Temporary space

I'm not dead, don't worry :) Find me at my temporary haven on Facebook: Crazy in Siusega.

People watching fix

I love people watching. It may possibly be one of my favorite pastimes, right up there next to 48 hour sleeps and self pity rants.

Living temporarily here in Auckland, I frequent the mall a lot. And while my mother (who has accompanied me on my medical 'pilgrimage', because every 33 year old adult needs their mother to rub their back while retching copiously in the hospital bathroom) spends hours inside SpecSavers trying to get a refund on a pair of eyeglasses she bought 5 years ago from them and is now faulty (because of her cataracts and not the eyeglasses), I sit outside on one of those couches, and people watch. And laugh inwardly at how people dress and look. You know, because I'm so hot and perfect.

Some interesting observations:
- Everyone is wearing some sort of closed shoes. Because it's winter obviously. I am the only dumbass wearing seevae kosokoso, because I'm staunch like that (and can't find closed shoes in my size 13)
- There are so many couples below 25 with babies. Some with more than one baby. Good Lord. Babies raising babies.
- Clearly the parents don't work, since they're walking around the mall during the day. And shopping even. And not just at the below 12 items counter, we're talking major shopping. For clothes and random shet like that. Life on the benefit is good.
- If you're looking to bump into someone you know, or worse, a relative, Manukau mall is the place to hang yo. I met two cousins, a neighbor from Samoa, and some people I know (from Club X).
- The level of obesity here is alarming. And all islanders, may I add. Probably all Samoan. No love for their bodies, and women more than men. Maccas needs to stop those $1 coke floats and Pizza Hutt and their $5 pizzas. Shucks. It's scary. Even scarier is watching them not give a damn about their weight and focus the attention on their faces and hair - heavy mascara, pouty lips, hair permanently damaged straightened. Girl, you fat. No amount of foundation will hide that.

Thank you for tuning in to people watching from South Auckland. Now excuse me while I put on my beanie and go to catch the 471 to Manurewa. Yeh bro.

Death sucks balls

My next post was supposed to be about death. But we've done the whole death topic to...well, to death, no pun intended.

So all I want to say about that is make every moment count. You could die today, tomorrow, any freaking time. Express your love, gratitude and say everything you need to say all the time every time.

My heart goes out to my friend who lost her husband last week. Life sucks inexplicably when you lose your best friend, your rock, the father of your young children. I wouldn't know (obviously). I just know that their hearts are broken. And nobody deserves that, least of all those poor girls who don't understand where their daddy has gone.

Farkbook, yes I'm still ranting

Since I became a hermit, I've retreated further away from Fugbook.

I mean, it's bloody Days of Our Lives on there. I can't deal half the time. When you're miserable, the last thing you want to know is how perfect someone else's life is, how good looking you are in your filtered selfie, how smart their kids are, overachieving little shets, how avidly they go to zumba, and just got promoted.

Here's how it goes. You put up a post and say "Feeling great, today is the best day ever!" which just begs people to ask, "What happened?" and you pretend to ignore the questions until someone who does know what happened says "Congrats on your promotion sis!" and then everyone jumps in, while you're preening away. Felicitations. You got people to congratulate you without directly telling the world what happened.

Or "Attending the 12th UN Negotiations on Climate Change blah blah blah in New York, and then on my way to Bangkok enroute back to Samoa". Shucks. So your job has the best perks. Fuck you too.

Or "My son came home today with a certificate for Best All Round Student this week". So your son was good this week. My son was good all year, but you don't see me posting up about it.

Clearly I have some issues. The solution is, log out. Nobody is going to change because I'm jealous. If anything, half the reason why these posts exist is to make us jealous. And like a moth to the flame...

When life gets hard, suck it up

While contemplating my navel sometime last week in my spare time, like, all day, I was thinking. When life gets hard, you have three things. God, family and friends.

Well let me break it down.

God and I, we have a love hate relationship. We go through phases of being really tight, to not speaking to each other. Mostly him not speaking to me. Or answering my fervent prayers to win the lotto and find the cure for cancer. Recently it's been extra up and down. I go through days shaking my fist at the sky and asking "why me Lord?!" and questioning my existence and how come they are happy and have all the material things I aspire to have and, well, never get. Like, ever. Tough luck, God says, remember the children in Somalia.

