely ridiculous that so much would be tied to a single day, one with a very questionable history at that. I mean, it’s true that most of us need something to fuss over, to believe in, to look forward to; but frankly speaking, I think it would be much wiser to let the whole thing go altogether. I mean, what happens when nothing comes through? Or if you get the same old bouquet of flowers for the seventh year in a row? What then?

Call me a cynic but I’d rather have 365 days in which to expect nice things than have one singular one. There’s much less room for error with the former. However, with that being said, I do hope you guys weren’t too disappointed today. Surely some of your dreams came true, yes? We all know how much I love a good love story.

But for the rest of you who, like me, neither believe in nor celebrate Valentine’s day, I do hope you had a wonderful day at work/school/life.

Hugs and kisses…

❤Zeri❤

Write to heal (1).

Write to heal (1).

​As human beings, we have a habit of walking away when our loved ones need us most. We are afraid of pain and seeing other people express it openly often unsettles us. We find ourselves unsure of what to say or do. And a lot of the time, that uncertainty keeps us away. “I’ll give them some time,” we say, “they’ll be alright.” My question today is, does this help? And why on earth do we think it does?

If you know me, you know I’d never cry in public. Not if there’s something I can do about it. Now during my father’s funeral,  i kept excusing myself from the crowd and locking myself in the bedroom to weep.

And when I was done, I’d wipe my tears,  wash my face and come back out to play host; poker face and all. I noticed more than a few people staring at my face, looking for signs of tears or some sort of emotion but I showed none. Because where I come from, you don’t show your emotions in public. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I was accused of strength as if it were a medal of honor. Once or twice, I explained that someone had to make sure everything was going okay considering there were only three of us hosting and attending to the hundreds of co-mourners. If I lost it, my mother and two siblings would probably lose it too. Then what? Another time, I nearly bit someone’s head off. But I won’t get into the details. People can be so insensitive.

Anyway, all through the four days, we received an overwhelming amount of support from our friends. Some of them dropped everything and sat with us all day and all night for the entire week, even after the funeral had ended. It’s the kind of thing none of us will ever forget. Thank you. To the people who have kept visiting us every day, calling us, bringing us food (because we haven’t cooked at all since it happened. Junk food has been our life), praying with us, praying for us;  Thank you so so much. For those who let us talk about our loved one (because that’s what our hearts need right now), thank you so much. My baby, Jojo, who held my hand for most of it, and let me cry on her shoulder even though she hates crowds and the tears probably made her uncomfortable, I have no words. But know that my heart fills up with gratitude when I think of you. But like you said, I’d have done the same thing for you.

I know it’s hard to be around sad people, and it’s hard to listen to the painful details of how we feel right now, but thank you for listening anyway, and for the words of encouragement  (for those who offer them). Thank you for holding our hands and helping us whenever and wherever you were able to.

We really really appreciate it.

The Honesty Series #1

Over the last few months, I’ve been forced to dig deep into my emotional stores for all that stuff I’d packed away in those boxes labelled “Danger! Never to be opened”. I’ve had some of my most difficult conversations this year and I think I just might be a better person for it.

Earlier this evening, I unpacked the contents of a  particular box whose exact location I thought I’d forgotten. It started with a casual stroll down memory lane, one I didn’t even prompt. Yet before I knew it, we were jogging and then running all the way down the lane. The words were out before I could stop them. And just like that, there my truth was in its full glory! For a minute there, I wanted to take it all back. I thought of every possible way I could take back everything I’d just said. I felt almost naked and exposed. Almost, because there’s one little thing I left out. Perhaps another time, if it ever comes.

Anyway, as I sat there thinking about what I could possibly say to lighten the mood a little bit, my date said something that left me completely dumbfounded. In that moment, it occurred to me that the person I was talking to had no idea what had just happened. I could have said “look, that cow has two heads” and they still wouldn’t have told the difference. A wave of relief washed over me for a moment. But it passed just as quickly when I realised there was something horribly, terribly wrong with that picture.

I vaguely remember uttering a few unintelligible statements about how much I’d give to get rid of my emotions. But I was lying. My momentary lack of emotions is exactly why I was sorting through fossils in the first place.  Who am I without my emotions? Nothing. No one. That’s who.  It’s true that I’m intense. I love and hate so fiercely that even I sometimes worry for the people on the receiving end. “Somehow” has never quite been my style. Not for lack of trying, though. I just always land on the extreme end of the scale. Always.

Anyway, at the end of it all, I packed up my little box and put it on the shelf because now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no need to bury it out in the field anymore. Who knows, maybe one day it will all make sense…