Woman Zone - Finding Herself - Podcast Interview - Part 4 of 4

 TRANSCRIPT OF WOMAN ZONE INTERVIEW WITH TRUDY RUSHIN, PART OF ‘FINDING HERSELF’ PODCAST SERIES (DEC. 2020)

INTERVIEWER: THERESA SMITH

·         So if I think about what I remember you were like, 20, 30 years ago, and how I know you now, it does feel to me like you’re so much more sure of yourself. And this particular podcast series is called Finding Herself and it is kind of partly why I thought you’d be really good at it, because, for me, it does feel like you have found and are quite comfortable and happy with who you are.  That’s a rare thing. People don’t always get that right or recognise that about themselves.

TRUDY: There are so many things I could say about that, but I think … you know, I work with younger people and I can see how they still have to experience more things, in order to arrive at the conclusions I’ve arrived at. But the important thing is that you actually experience the things, because I can give a talk to college students – which I sometimes do – but it’s the adults there, it’s the lecturers, who are sitting there nodding and like , “Ja!”  - you know, it makes sense to them. But it’s like the youngsters still have to live through some of the things that I struggled with in order to arrive at their own conclusions about what does and doesn’t work for them.

One of the mottos I have in life is that we write our life stories by the things we say yes and no to. And I wouldn’t have known that when I was 20. I know it now that I’m 59. (Laughs.)

 ·         Just going back to what you were saying about Summer and Nick. What’s the lesson that you would like to pass on? If there’s one thing they gotta just remember, that’s the thing you hope they remember.

TRUDY: I’ve a long list of those things. (Laughs) If I say one of the things, it’s going to sound out of context, but I think… you know, stay open. First of all: “know who you are”. And the other side of the coin is: “ know who you are not”.  And then, remain open to what life sends your way.

I have a long list – I can tell you all my others. (Laughs)

 ·         That was the first thing that kind of came to mind, for you, so I guess that’s a really important point to you, then.

TRUDY: Ja. ‘Cos you know, for example, like when they were teenagers, and now they go to parties or whatever. It’s so scary, as a parent, to think of what they’re going to be exposed to.  You want your children, even then, to know that they don’t have to do what everyone else says is cool. But you can tell them that, but only when they’re in the situation will they actually figure out how much they do want to experiment and how much they actually feel, “Naaah, it doesn’t make any difference to me.” You know? So there’s a lot of trust that goes with that and a lot of stepping back and hoping it’s gonna turn out okay.  But even then, I was saying to them, “Know who you are. Know what interests you and what doesn’t. If you’ve never wanted to smoke, don’t try it. Or try it and then, you know, you’ll see that it’s actually not for you. “ Ja… so.. that kind of thing.

 ·         Do you have any regrets about how you live your life ….  About how you’ve done things?

TRUDY: Em…… I actually do. And there’s obviously a long list, but I’m just gonna say one broad one, which is  - this is my adult life, right, not my childhood – I’ve spent so much time in survival mode, that I didn’t prioritise financial planning, like other people did, for my retirement. So, for me, that is a regret. Partly, because I’ve been so open to what life has sent my way that I’ve made so many changes and seriously a lot of it was about getting through the present, you know. Dealing with whatever. But as I said, we write our stories by what we say yes and no to. And you just have to not limit yourself, even in terms of age and what lies ahead. So, ja -I would just say I wish I had been more …. again, I wish I’d had an older and wiser person who had that kind of knowledge or that kind of perspective. Because I come from a working class background, like most of us, and our parents may not necessarily… my parents didn’t finish high school. They went into jobs, to earn money, you know? And I think they were very much in survival mode, a lot of the time. 

But ja … I … that is one regret I have. But even then, you know, I never give up. So, I’m still working on that. (Laughs)

·         The other side of it is like what are you really proud of?

TRUDY: Ok, so here’s my list. (Giggles) I’m proud that I now do not accept abuse in any form, from anyone. And that, I think, has been a big part of my journey. Typical naïve person, getting involved with very different types of personalities that don’t always put you first, and putting up with things for a long time, because you don’t even know that that’s emotional abuse. So, I don’t accept abuse from anyone. And I’m a lot clearer about boundaries. I’m a lot clearer about … if I don’t want something or someone in my life anymore, the earth is not going to stop rotating if I put that boundary in place. Life goes on, you know?