My family I think are sick of me. Sick of me being useless and semi-functional as a human being for months. The children are growing up despite their mum being a shit. The parents grow more feeble and luckily have other children to look after them because their daughter is too self-involved right now. But even so, they still ask if I'm ok, do I need anything, food, extra painkillers, a gift voucher to the local spa and for gods sakes get your face waxed.

Friends, I have never been in shortage of. At some point I became too sick to be much of a social creature. That right there eliminated half of my friends. Ha! Take away drinks in a club and pwfffttttt, I become but a distant memory of someone they used to share vodka tonics with. I don't care much about that, which is of course why I am harping on about it. What I do care about is one or two friends I used to be close to once upon a time, who know I am sick, and dont bother to reach out. I like to think that if a close friend of mine was in a bit of strife, I would be around, you know. Dunno, maybe I'm just being dramatic. Or my measure of a friendship is different from theirs. Nevertheless, this illness has taught me to be grateful for what I have. And I still have a wonderful bunch of friends who care immensely, to the point of smothering, and I love them to bits. So stop feeling sorry for yourself.

That ends Throwback Last Week Tuesday Navel Contemplation. Tune in for more self pity posts.

Still here, sorta

I haven't blogged in months. Duh. I've been out there, like, you know, existing.

So to catch up - I've been in a lot of shit. As in wading through shit trying to catch a break. I went to NZ in May for medical treatment. Returned home, semi-cured, depressed as hell, and left my job. Spent my days half alive, hating on everybody, offspring included, and most of all, broke.

Few months later, am back in NZ for more medical treatment. This is becoming a real drag, and really affecting my ability to focus on candy crush soda. And it's cold. Which means my body is hidden under countless layers of jumpers, sweaters and scarves. Scarfs? Meanwhile I am making sure I eat everything I see, and telling myself I haven't gained a pound. Until I go to take a shower and have to take off the layers and discover, holy shit, there's an extra 20kgs on my ass. Excuse me while I inhale another burger cos it's 1/2 price today cos Burger King is sponsoring Joseph Parker's fight.

So yeah, that's me yo. Back to blog for a limited time only.

Lotto lunika!

So yesterday I got an FB message from an in-law living in the US of A.

Her - "Sis I have such good news!"
Me - "Omg you got your green card?" (after overstaying for 15 years)
Her - "No sis, I won $100,000 in the world international lottery"
Me - "A'a."
Hacked?
Me - "Suga e moi ea ga mea?"
Her - "E moni lava. I thought it was a scam until I got the money delivered to my front door. And sis, I saw the list and your name was on it too!"
Me (disbelieving but already planning what to do with the money) - "Seriously?! Tell me the details!"
Her - "Ia sei uma le pisi send atu."

And that was the end of the conversation, no more respondez from my in-law.

Even after googling world international lottery, and seeing it was a scam, I thought MAYBE it's true, because she was speaking to me in Samoan, and sounded like my sister in law. And why would the bitch lie to me? (ok let me count the reasons lol)

So I went to bed dreaming of cake shops, and trips to Italy.

And woke up this morning to a post from my sister in law.

"I've been hacked! Please beware, the hacker even speaks Samoan."

Kae.

My father's relatives

I live with my parents. My father is a chief in his village(s). He ran for the elections once or twice. As a result, people from his village (and the neighbouring 10 villages) know (of) him and where he lives, and think that because he spent money during his campaign (and sold Tino's 1/4 acre inheritance to fund it) and that he's a doctor and lives in a big (dilapidated) house, he has money.

What they don't know is that my father is now 84 years old. He hasn't worked for years. He gets a weekly stipend from his children and wife to buy his lotto, fill up his car, get his hair cut, and buy some more lotto. He has no income of his own. He asks his grandkids for money. They are all below 9 years old. So when random bottom of the food chain shits rock up the house asking for money for this faalavelave and that, don't expect me to come running with a cup of tea and a biscuit, or open my purse.

