It may get hairy…

This isn’t an easy post to write, as it’s about a serious topic, rather than mind-numbing ramblings. Not too serious, well not for you, but for me it rather is.

I have some large changes to make in my life and I’m a tad scared to make them. I’m not scared of change, far from it, but rather I’m scared to continuing to change. The last three years of my life have been about upheaval, nomadic tendencies and constant change. I haven’t wanted to stop moving for more than three months. I could say this was a ‘phase,’ but before this period I too had to change every six months – a big change – be it moving house, job or relationship. In fact, in one day, I managed to lose my house, my job and my car. At the time I was flabbergasted at my bad luck, but it turned out to be one of the positive turning points of my life. Further confirming my unspoken theory – that to keep running will solve everything.

It’s this theory that’s currently bothering me. When I returned from London, I promised myself that wherever I landed, I would stay – so to speak. So I landed in Joburg. I lasted 5 months, granted at a torrid company (although only three months there) and off I popped to KZN, under the strict promise to myself that I shan’t move for at least a year.

Well, I found paradise in a log cabin…that turned out to be the 12th level of Hell (read my first ever posts)…and off I popped to Scottburgh…under the strict promise that I wasn’t to move for a year. It is here I find myself, but I find myself alone. Although surrounded by people, I feel utterly and completely alone. Any poor bugger with the misfortune of asking me how I am, will get an honest answer (not something you’d wish upon yourself…but perhaps your enemy). I have stresses I can’t talk of to those around me (aside from aforementioned poor buggers who I don’t see daily). I know this post may arouse interest and screening questions, but they will get nowhere. My stresses cannot be spoken in Scottburgh. Nor will they. They’re not life-threatening, nor disastrous, nor life-changing, I suppose, but they’re stresses.

And the only way I know how to change this is through change itself. In Scottburgh, there is no one to talk to, few to drink with and after 6 months of either living here or nearby, I’ve realised, there never will. I convinced myself that there would be someone beautiful and perfect waiting for me the other side of sanity, but I find myself swirling deeper into the abyss that is stress and self-absorbtion and know that I will be too blind to see it should it actually occur.

(Apologies, this is turning into a long one).

A touch of honesty – baring of soul so to speak – I’m a rebel…with a cause. I’ve long wanted a family, a kids, settling down (not in the white picket fence, kind of way, the traveling the world while pregnant, stupid kind of way). Lying to myself about my age is no longer possible. I know 28 isn’t all that old, but I’m hell of a broody, always have been and… to be honest…I just want to stop now. The chances of me having kids are less than the average person (or should I say woman?), perhaps not significantly, but it entirely depends on luck in my case. More so than the average person, at least. And with each year, my chances decrease. I have friends who’ve had children in their early, mid or even late 30s, but they don’t have my constitution. I’m not being pessimistic, I’m being a realist. And staying here is helping nothing.I want someone, not anyone, that someone. Yes, I do believe in that someone – illogical as it may be. I want someone who loves me regardless of what I wear, look like or act and I want that person to want what I want – an additional person to share the awesomeness of life with.

I’m loathe to move. I love my house, but I’m slowly on the way to losing the parts of me that make me…well…me. I’m not breath-taking, or utterly vibrant, I make very little difference in people’s lives, but after years spent trying to find myself, I found I actually liked, if not loved myself. And now I’m disappearing. Sucked deep into the same abyss I mentioned above.

I do not want to be this person. Should I move, will it change? I think it will. I’m not looking to move far, just an hour away, but somewhere where I am me, with no obligations, no preconceptions, a place I can truly be me….and a place with people my age. but I hate myself for even thinking of once again moving.  I feel I’m incapable of spending a year in one place. Should it not change, I’m not sure what I’ll do…perhaps see someone to still the swirling…who knows.

For now, I wait for my finances to secure themselves, so I can decide whether or not to change. For better or for worse. To see if I can find myself and to see if I can find someone who wants me as I am now – disheveled with a Merlot grin.


(side note to a friend: Yes, I started a lot of sentences with a conjunction. 1 point to you and 1 point to poetic license).

Comments on: "Dishevelled with a Merlot grin" (2)

  1. What a raw, honest post. Only you can have the courage to know what is right for you and deep down I think you know what you really want to do. Do not let other peoples values or life views dictate what works for you. I have found you can’t intellectualize too much or control too much, as tempting as it is. Follow your heart, relax and let it be. My happiness began the day I said “Fuck it”, threw away logic and followed my heart.


    • Wow, thanks, Jacqui. You’re 100% right, I think, and my heart does tell me to move on, although the idea of moving (aside from the emotional strain) is enough to make me turn and run the other way 🙂 In all honesty, though, you’re right, I was truly happy when I said ‘Fuck it’ and did what I wanted. Perhaps it’s time to do that again and stop telling myself what my heart wants and instead…listen to it. Thank you!


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