I can say that I’ve learnt that … I’m proud of the fact that no matter how hard something is to talk about, if I spend enough time thinking about it and planning and tapping into good energy, I will find the right words at the right time. I’ve learnt to like myself and I think, as a woman, that’s a big thing to say, because society keeps telling us you need to be a little more this, a little less that, stop being so loud, stop talking so much, why aren’t you in a relationship? Etcetera. So I like myself now, and I don’t feel the need to prove myself to anybody.

I’ve learnt to trust my instincts and my judgement and I get very frustrated when other people underestimate me, because I know that I have a good track record of good instincts, now in the latter part of my life.  Ja, I think I’ve learnt better boundaries. I’ve learnt that honouring yourself ... it’s not arrogant or selfish, you know? And I think I was raised with a bit of a martyr mentality. We always joke, my kids and I, about who inherited the martyr gene. And I think I’ve had to chip away at that, because martyrdom doesn’t suit anybody ... doesn’t work for anyone.

And I like the fact that I’m open to life and that I can’t tell you now what I’ll be doing next year this time, in different parts of my life. Because life might send me something amazing that I would go for, and I like that.

                                                      Wise words of the late Maya Angelou.

 ·         Just to bring this back full circle again: I know it’s a bit weird to ask you this, but like are you what you hoped to be?

TRUDY: In answering that, I’d like to share a little incident with you. When I was married… I think it was … I got married in ‘94, and in ’97, towards the end of the year, I recorded my first little demo of four original songs. And the first time that my … one of my songs was played on  radio, I had been told by the presenter that he would play it – that was Eric Alan, who also opened doors for me – and I was waiting for the song to be played and when it played I was like jumping out of my skin with excitement, jumping up and down and like, “Jaaaa!!!”, you know? And my husband, who’s now my ex-husband, stood there with his arms folded and said, “Don’t think you’ve arrived.” And – two things: obviously, I felt devastated at the response, but the irony was I never think I’ve arrived! 

And so: am I what I hoped to be? I feel like I’m still becoming, you know? That … that life is still unfolding and there’s no end point, while you’re still alive, you know. And even after that, I think whatever seeds you’ve planted live on, you know, in people and so on.

So – am I what I hoped to be? I’m free – I wasn’t always free. I was in oppressive relationships, more than once. I’m independent – I like that. And I’m not limited by other people’s insecurities. So… I think I hoped to be that when I was not that.  But in terms of, like, as I said, being ambitious, career-wise and so on, I believe I want to always be making a difference in the world, and that will inform everything that I do.     

But ja…. I don’t actually know how to answer that, beyond what I’ve said, you know? Are you what you hoped to be. I hoped to be respectful of people, to treat them with dignity, regardless of what their jobs are or where they live, etc. And that again, I think, comes back to how we were raised, which is everybody’s equal. So, ja…  in a sense, I am what I hoped to be. 

                                                  Feb 2019 // Photo: Jeffrey Abrahams

 

Woman Zone - Finding Herself - Podcast Interview - Part 3 of 4

 TRANSCRIPT OF WOMAN ZONE INTERVIEW WITH TRUDY RUSHIN, PART OF ‘FINDING HERSELF’ PODCAST SERIES (DEC. 2020)

INTERVIEWER: THERESA SMITH

·         I was going to ask you this question about would you give a shoutout to anyone who has helped you along the way, so let’s talk about that. 

TRUDY:  Ok, so I would definitely say the biggest influence in my life was my mother. She is now 90 years old and has Alzheimer’s, so our relationship has changed, because she doesn’t communicate like she used to, etc. but watching her, when I was growing up – at home, she was just Mommy and she wore like huisklere and cleaned the floors herself and cooked and did everything, but when she went on stage, she transformed, you know – she dressed  and she wore jewelry and I remember always being blown away by her singing. Whether it was in a community concert or in an opera, but she was always this like unbelievable goddess. And... then at home she was Mommy – warm, loving, nurturing. Ja, you know, just such a strange combination and yet I think that ended up paving the way for sort of how I live my life – not that I’m a goddess! (giggles) Ja! I hope I’m raising one!

                                           My daughter, my mom and I - 29 Dec 2020

I have one sibling and that’s my sister, Wendy, and she’s always had my back, so shoutout to her. I have family members – cousins – who are fairly close and we, at different stages of my life, we lived with different family members, so my mother, my sister and I, we lived at different … with family… and then, in the music part of my world: Eddie Petersen, Keith Tabisher, Wayne Bosch.