What they also don't know is my father's memory is failing. So when they say they are the children of Leilua Galo's cousin's neighbour's uncle, my father nods and smiles and says "Ioe ouke iloa lou kama" when in actual fact, he has no idea and can't even recall what he had for breakfast two hours earlier.

What they most certainly don't know is that I have a good memory if my father does not. And I remember clearly that these were the same assholes who camped at our house on the eve of the election, and then voted for the opposition and were nowhere to be seen once the votes were in. So when they come to ask for money, and my father turns to me, and I say (fuck off) "sorry leai se tupe".

Even his own close blood relatives come knocking to ask for money. These are the ones who know he's old, know he has no money, know he's nearing dementia, and still have the nerve to ask.

But once in a while, my father will get a visit from a nephew or a niece from overseas or from down the road. A visit purely for the sake of seeing their only living uncle, to see how he is doing, perhaps push a $100 tala note in his hand, bring him faiai aku and a piece of taro, and retell old memories to make him laugh. These are the relatives I will gladly bring out the kettle and make tea for. These are the relatives who restore my faith in humanity. I wish for more relatives like this. And I make a mental note to visit my older relatives and do the same.

Live life, just because dude

I've never thought much about dying, except that if it happens it'll probably be from drowning because I can't swim. Shuddup. Now, on thinking more soberly about it, I would like to die peacefully in my sleep. With my 3 teddy bears around me. And a glass of vodka within arms reach. And a priest. And all my exes living in Texas. Ha! 

So, whilst soul searching (and bawling my eyes out) this past weekend, I came across a few life lessons I need to heed before kicking the bucket:

Tell your kids you love them. Every damn day. Sure, yell at them, beat them up, but don't let the sun go down without drying their tears and telling them they're the best thing that ever happened in your life. Seconded only by a double whopper. 

Stop talking shit. Or limit the shit you talk about. Story of my life. I wonder if they talk shit in heaven. "Eh Pika, ga e faalogo i se kala ia Sakaio ma Malia, oka se paumumuku o lea keige." "Ae sei e vaai la ile ofu a Naomi ga fai ile loku agagafi, ua magaku ifo a ua akoa." Where does it get us? Nowhere. They're still richer, more successful, have prettier babies, and happily married, and don't give a rat's ass what you're talking about. 

Work hard. Reap the rewards. Feel good about yourself afterwards. 

Feed your kids the right food. I thought I could give the girls anything and they would grow up with unblemished complexions and healthy hair and pretty white teeth. Well guess what, you actually have to work at it. Fruits and veggies actually work! And saves you a load of visits to the doctor cos your kids have shitty immune systems from all 10 boiled eggs they eat every day. 

Get your hair did more often, girrrrl. You never know when you might be walking in town and meet the man of your dreams. And his beautiful wife. And walk away knowing you look good. While you're dying a little inside. But you looked good ;) 

Take the kids out. Maccas drive through does NOT count. And don't whinge and say "ohhh if only Samoa was like NZ, I could take the kids to the park, or to mini golf, or biking up the hill, there is like nothang to do over here!". Girl there is a mini golf place across the road from your house. And a beach 30 mins away. And a seawall in town for them to ride their bikes. And for gods sake teach them how to ride their bikes. 

Be a real friend. That means calling your friends up every now and then and ask how they're doing. They could be going through some real shit and have nobody to talk to, and can't reach out because they're too proud. Or whatever. Ok stop talking about yourself. Go out for lunch with your friends. A simple text to say hi. Like their post on FB to know you're still there. And if you don't like what they did last summer, tell them, instead of talking shit about it to other people, or worse, judging them. Wait no talking shit is worse. Whatever it is, stand by your friends man. 

In a nutshell, grab life by the balls and don't take anything for granted. You never know when it could all be taken away from you. 

Ehhh ka fefe i filosofia a Velovaary. 

Everything is awesome

The kids sing this constantly. "Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you're part of the team!" I wish I had that kinda positivity in my life.

Well - on the bright side of awesomeness -

I am still alive. And breathing.

My girls are awesome. They keep me grounded. They remind me to buy their stationery, comb their hair, feed them. They really deserve a better mum, but their standards are pretty low and they think I am like the coolest mum everrrrr.

