image credit @aimeludick
I've been dreading this all week, but here they come. The anniversaries from last year are here and I'm dealing with them one by one. @zakludick has taken so much of my pain and grief onto his shoulders, and I'd love to say I'm making really positive changes and some miracle has happened in my brain where everything is ok now.. I mean, surely a year is enough to grieve, right?
The loss of 80%use of my left knee, the loss of my father, the loss of our family cat and the loss of my uncle, all topped with the loss of my job, it certainly was a clusterfuck of a year.
The truth is, you can't put a time limit on grief. It comes and goes when it pleases and it's never convenient. It hits you while you're driving, in the middle of the supermarket, or on your way to fetch your anxiety medication. It can hit you during a movie, a song, or the smell of the ocean. Anything can trigger it.
My mother lost her father when she was just 19 years old. He had a heart attack on the beach. He was only in his forties/ early 50s. She and my grandmother never stopped mourning his passing.
My grandmother lost her father while her mother was still pregnant with her in 1918 to the Spanish Flu outbreak, leaving her mother to raise 5 children. Being a single mom in that time was something else altogether. She was a strong and stern woman, but imparted love and wisdom onto my grandmother that she passed on to me. Great Granny Henning continued to run the farm and raise her children, growing orchards of fruit and working incredibly hard.
My mother divorced my father when I was 9 and worked herself to the bone to try to raise my sister and I.
The generational curse passed down? Needing to be a perfect mother, and never asking for help.
On my Dad's side, his mother and her family were kind, affectionate, and loving, while his father's side was judgemental and cold and void of affection. His father also expected perfectionism from his children, even though, from what I have learned from family over the last year, Grandfather Vic Mobey was a hard man and none of his children ever felt like they were good enough.
Of course, for both sides of the family, in those times, seeking professional help was heavily stigmatized and left so many of my aunts uncles, and my own parents with deep emotional scars. And untreated mental health issues.
So it is the anniversary of my father's death, and while I am not sure how I feel emotionally... I know I'm exhausted from morning, so I feel somewhat numb today...
But I am writing a very special book on teenage self-esteem and self -confidence and I'm busy with a section on how failure is not the end and mistakes are golden opportunities for growth.
I wish someone had told me that when I was growing up. I remember how hard my sister was on herself as a ballerina, how hard my gran was on us about our physical appearance (leading me to annorexia) and how my dad never pursued his musical career, despite his incredible talent and perfect pitch. You could place any instrument in front of him and he would be able to play it. But when he was playing for us at family braais, or at causal shows, he would stop dead in the middle of a song and put his guitar down if he made a mistake. I also clearly remember his words: "If you can't perform perfectly, get off the stage" and if you can't sing in perfect pitch, just don't sing at all." His expectations were also passed to me and contributed to me giving up on my musical dreams after developing crippling stage fright in my teens. When I first started performing with @jasperdick in 2021, it was extremely hard to fight through it, but I kept getting up, knowing how empty it made me feel to not have music in my life. "Feel the fear and do it anyway," right?
A strange thing happened after my father died though...
My stage fright died with him.
So on this day, the anniversary of your death, Dad, I'd like to thank you for showing me what it looks like when you give up because you aren't perfect.
Perfection never mattered. Connection did. And it is connection that motivates all my music. The happy, angry and the sad songs. The hopeful ones too.
I am sorry Dad, that you felt you were never good enough... because you were. And I hope, Somehow I make you proud every time I get up there. I will keep getting up there and singing my heart out until I die. That is my promise to you.
Aside from the sad memories, or scary ones, I have also been blessed to continue to perform with Jasper at some incredible venues and with some amazingly talented people, make some new and wonderful musical friends, have adventures, and get re-involved in charity work. Many of these opportunities came along by surprise. And I think that just goes to show, that no matter what is going on in your life, you don't know what is waiting around the next corner. It's never too late to follow your dreams and quitting is not an option <3
oh wow! Thank you @thekittygirl and @innerblocks for stopping by and appreciating my post! It means a lot <3
Wow! What an album of photos!
I love you so much!
I love you too my babe <3
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