The late Errol Dyers – I met him only in 2011, but in the short time that I knew him, until his death, he made a huge impact on me. I loved the fact that he seemed devoid of ego – in terms of “I’m the great Errol Dyers” – he was very humble and it showed in how he made space for me, when we made music together. And I just liked him a lot - his value system, his no-nonsense approach. He refused to play cover versions. And I regret to say that at one gig, I mean I got him to play a wedding with me, where we did cover versions. But, you know, it was a job and, at different stages of musicians’ lives, they do that kind of thing. But in general, he didn’t like playing cover versions – he liked playing either his originals or the originals of the person he was playing with, so he liked my songs. Or he wanted to play South African music.

                                         Errol Dyers and I, 2014 // Photo: Gregory Franz

And then, more recently, a musician I’ve worked with is Rudy Burns. He’s more than ten years my senior, also a guitarist, beautiful musician and I really … I’m very lucky to have these accomplished musicians who are happy to play my music and play along with me, you know.

                                                            Rudy Burns and I, 2018

And then, three people I want to mention who are in the music world but not musicians, who’ve really made a difference to me: two of them are Chantel Erfort and her husband, André Manuel, who have Dala Flat Music. 

And in 2004 they came to a gig where Keith and I were playing, and Chantel heard some of my originals and gave me an opportunity to perform my originals to a poetry audience.  At that time, she was organising  monthly poetry nights at this restaurant in Adderley Street, called Off Moroka, which is no longer there.  And that was the first time I’d played in that kind of setting, where people were just sitting in a fairly intimate space and I think for thirty minutes I just played my original songs. And it really felt like baring my soul and it felt like such a  … it was such a difficult thing for me, for many reasons.

I just want to take a step back. I had been married for six years, and even though I married a musician, it was not a harmonious marriage, most of the time. And one of the things he said to me, that informed me for a while, until I broke free of that, was “Don’t sing your songs in public – they’re too personal. “ And the first night that I played at Chantel’s poetry evening, when I sang my originals… only originals … just myself, nobody else playing with me – at the end of that set, women came up to me and said, “You’ve sung my story. You’ve put into words, into songs, what I could never turn into a piece of art – but you’ve sung my story.“ And that … that was a big, big change in my life. And another interesting part of the Chantel-André dynamic is that I taught Chantel when she was in Sub A! (Giggles) So that was amazing - that someone on whose life I had impacted, when she was so young, then impacted on mine, all those years later.  

And then another person who has done a lot for me, musically, is Lisba Vosloo. She is a documentary filmmaker and I met her when she was filming my mom for a documentary on the Eoan Group. And she then came to one of my gigs and filmed me and then it turned into filming two videos that are now on YouTube. So, Lisba has done a whole lot for me and … ja… and we continue to be in each other’s lives, all these people, so it’s… and there are many others … I just … you know, there are so many people who impact on one, in small and big ways,  and we really are who we are because of other people – what they bring out in us and what they see in us.

Oh, and then lastly, how can I forget! I want to do a shoutout to my children. My son, Nick, is 25 and my daughter, Summer, is 21. And they really know and understand me better than anybody else and they are so supportive. Ja, they just…. I’m really in a very, very good space with my children and it’s wonderful to see how they have internalised some of the messages that I’ve tried to live my life with… you know, like authenticity and speaking your truth, etc. So, big shoutout to them as well.  

                                            
                                                                     Nick & Summer, March 2020

 

Woman Zone - Finding Herself - Podcast interview - Part 2 of 4

TRANSCRIPT OF WOMAN ZONE INTERVIEW WITH TRUDY RUSHIN, PART OF ‘FINDING HERSELF’ PODCAST SERIES (DEC. 2020)

INTERVIEWER: THERESA SMITH

·         So – who or what has stood in your way, on this journey?

TRUDY: You know, I’m hesitant to blame anybody. I would say the things that hold me back, typically, are linked to my socialisation.  So I would say it’s myself – it’s all inside of me. Where… we weren’t raised to shine, as weird as that sounds – even though your parents always wanted the best for you. You sort of got the idea that other people excelled and you did what you had to do. And there was a bit of “hou jouself plat” … you know…. “hou vir jou plat”, in the socialisation. And I’m not saying this to blame, you know, parents. Parents do they best that they can. Those messages, man, of like, “Who do you think you are? “ You know? Which was completely different to how my mother lived her life, you know, as this opera singer on stage. 

