English below Die afgelope naweek draai daar ’n deuntjie in my kop… Goodbye to you my trusted friend, we’ve known each other since we were nine or ten… Ek was nege, om presies te wees, en my boetie sewe, toe ons haar gekry het. Op daardie stadium het ons twee hasies en ’n foksterriër-hond gehad. Een middag het ons na skool by die huis gekom. My ma het vir ons ’n verrassing gehad – nog ’n hasie. Ek was nie werklik opgewonde oor die nuwe hasie nie, maar nuuskierigheid het die oorhand gekry. Van ver af sien ons ’n spelerige swart en wit bondeltjie en besef gou dat dit nie nog ’n hasie is nie. Ek onthou dat ons almal op my bed gesit het met die bondeltjie en koppe bymekaargesit het vir ’n naam. Vlekkie – het ek voorgestel, want op haar vel en binne in haar kouerige bekkie, was daar swart vlekke, soos op haar pelsie. Vir sewentien en ’n half jaar was sy deel van ons gesin. En Saterdag was dit tyd om haar te laat gaan. Sy was oud, seniel, doof en blind. Tog maak dit nie die totsiens makliker nie. Soos ons rondom die veearts tafel groet, spoel ’n duisend herinneringe deur my kop. Ek onthou hoe sy altyd saam en soms sonder ons geswem het – selfs een keer in die middel van die winter. Sy was toe nog klein en het voor die skuifdeur kom sit en bewe. Sy was mal oor swem. Ek onthou ook die keer toe ons saam met huisvriende Yzerfontein toe is. Op een of ander manier het die honde – hulle twee en Vlekkie - by die huurhuis se hekkie uitgeglip en Yzerfontein op hulle eie gaan verken. Dit was in die winter. Ek onthou, want die see was onstuimig en die skuimbolle het so hoog soos ons lank was, gestaan. Swembrakkies. Ou Vlekka. Ons Vlekkiehond. Hoe het jy so oud geword? Terwyl ek al die herrineringe bymekaarhark, loer ek na my ma. Haar oë is waterig. Dis toe dat ek sien sy gee die sakdoek vir my broer aan. Ek het nie gedink hy gaan ook huil nie. (Jammer boeta, dat ek dit aan die wêreld verkondig) Dis toe dat ek besef: sewentien en ’n half jaar is ’n leeftyd. Vir my broer het dit sy hele laerskool, hoërskool, Universiteit en eerste twee maande van werk ingesluit. My pa skuif nader en vou sy arms beskermend om ons al drie. Daar staan ons gesinnetjie en vir ’n vlietende oomblik is ek weer ’n kind. We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun… a Dog's lifeMy life and memories have always been accompanied by a soundtrack.
The past weekend the following line kept playing on repeat: Goodbye, to you, my trusted friend, we've known each other since we were nine or ten... I was nine, to be exact, and my brother seven, when we got her. At the time, we had two rabbits and a fox terrier. As we got home from school one day, my mother announced that she had a surprise - another rabbit. While I wasn't particularly excited about another fluffy friend, curiosity got the better of me. I remember seeing the playful white and black bundle and realizing this was not another rabbit. That night we all sat in my room with the little bundle while thinking of a name. Vlekkie - I suggested. Because on her tummy and inside her mouth were black spots. For seventeen and a half years she was part of our family. And on Saturday we had to let her go. She was old, senile, deaf and blind. Yet, it did not ease the pain of letting go. As we said our goodbyes, a lifetime of memories flooded my mind's eye. I remember how she used to love swimming. Sometimes with us, mostly without. Once - when she was little- she even swam in the middle of winter. She sat outside, shivering, with her puppy-eyes begging to come inside. I also remember the time we went to Yzerfontein with family friends, taking our dogs along. Somehow the dogs escaped from the holiday home's. It was winter. I remember, for the ocean was boisterous and sea foam coated the beach and even some of the streets. When my mind drifted back to the consultation room, I glanced at my mother. Her eyes was watery. Thats when I noticed her handing a handkerchief to my brother. I did not expect him to cry too. Thats when I realised: seventeen and a half years is a lifetime. For him it included all of his school and varsity years. From the corner of my eye, I see my dad moving closer. He wraps his arms around his wife and children. A close-knit family. And for a moment, I'm a kid again. We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun...
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It's been six years since I was admitted to a clinic, diagnosed with depression.
I remember seeing the acronym MAD on my first diagnosis. Major Depressive Disorder. Instead of seeing the humor in the situation, upset I stared at the word Major. Apparantly, there was no such thing as Minor Depression. Looking back, I realized that it was always kind of there... luring in the corners of my mind. My sensitive nature has always stood in my way in a certain sense. Every time I wasn't invited to a party, or friend didn't want to talk to me, I failed a test, someone was better than me at something AND claimed it with confidence, a voice whispered, "I am not good enough." It happened so frequently that I started to believe it. Lately, I've been on a journey of healing, peace and self-acceptance. I am creative. Endlessly exploring new and exciting hobbies and things to DIY. I am also caring, sensitive and empathetic. This is a great strength, since it makes me a great listener. But it could be a disadvantage too. Sometimes, when I surround myself with too many people, like a sponge I absorb all of their emotions, and their problems becomes mine. If I don't time-out and take much needed me-time, I burn out. But why am I telling you all this? Well, although it's the twenty-first century, there still seems to be a strong stigma around mental health. Especially in the work environment. I mean, when I go to a interview and they ask me what I did in 2015, what am I going to tell them? I relapsed and had to quit my job? Now who would appoint someone with that kind of history? Since then, however, with the help of a psychiatrist, psychologist and life-coach, I have led a relatively normal life. (Whatever that might mean to you) Today I am taking a stance. I'm done apologizing and I'm done wondering what someone else thinks of me. After all, what they think has nothing do with me and everything to do with them. I am me. The one and only me. I'm creative, chaotic, caring, silly, shy, sensitive, an INFP (Myers-Briggs) and sometimes... anxious and depressed. From this day on all I'll be... is unapologetically me! |
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