Oreo Cheesecake Chocolate Cake. Never try any other cake after you've had this one. It's amazeballs.

I can't think of anything else that's awesome right now so we'll move right along to the dark side of shitty -

I've been diagnosed with something serious. And noooo it's not HIV. But it's life threatening. No need for details. I've had a lot of seeing my "life flashing before my eyes" moments since. Funny how all of a sudden, priorities change and you want to do either one of two things - grab life by the balls, or curl up in a corner and cry for days. I think I'm in the middle somewhere. Have an operation scheduled this month in NZ, so fingers and legs crossed I will still be around to make fun of you behind your back in the near future :)

The kids' grandmother is not speaking to me. Over something trivial like I answered back to her when she yelled at me, oh NO I DIDN'T! Yes I did. So things are pretty bleak in the Cold War at present.

Yeeeah. That's about it. I really need to start writing about something more important than myself. Next time mate next time.

Third world school problems

School's back on for the brats. Yay. All 3 are now in primary school. How time flies thank you jesus. No more sleepless nights (on account of a hungry infant). No more driving across town looking for a specific S26 Gold formula. No more buying cheap diapers and then hiding them piko i lalo o le trolley so when I meet rich mothers gliding by with their box of Huggies, I don't get a disdainful look of "Soft Love. Eww."

Instead, all that has been replaced by school uniforms, bags, drink bottles, stationery...my god no wonder Eveni and SSAB make a killing. Lunches! The bane of my existence. Why can't children be satisfied with bread and butter and water every day anymore? Kamaiki ua fia ai spaghetti and cheese toastie, with a muffin on the side, and lemonade, and a snack while they wait to be picked up after school. Oh hell nurr! Bread, butter, jam (sometimes), an apple (if they're lucky) and water. Pugi.

Hello 2015

Is it January already?

Quiet holiday season.
Work was shet. My boss was being a grinch. Other workers continue to power trip.
The sitter went home for the holidays. I was left with 3 hyperactive children, 2 parents who needed something done every 10 seconds, and a pile of laundry which filled the garage and half the driveway.
Then I had cake orders. Much as I despised them, heck I needed the money for the kids' gifts. And the size 4 pua'a that dad gifted to himself paid for by his children. Yaye.
Two straight weeks of this shit, and now I'm sick. Chest infection or something. Bleh. Keige gei e le malolo for some infection. Keige gei faakoa malolo pe a kuu ile pu.

New Years resolutions:

Be more mentally stable. How, I don't know. But for fuck's sake enough crying.
Be a better mom. Stop beating them up.
Be a better daughter. Stop being defensive every time they judge you for coming home at 4am. You are after all still living in their house.
Be a better child of God. Go to church.
Stop caring so much about the little things. It's the little things that fuck your brain up. Don't overthink things. You only hurt yourself, a la e happy a lakou ia.
Travel. Even if it's to Savaii. Get out of the damn house before you suffocate.
Stop stalking the girl crush. It isn't healthy. And petrol is expensive.
Get started on your goddamn book. Criticising everyone else who has written a book already doesn't fly. Have you written on your book? Ia pugi ma amaka loa.
Hate on work less. The more you fake enjoy it, the more productive you are. Never mind the egotistic masochistic and all other lunatics which surround you. Your traits are far worse lol.
Less mindspace on that guy. Ain't nobody got time.
Save. Money. Everything else is beyond redemption. Let's aim for a car this year.
Get pregnant. Whaaat?!

Ok. Sounds like a semi-achieveable NY's resolution. I'll revisit this in a few months, see where we are :)

We need you Mum!

Dear Mum,

Please hurry home. The following has happened since you left:

The SKY bill hasn't been paid. For someone so very organised, I am aghast that you forgot to pay for it. If you could please just wire the money through, I'll have it paid immediately.

We ran out of canned food. You must've taken the key to the pantry by mistake. I've tried unsuccessfully to open the door with a knife. We actually have had to BUY elegi, pisupo, saimin and toilet paper.

The grass is growing at a frighteningly fast rate. Well it has been raining heavily here. I don't know the number for the lawn mowing guy. Can you call him for me?