So, who stood in my way? I would say a lot of those messages of “be a good girl”, “follow the rules”, “do the right thing”, made me focus so much on being compliant. Ja, I often didn’t see the bigger picture that other people may have seen. And I … I would say I plodded along and I also think things that stood in my way, along the same lines, like my socialisation, made me blind to the darker side of life. So I was often quite unsuspecting when weird people came into my life.  Er… I wasn’t prepared for people who were not ... like… nice and wanting the best for everyone one else, you know.

 ·         I have to wonder, though, how much of that is broader society and like kind of, you know, how our world works and how much of that is family, because we are related, so I know that a lot of  that is how our family actually works. We have these people who are talented and amazing, and yet the general feeling and way of behaving in the family is to sort of like, you know, “hou jouself in”. This thing of us shining or trying to overshine  someone is like, No, that’s rude!

TRUDY: And in fact the converse ends up happening. And I think – and I don’t know if it’s because you and I are both Virgo – but I find that a lot of what I do in my life is provide a platform for others … to shine.  And somehow that brings me joy – enabling people to reach their potential.

·         Well, that explains why there are so many teachers in our family.

TRUDY: Ja! (Laughs) Exactly!  And really, it’s… it is a calling and it is something that, whether you are in a classroom or not, that ability or that love for showing people the way, showing them how to maximise what’s inside of them, I think it’s … it’s a gift. And it’s a calling… you know you can’t run away from it; you can’t switch it off.

 ·         So, then conversely – who opened doors for you? What opened those doors for you?

TRUDY:  So there’s a theme, a thread throughout all of this, which is: I often don’t see – and maybe again it’s a universal thing, and maybe it’s very much a woman thing – I often don’t see what other people see in me. And you know that, when you asked me about the interview, my first thought was like, “Whaaaat?” Like, you know, maybe I should recommend somebody else. But it’s always that kind of… we don’t see it ... you know, we don’t see ourselves the way others do, so who or what opened doors for me -  it was always someone else giving me an opportunity. When I taught at primary school, I was given an opportunity to become Head of Department.  I would never have gone for that, because I didn’t see myself in that way. When I moved out of teaching in the state system, I taught TEFL – Teaching English As A Foreign Language. The owner of one of the schools I taught at gave me so many opportunities, you know, so that I could go up in the ranks and move into management. They spotted leadership qualities in me which I just took for granted. You know, you always think that everyone is capable in the way that you are, but more so.

And then I would say, musically - definitely the musicians I’ve worked with. Ja, the first person I worked with professionally in music was Eddie Petersen.  He now lives abroad, in Australia, I think, or New Zealand.  We worked together for… I don’t know if it was two years… but that was the first time I actually played on a regular basis with someone, went to rehearsals, etc. And we got gigs where we got paid and were hired for a long stint at different places … and that was fun, it was new, it was interesting. And at that stage, I wasn’t playing my guitar at the gigs. I was the vocalist, so I was the … you know how these typical band things are, where the men play the instruments and the woman stands in front and sings. (Theresa: The eye candy, ja!)

At that stage, I was … I fitted into that category. And then later on, I …. I took a break from gigging when I got married. And when I came back into performing, I decided that I needed to do it on my own terms. I think I’d grown up a bit. And when I came back into performing, I wanted to be part of a duo, and I formed a duo with Keith Tabisher, a friend of mine from high school. And that was in 2003 and we still play together – we still work together. And Keith comes from a classical music background, as well as jazz. And he is extremely versatile - he’s an educator, he’s a youth developer in his community. I’ve learnt so much from him. I love making music with him, and we hope that’s going to carry on for a long time.

                                 Keith Tabisher and I, at a wedding in 2013/ Photo: Shireen Louw 

A few years later, I met another guitarist who made a big impression on me, and that was Wayne Bosch. But Eddie, Keith Tabisher, Wayne Bosch – ja, those are three of the main people who opened doors for me, musically. And I will talk about others later.

