Harsh Winter

Picture: I took this one at home, on the 29th of June, a rainy day pretty much like today.

I woke up this morning realizing that I was - once again – sick! This is my third consecutive cold/bout of ‘flu, with just a few days of respite in between. The cycles of my life play a huge role in this, as my children come and go every alternate week, bringing with them the health issues they’re dealing with, and re-infecting me, despite my strict health regime. This is what families do, they pass infectious sicknesses on to each other. In my case there’s a false sense of immunity when I’m on my own, because I have 7 days in which to medicate myself, eat healthily, drink lots of fluids and get a fair amount of rest. And then, as I start to feel a lot better and get to the end of my meds, etc, they return and a whole new set of realities emerges.

Being sick has given me a sense of perspective, as I’ve realized how, when I’m in good health, I let relatively insignificant things hold me back. I’ve had to confront the reality of how much self-sabotaging I still do, and how ingrained it is in me. There are other factors in my life that work at keeping me in that old style of being, but it doesn’t serve me any good to go into those details now, lapsing into blaming mode, because that’s as counter-productive as the patterns I’m struggling to break.

When I look at yesterday alone, and how I was basically busy from 05:45 till 22:00, I want to scream. Motherhood seems to come with a lot of bad habits, unless we consciously work at doing it differently. I know this about myself: when my loved ones need me in any way, it’s hard for me to think of myself. I find it difficult to prioritise my own needs when the people I love need me to take care of them. Since I actually do believe that very little in life demands an all-or-nothing approach, it’s amazing that I’m still caught in this trap of martyrdom, emulating what’s been modeled to me, throughout my life. It’s so hard for me to fully accept that knowing the theory doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to be applying it to my life successfully.

This thing called personal empowerment is a long, arduous journey.

Yesterday I took my daughter to school to write an exam, and fetched her a few hours later. Over the weekend, her flu had become so extreme, that her dad had taken her to hospital to be nebulised. In her case, her condition had been exacerbated by two things – her asthma and a bout of tonsillitis! Her chest was so bad, that the doctor said she was one step away from pneumonia. Now that’s scary!

My son, already dealing with incredible pain and reduced mobility - complications from knee surgery last year – also caught the flu, was coughing like a barking dog, and I ended up taking him to the doctor last night. He’s also had asthma since he was young.

Yesterday, I had my first session tutoring a young boy, which meant I needed time to prepare my lesson. Finding this time was not easy. When your kids are sick, you tend to be the one making the meals, which ends up feeling like your whole day is: prepare a meal, serve it, clear the table, wash up, pack everything away; oh my goodness, it’s meal time again, here we go: prepare a meal, serve it, clear the table, wash up, pack everything away, and oh wait, what’s this, another meal……! Add to that the inevitable laundry, the trip to the shop because you’ve run out of something, the gnawing feeling that you’re not going to achieve any of your personal stuff, that other gnawing feeling that you’re starting to feel sick, yourself, and in the end, if you don’t get the hell to bed at a decent hour, you’re going to be grumpy, snapping at the very people you’re trying to care for.

Today I have to do things differently. I woke up this morning and lay in bed thinking about what day it was and what the demands of the day were. Then I focused on my concert, on 7 October, and realised it was SIX AND A HALF WEEKS AWAY! With all my distractions, I’ve had very little time to consolidate plans, not to mention start rehearsing! On Sunday I’d sent all the musicians text messages and said I’d follow up with a phone call the next day. The next day was yesterday, which, as I’ve just said, was like my very own tsunami.

Today I was up as early as my body allowed me to be, and I’m determined to get through this day with a lot more savvy than yesterday. Today I’m cooking ONE meal, and that’s supper. For the rest, it’s cereal for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch. My daughter asked if we could make pancakes today - she'd found 6 different recipes yesterday - and I’m happy to add that to my To Do list.

Today, Tuesday, is what I call my “Admin. Day” (suggestion from life coach), so it’s a day when I plan things and, where possible, do active marketing of some kind, usually on the internet, but there’s also the “on foot” variety. Last week I designed and printed flyers and posters, advertising my guitar lessons as well as availability for gigs, so today I should brave the elements (brrr!) and distribute some of them to local shops and libraries. Go on Trudy, you can do it!

One thing that I did achieve yesterday, that made me feel a huge sense of accomplishment, was make a pot of stewed guavas, with fruit from a tree in my garden. I’ve been living here for fourteen and a half years, and this is the first time I’ve done that. As a child, I used to eat stewed fruit – always with custard – and had loved it. Every year for the past 14 years I have watched the guavas grow, watched the tree become so heavily-laden that the branches droop down with indulgent fatigue, and every year I’ve thought about picking some, and making this sweet treat for my family. So yesterday, I picked 8 big, yellow (but still hard and unripe) guavas, and sent a text to a friend asking how to stew them. She wrote back that she didn’t know but would ask her mother. By that time I’d unearthed my entire collection of recipe books – much to my daughter’s delight, as she seems to be fascinated by cooking – and found what I needed. So, last night, after supper, we had stewed guavas.

Yes, with custard. Mmmmm!