The kids miss you. At first they were happy to watch tv from morning till night. But now they're bored. They need someone to read to them. They don't like my reading, they say it sucks. "But grandma makes the cow sound BETTER than you." Oookayyy moving on before I backhand you.

These people from Dad's family came to see him. I told them you're both away, but they were already in the house before I could finish my sentence. They sat there expecting food, so I gave them some ripe bananas and unsweetened tea. That's all we had at the house at the time as I only got paid the following week. They left soon after sniffing the bananas and looking disgustedly at me.

And lastly, we miss you and your company. Honest!

Raining in Samunda

It's raining like a bitch over here. In Samoa it means a few things:

1. High number of babies that will be born 9 months from today. Possibly named Timuga, Matagi and Lolovaia.

2. A rise in sales for warm Vailima.

3. Lots of hot bread and koko samoa will be consumed.

4. Wet clothes will be ironed for work tomorrow.

5. The kids will be kept from school because a drop of rain could mean flu, and we don't have time and money for a doctor's visit and panadol.

6. If you do have money for the doc, your child is probably out in the puddle getting ringworm and all other sorts of shit.

7. Value Village second hand jumpers and cardigans are selling like hotcakes. And worn before being washed.

8. You wish you fixed your car window, and now have a shower curtain covering it from the rain.

9. You wish you had an air con car because its bloody hot in here, and you're tired of wiping the mist off the windshield with your hand.

10. You wish you brought a freakin umbrella because now you're stuck in your office writing this post and wondering how to run from the office to the bus stop 1 mile away.

Shit day #359652

Having a S.H.I.T day. Today trumps all shit days this year.

I seriously think there are jealous shets out there to get me. Is it because I'm pretty? I'm smart? I'm sleeping with your husband? Or your wife?? WHAT THE FARK IS IT. Well it's none of those, obviously lol kae.

Some stupid cow sent an email to my boss complaining about my unprofessionalism. Oh no you didn't. Initial reaction. To get in my car, drive over there and nail the bitch to a lamp post. But of course, I am not a violent person. Never hurt a fly. So I smiled, and explained to my boss what reeeeally happened, and not the over exaggerated twist she put on it. Of course my boss believes me. I think. Shet, does she? Maybe I walked out of her office and she moved my name up in her little black book. Or called someone to say "You're right I shouldn't have hired this dumbo."

Ok rant over. So inconsequential, compared to, say, the freakin crocodile cake the kid wants for her birthday tomorrow. And the box of chilly chocs she wants to go with it, for her class. Plus the barbie present. Tallying all this up, and...kefs.

That is all.

Rugby woes...can you blame them

So Manu Samoa 15s players threatening to go on strike and boycott their next game with England. They wrote a letter to IRB expressing their concerns over Samoa Rugby Union administration...or should I say "a series of misgivings" as one paper put it. Nothing in detail, but you can bet your Aunt Fanny it's to do with not enough pay, shortage of proper playing gear, receiving gear 10 minutes before games etc.

Never ending story this one. SRU is infamous for its atrocious governance. The place is a veritable sin city. They've been through a long line of administrators who've abused resources, drank on the job, and misappropriated funds. They say the latest CEO should not be blamed, he's a LAWYER. He actually has a DEGREE. So farking what. Does he have integrity? Does he have the balls to stand up for the players grievances? Or is he just another snivelling coward with his head so far up the SRU President's arse that he can't make a decision for himself? It's not just him though, he's really a scapegoat too for a lot of the more pressing problems within the SRU. Apparently the players insist that other big wigs in SRU need to go. That they're all corrupt. Yeah tell us something new.

So, a whole lot of expression of opinion on FB about this one. Many saying the players are stupid for making a stand, this is not the channel to air their grievances. Well pardon me, where else will they go? To the PM? Ha, that's a joke. He'll call them worse names than stupid and send them back to the plantation. Or wait, no, the players aren't local. That's for another post. Some say don't let your personal agendas become more important than the country you swore loyalty to. Agree, it makes Samoa as a whole look bad. But again, when will changes ever be made if they don't take it to an international level?