                                             Wayne Bosch & I at St George's Cathedral, 2018

                                                                 Photo: Gregory Franz              

  

Woman Zone - Finding Herself - Podcast Interview - Part 1 of 4

 TRANSCRIPT OF WOMAN ZONE INTERVIEW WITH TRUDY RUSHIN, PART OF ‘FINDING HERSELF’ PODCAST SERIES (DEC. 2020)

INTERVIEWER: THERESA SMITH

GENERAL INTRODUCTION BY NANCY RICHARDS:

Finding Herself- sharing the journey. With music by Trudy Rushin and technical support by Wayne Van de Bergh.  This episode has been kindly sponsored by Cape Midwife Natural Birth – believe in yourself.

INTRODUCTION OF GUEST, BY THERESA SMITH

That lovely voice you just heard, that provides the introduction to this Woman Zone Finding Herself series, is that of Trudy Rushin – singer, songwriter, philanthropist, teacher, feminist.  The daughter of Eoan Group opera singer, May Abrahamse, never set out to follow in her mother’s footsteps, but as relationships, children and basically life happened, she learnt to love the process and became more confident in her own musical abilities.

·         I am Theresa Smith of Woman Zone and I asked Trudy what is the difference between how she defines who she is and what she does.

TRUDY: There’s definitely a difference, because I think who you are is always true – is true for all time – but what you do is … circumstantial? Or it can be related to a job you have at a particular time.  So, how I define who I am – I would say I’m a South African woman, a feminist, a mother, a musician, a writer, an educator and a communicator. And if I were to place myself anywhere politically, I would say I’m a socialist.

What I do, as I said that … that’s often linked to one’s job. Ja, so that changes. So who I am is sort of like the foundation of everything that I do, you know?

 ·         What did you hope or plan to be when people first started asking you that question? You know - like, “What you gonna be when you grow up?”

TRUDY: My mother says that when I was a little child and they asked me that, I would say I wanted to be a mother – or a “mommy”- and a teacher. And I suppose you could say I have achieved my goal (giggles) – goals.

You know, I actually, I’ve been looking through … you, know, thinking about these things, and so on – I don’t think I’m ambitious, in the normal use of the word. It’s partly my personality – mainly my personality – and partly circumstantial. Having said as much, I definitely am a goal setter: I set goals, but I think I’m one of those people who love the process as much as I love achieving the goal, so … but I’m not ambitious in a way where I can say, “I plotted my career.” It was more like, I was open to what life sent my way.   

 ·         But you … you had this idea of becoming a teacher, which I know you did end up doing, but you never ever set the goal for yourself: I’m going to be a musician, like my mother. And yet you are a musician now.

TRUDY: Ja ….. that is one of the ways in which that like being open to what life sent my way manifested. When I look back now, music has been my parallel career, no matter what I’ve done. You know it… the music has always been there. And I’ve tended to not see myself as a musician, because people define you according to your day job, but that’s been the constant, you know.

 ·         How did that journey - that musical journey – how did that actually start?

TRUDY: Well when I was six years old, apparently I loved singing then already, because my teacher made me stand on a table and sing for the School Inspectress.  I was at Laerskool Heideveld, for the first six months of my primary school life, and the song was “Ek Doen Dit Als Vir Jesus”. Singing, at age six, standing on the table, for this teacher who wanted to show you off to the Inspectress, and then singing in Afrikaans, which was not my mother tongue – it must’ve been cute, but I think I was terrified.

You know, as children, we took piano lessons, like most people - you know … from our community -  did, but in my teens I started playing the guitar and that started the real journey for me. Ja, the guitar is my instrument of choice and that’s been my… like my baby, all these years. 

 

Nassau Hall, Newlands, Cape Town

Photo: Gregory Franz

Staying alive - Lockdown Day 329

Having taken to crocheting as a way of getting through the Covid-19 pandemic, I’ve consumed a lot more media than before, because I watch online media while I crochet. It passes the time, entertains me and sometimes – depending on what I watch - educates and inspires me.

Last week, I watched a Brené Brown documentary on Netflix, called The Call to Courage.  One of the things she said was, “I get so busy, sometimes, chasing the extraordinary moments that I don’t pay attention to the ordinary moments – the moments that, if taken away, I would miss more than anything.”

Firstly, you should know that when I watch a documentary, I have my journal and pen at hand, to jot down things that make an impression on me. This was one of those things.

