Excuse me while I work through the mud
I want to write about this without triggering my tears. Not only because my roommate is sitting across me but also because the shame I will feel should I cry will be too much for me to bear.
I made a tweet about this a week or so ago. The emotion in question was anger. Anger I had felt after someone cancelled plans we had made and didn’t bother to let me know until I inquired when they failed to pitch. A lot of my emotions fill me with shame because I was never validated as a child and I neve really mattered to anyone. Writing this I’m remembering an article I read days back about a boy, in his dieing breathe, was sobbing and saying ‘nobody loves me, nobody will feed me’. If I had died at that age, those would have been my words too and they probably will be when I die well into my 70s. God knows I hope not! Cos who the fuck wants to be 70 and along huh?(Drake, you genius). This piece was partly inspired by that, my never really having anybody that has ever loved me enough to stay.
As soon as you read that last statement I’m sure you’re thinking of romantic love and how I am a love-scorned-girl-turned-feminist. That would have made this piece much shorter and a lot less sadder if I’m keeping it a 100(yes, I’m part zillenial part millenial). I suggest you burn some sage, pick up a cup of coffee or glass of wine, get tissues ready and get ready for my sob story.
I hate seeing myself as a victim, I hate wallowing in my emotions, I hate feeling sorry for myself, I hate being sad. I hate myself. Not in the ‘I wish I was someone else’ way but maybe in the ‘I wish the world had dealt me a better card when it comes to love. Ok, the tears are coming.
I grew up with my mother and brother. Both amazing people. My brother being my mother’s first child, I guess they connected better than she and I did. They were best friends and had this impenetrable clique. I was never really welcome in it, nor was I accepted. My father was nowhere to be found so you can imagine how alone I felt. I felt alone while growing up, I still feel it. This piece was triggered by this very emotion. Being abandoned by a dear friend and feeling alone once more in a world full of 7 billion other people.
Before everything, I’d like to say that I am not angry at the people that will feature in this piece. I understand why they did what they did, I understand my role in it, I forgive them and myself for the hurt that transpired
*deep breath*
I read a beautiful tweet Gogo Tsoaeli once made on the word ‘ntshwarele’. In it she was explaining how saying ‘ntshwarele’ was expressing your sorrow in having hurt the one you love and asking the person to hold that deed for you and not against you. In sesotho ‘tshwara/fupara’ means to cover said thing with your hand. In the context of forgiveness, it means covering said deed with the love between you two and trusting that it was not done in malice. I’ve held that close to my heart ever since. Using it to extend grace to my loved ones when time commanded we do so. I haven’t been lucky enough to receive such grace. Once again, I’m feeling shame fill me up as I acknowledge this.
‘ My dear friend, my lighthouse. I call you my lighthouse because when my grief became too much for me to bear, you were my guide to calm shores and I for you. We would talk long into the darkest hours until our words became thoughts as we were silenced by the dawn. While we were turned inside out, torn at the seams by grief, we clung to each other and promised to hold on no matter the tides. ‘You’re going to be my best man at my wedding’ and ‘We’re going to host a two people champagne party when you get appointed’. Did you forget those promises? Did you choose to forget all the times we’ve saved each other? Am I that easily disposable to you that you chose to not hold this mistake for me, as many times as I have for your mistakes? Words fail me when I try describing what I felt when I read your texts, what I feel now as I think about your desire to stop our friendship because of a rumour. To not want to hear my side of the story, despite having known me for so long. Even if it turned out to be true, how could you not forgive me? Your apology means nothing to me, unfortunately. You couldn’t give me grace, why should I? ’
I couldn’t explain the situation without putting it in a letter to my friend. That and that in all honesty, I cannot piece what happened together. All I know is that my longtime friend ghosted me over a rumour and after my million attempts to reach him he finally expressed the desire to end our friendship. My heart sank to my feet when he had no desire to talk it through. I once again was facing a situation where someone I loved was about to walk out of my life like I never mattered in the first place, I was once again faced with a gaping abandonment wound. The wounded child in me wanted to kick and scream but that wasn’t possible because I never learned how to throw tantrums either, they never mattered. It definitely triggered the day the love of my life decided to walk out on me, or when my bestfriend of over 10years told me she didn’t want to be friends over a misunderstanding or when Dudu chose her scummy boyfriend over me.
How do I, at 26, learn how to express my emotions without feeling shame? How do I learn how to love when love has been so unkind to me? Armed with a laptop and this blog, impepho and Bakoena ba Ha-Monaheng and a R400/hr therapy session, hopefully I can learn to work through the mud.