The fact of the matter is, the boys don't get paid near enough. $100 a week. That's TALA. A Yazaki worker earns more, and these boys are in training every single day of the week. They are supposed to support their families with a hundred bucks? Come on. 15s players in international games get more, but most of them play in clubs overseas and get triple, quadruple that. And they give it up to play for their country. Well I say their country needs to give a bit more instead of coaching from the comforts of their faleo'o and rubbishing the team when they don't win. They don't get their full gear. Yet there are gear sponsors...so where is the gear going? You tell me. God I could go on.

Bah. SRU deserves to be blasted in the media for being what they really are. A corrupt organisation full of old men with pipe dreams and a liking for pocketing sponsors money.

Play on boys.

10 things I wish I had known

Was just reading a random article on Huffpost Women, on the 10 things I wish I had known when I was 21.

1. Don't compare yourself to others. Really? I thrive (and break down) on comparing myself to others. All that rubbish on "don't measure yourself on other people's success" don't sit well with me. If she's (and I'm still talking about my woman crush here) got an MBA, I'm gonna make damn sure I get me a PhD. One of those ones you buy online. If she has model children with perfect teeth and smooth white skin, well I'm gonna find me a donor who can give me Aryan looking malnourished kids. Hey, I know someone who actually did that. Ok sidetracked. I can't help but compare myself to others. It's the driving force in my life. Bleh.

2. Don't feel like you have to have it all figured out. I never had this problem. I never figured out anything, and still haven't. And that is why I still live with my parents and wait for mum to cook me dinner. And pay the bills. And feed my kids.

3. Listen to your mom when she tells you that having more than five drinks a night is not healthy or normal. OMG she NEVER told me that! That makes me a little angry. I could have stopped the shameful nights of dancing on the table and sleeping with random men a long time ago if mum had told me. Not.

4. You can relax a little; you don't need to do it all. The thing is, I do need to do it all. Cos if I don't, who will? The never-ending saga of a single mom.

5. You're smart. Yes I is.

6. Don't straighten your hair or wear fake tanner every day. Not applicable to me. Obviously. Fai aku le meauli ae.

7. Enjoy young love because it's so sweet. But don't put everything on that relationship. Too late. I did. And see where that ended up. And then did it again. And same thing. I think I wanna be a lesbian.

8. Practice saying no. No. There, enough practice. If I had said no from the time I was 21 to now at 26, I would probably not had 2 of my 3 children, still working at BAT, and still a size 2. Aue'e.

9. Don't take your parents and family issues onto yourself. Tell that to a Samoan and good luck. Parents and family issues go hand in hand with breathing. You could try to separate them, but be sure you have a one way ticket somewhere faaaar.

10. Stop obsessing over guys. Claim your own self worth. I never obsessed over guys. They obsess over me. Uh huh. Pugi.

Fitness freakery

Samoa has been hit by ebola. Of sorts. Ebola of the fitness freaks. It's a serious disease which has struck almost every household, except mine, thank God we are all immune.

There's boot camp, circuit, tabata, zumba, mt vaea, palisi, paddling and all these other ebola strains going on. There's a shortage of ankle socks and knee length ladies tights as a result. And water. The blasted seawall is filled with these sick people walking, running, star jumping. I can't even have a leisurely drive and see the boats out yonder because of this bloody eyesore. Gym selfies. Please for the love of %#@*! stop.

Sao ai le makou housegirl "ia ua fafao fafao kou guku kou omai koe kolegi." Juhuuu!

Ia ga. Short story from a jealous fatso.

Eh ia I'm here

Didn't go anywhere. Just got caught up in umm life I suppose.

In short:

I turned 33 last month. In the words of Eduardo from that Filipino series which every Samoan and his dog fervently follows every Wednesday on TV1 at 9pm, "Oh My Gutt!" And summed up by this random song we all used to hear on 2AP back in 1983, "Ua sau le pogisa, aue ta lelava..." But on a positive note, I am still alive. Not many binge drinkers and chain smokers can say that. Ai a ua leva ga sosolo le cancer kokogu o le kigo a la e "I'm still alive!" Faapea le cancer "not for long, bitch." Ha!

The kids birthdays are coming up. Alofa mai seisi laka bank account please.