I started nodding and thinking about the ways in which this topic had been presenting, recently. On a personal level, it’s when my children - now in their 20s - talk about their childhood memories: the things they remember with love (and often laughter) are the everyday things - the family routines, the skew fringe cuts I gave them, the delicious chocolate cakes at every birthday that were made with a ready-made cake-mix, the songs we sang at bedtime, the music we played in the car, the way they fought over who’d sit in the front passenger seat until we came up with a system…. The best memories are of the ordinary moments. Yes, the extraordinary moments do form part of our memories, but without them we wouldn’t remember our lives any less richly.

If I think about my own childhood, I remember my mom sitting in bed, memorising arias for a stage performance, or sing-alongs around the family piano, when we lived in Durban. I remember, at age six, going to my first day of primary school, feeling bereft when my sister had to go to her class, and being shocked that my teacher had a huge, maroon manila envelope with my name on it. How did she know my name?! :-) Other Durban memories (age 6 and a half to 11) include going to our church’s youth club and making tie-dye T-shirts with a young, vibey youth leader, picking green mangoes and eating them with a mixture of curry powder and salt, and regularly walking to the local swimming pool, about one and a half kilometres away, with a bunch of neighbourhood kids. I remember attention being given to my accent when we were new in Durban and again when we returned to Cape Town, four and a half years later.

Yes, I could probably write a whole blog about the extraordinary moments, but the point is they fall into a different category for a reason: they are rare and we often only became aware of them as extraordinary in hindsight.

Another thing that was triggered for me about ordinary moments was the way in which people acknowledge deceased loved ones. During this pandemic, we have all experienced more deaths than at any other time – whether people we knew directly or the loved ones of people we know. On a daily basis, we read messages on social media of yet another person who has succumbed to the virus. (In fact, over the festive season, I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I went off Facebook for a while.) And yes, sometimes people do indeed write about the extraordinary accomplishments of their deceased relatives, but most of the time the memories shared are of the ways in which the person touched others’ lives through everyday acts of kindness, words of wisdom or just their general capacity to include and accept everyone. Sometimes it’s about the food the person cooked, or their favourite flowers.  

One of the things I’ve been working on, probably for more years than I’d like to admit, is to stop comparing myself with others. I am unique. You are unique. We don’t have to look like each other, be interested in the same things or be good at the same things. I hate it when my uniqueness is found unacceptable because I don’t subscribe to a certain assumed norm. Imagine how peaceful, courageous, creative and happy we’d be if we accepted ourselves fully, without focussing on the bits we’re told should be more this or less that? Oprah once said something like this: “Why are women always shoulding all over themselves?” Funny, but true. There’s a context, of course - men don’t have half the prescriptions placed on them that women do, both in the workplace and in broader society.

I am unique, and perfectly acceptable with all my flaws. I know the theory so well. But we live in a world that bombards us with messages that equate success with being not just “better than”, but “the best”. If we’re not running our own companies and employing loads of people by a certain age, or haven’t written a book, or haven’t appeared in a magazine, or are actually showing visible signs of ageing after being alive almost 60 years, we’re somehow lacking. But you know what? Sometimes success is a lot less glamorous than what we’re encouraged to believe. Sometimes it’s choosing to stay alive and keep living your truth, despite successive traumatic experiences. Or staying in your not-dream job, because you have a family to support. Or being able to pay your rent for an entire year, without defaulting once. Or being a loyal friend, in a world where trust is easily broken and deception has become the norm. For some people, plagued by depression and anxiety, success can be just getting out of bed, taking a shower and facing another day.     

And so, on Lockdown Day 329 (in South Africa) of this unusual and devastating time in our lives, I’m going to continue following the safety regulations and trying to avoid contracting the virus. At the same time, I will continue trying to function optimally in the different parts of my life. But I can assure you that, whenever I’m not “on duty”, as either an employee or someone who runs a home, with all that that entails, I will most probably be sitting somewhere, on my own, either playing my guitar or crocheting and watching something. Keeping it simple. Keeping it real. Keeping it creative. Staying alive and sane, during a pandemic.

Right now, more than ever, it's the ordinary things that are keeping me going - one day at a time, one song at a time, one crocheted row at a time, one blanket at a time. This makes sense to me. This brings me joy. 

As long as you do no harm to yourself, to anyone else, or to Mother Nature, do whatever makes sense to you. 

It’s not a competition.     

Recovering - Lockdown Day 318

I'm recovering from a bout of illness that started on the evening of Friday 29 January. It became so severe, with a series of symptoms that looked so much like Covid-19, that a week later I ended up going for a test. Fortunately, about 25 hours later, I got a negative test result. Still taking meds to address the symptoms, some of which have abated, I can only conclude that I had stomach flu, which progressed to normal flu.

The thing is - I can't remember ever feeling that sick. Either my memory's failing me, or I really have just experienced the harshest bout of flu I've ever had. I was so weak, that I just lay in bed for days. In the first few days, I didn't even have energy to crochet, or play my guitar - things I would typically do if I was bedridden for any reason. I basically watched movies and journalled. When I was dealing with the stomach flu, I ate such a restricted diet, that I lost about two kilos in 4 days - which was alarming and extremely draining. I had been watching my diet before, and had been losing about 400g a week, which was fine. Losing weight rapidly when you're sick is not fine, by any means. You feel wrong. 

The thing is that, almost a year after Covid-19 hit our shores, and now that we've just had a very scary and tragic second wave, when you suspect you've contracted the virus, you have very dark thoughts. No matter how high the recovery rate in our country may be (currently, 89%), I still kept thinking about the people I knew who had died from the disease and how shocked their families had been at the speed at which the disease had taken their loved ones. 

My daughter remarked how differently I'd handled this test to the one I'd had in June/July last year. Then, I'd been sharing every thought in my head on Facebook, and I'd basically announced on Fb that I'd had the test, they all knew it took ten days for the results to reach me and all received the announcement that the test had been negative.  This time, I told my immediate family and a few close friends and colleagues that I was sick and kept them informed about the test and the results.  

I had a lot of time to think, last week. A lot of time to re-evaluate my choices and to challenge myself to live the rest of my life unapologetically, with a greater sense of the value I add wherever I am. I came across some inspiring quotes, on the internet, and took them to heart. Movies I watched filled me with a deep sense of the power of women to step out into the world and make a significant difference, doing what brings them joy.

Today, I'm still taking meds, but I can feel my symptoms receding, in response. I'm grateful to my close friends who gave me advice and basically buoyed me, when I was feeling extremely sick and low in spirit. I'm grateful to my children, one of whom lives with me. They are incredibly supportive and compassionate beings who fill my soul with a sense of pride and accomplishment - because of the adults they've  grown into.

Interestingly, one of my greatest worries, when I thought I had Covid, was how it would impact on my daughter. She's in her final year at college and for most of last year had to do her courses remotely. The nett effect was that she feels like she missed a year. I can see how important this year is to her and I hated the thought of my sickness causing her to isolate and miss more college time. Anyway, for now that's not necessary. 

Another weird thing about when I got sick was that that day I'd had a one-on-one training session with my fitness coach (I usually train in a small group) and had done a particularly hard workout, which had made me feel ecstatic about my steadily increasing fitness. I journalled that night about my running goals and how I could see myself getting there, with regular training, a goal-oriented mindset and a sensible diet. And then, later that night, my stomach turned inside out and my world upside down. 

Anyway ...... I'm well on the road to recovery. Tomorrow I'll resume work - from my lounge, at home - and start wrapping my head around whatever I missed out on last week. 

Oh, another very interesting thing, which I can only attribute to a healthier state of mind than before (or maybe just the clearer perspective of a 59-year-old): I did NOT feel guilty about taking sick leave. In the corporate world, there's a tacit understanding that, when you're off sick, you'll be checking and replying to work emails, and maintaining some kind of involvement in your work tasks. I was literally too sick to think about anything other than taking my next meds, forcing myself to eat the next bland meal, drinking enough fluids and getting well again.  That was progress, for me. You don't need to apologise when you get sick and have to miss work. You are human. Humans get sick. Employment contracts make allowance for that. Stop feeling guilty about everything. (Me talking to myself.)    

Today I have a whole day alone at home. I'm about to take meds and get back into bed. I am now busy crocheting a blanket which I will donate to the 67 Blankets for Mandela Project. The idea was to use leftover wool, but I love symmetry so much, I can see myself going to buy a few more balls of the colours I've started with. This is the 6th blanket I've done since lockdown started, and I'm very happy to have reconnected with this side of myself.  I suppose you could say I'm hooked. 😉     

                   An original drawing given to me by my friend, Sass Schultz, many years ago. ❤