Two nights in a row, this has happened. Night 1- I felt something in my hair like a spider. I brushed it off, got up from the bed and saw a gigantic centipede. Fark. Night 2 - felt something crawling on my leg. Another gifarkingnormous centipede. Hmmm. It's a sign. A sign that great blessings are coming my way. Or...a sign that I need to stop sleeping on the farking floor. And buy more mortein. And on both occasions (Gigi and I sleep on the mattress on the floor), I jumped up and ran. And then came back cos I remember I had a sleeping child on the mattress. Yes, when in life-threatening situation, abandon all children and run.

I'm taking these pills for something. Not important what it is. The important thing is the bloody side effects. I'm depressed all the time. Suicidal sometimes. Crying constantly. Ok. Wait. That's the normal me. Seriously though. What the crap is happening to me. But it's ok - its making me blog lol that's gotta be something.

Have you ever been jealous of someone, like insanely jealous, and for no real valid reason? Yeah I'm going through that too. So there's this girl. She's more successful, killer job, perfect family husband and kids out of Women's Day, nice cars (yes that is very important to me), talks like she was born in a text book. Like literally talks with words I can't even pronounce, let alone spell correctly to type into google. And she's an academic. I see her every day and think goddammit I wanna be her. I want her smarts, her job, her money and her photogenic pretty kids. The husband, I can find a better one. But everything else, my gosh. I follow her on FB. And Instagram. And soon I'll be tailing her car in real life. I'm fast approaching stalker level. Help. If she was pretty, it could be understandable. But she's not, I'm like waaay prettier.

I don't know where that was going. I freak myself out just reading that.

I better take another antidepressant.

These moments she does not forget

Every year on that day she relives the hell. The torment knots inside her womb as she remembers. They say time heals all wounds. Bullshit. Whoever said that never went through pain the way she did. The way others like her did. Waking up empty and numb like a girl on crack. Time heals nothing. Mends nothing. The memories remain vivid etched in her mind, that no amount of therapy, alcohol, love and affection can erase.

When she became pregnant for the 4th time, all she could think was "shit, not another mouth to feed." She went through her pregnancy dragging her feet, thinking only of the hardships ahead. The fact that her youngest child couldn't even walk yet. Her marriage falling apart. What people would think. Later on, she would hate herself for these thoughts. Mind fuck herself over and over for not welcoming this beautiful gift. After 3 children, she became complacent. Doctor's check ups were few. She was sick more often, but neglected to look after herself and not that there was anyone else to look after her anyway. She choked it down. There was no time to be sick. That was for the weak.

Her doctor said she was fine, the picture of perfect health and an expecting mother. The child was healthy, heart beat was normal and she could look forward to a beautiful bouncy baby girl in a few months time. Slowly she attuned herself to expect that beautiful girl. She talked to her every day. Told her in no uncertain terms what she expected from her when she turned 18. What she knew she would look like. How she would bond her broken family together. How she would remind her mother to live.

She felt her child kick almost endlessly. Every waking moment the child reminded her that she was there with her. "See you soon Mummy," she said with every bump and kick. She couldn't for the life of her remember when she last felt her remind her that she was there. That she was coming. She was so busy with work, the other three children, that she forgot.

These moments she would relive. Feeling the pains of childbirth, her excitement soon punctured by the doctor telling her that there was no heartbeat. That the child was dead. When had she last felt her kick? When dammit when? These moments she would relive. That she would still have to deliver her baby. Her dead baby. These moments. Pushing her child out knowing the pain was for nothing, These moments when she felt God forsake her. When she held her lifeless perfect child in her arms, against her chest, still warm from her body, yet cold and soulless. Oh these moments she wanted to die. She wanted to stop the pain gushing through her like a burst pipe. Gripping her throat, choking, choking ever so slowly.

Three years later. She relives hell again. And prays that her Angel is in God's arms. That her Angel does not forget her. That her Angel forgives her for being complacent. For not accepting her in the beginning. For all the mistakes she made which could have possibly been the reason for her death.

She would never forget this day. But she prayed that perhaps one day, it wouldn't hurt so damn much.

Happy Birthday my sweet love.