Do you ever just sit at the tv, watching trailer after trailer, never actually selecting anything to watch? That's been me for the past half hour. I'll probably just end up watching something I've watched before. Something familiar. Something that doesn't require too much commitment. Most shows these days are too clever, too deep, too esoteric, too shocking, too everything for me. Just give me something simple to space out in front of. Entertaining but not taxing, and definitely not emotionally demanding.
I woke up knowing something was off with me. Does that ever happen with you? There nothing that's happened? Something's just wonky?
I woke up this way. Adam was next to me. As I started shifting around, he reached for me and stress surged through me. No touching! No touching! No touching!
On a good day, I'm not crazy about contact; but with my kids, it's enjoyable; fun; comforting. Every now and then though, I get like this. I've come to recognize it as an anxiety response inside of me. I thought I had this handled, but, I guess it comes and it goes.
I withdrew from my fellow cellmates by chaining myself to my desk. As I become engrossed in my work and focused and as I journaled, that strange, wonky feeling started to subside. Eventually, I re-integrated, but I remained pretty quiet throughout the day. I recognize this 'sensation' from other experiences as well over and above anxiety. There's an integration of sorts happening. I have to discover the resistance, and I trust it will all come and it will all fall into place, in time
Ghaalieb was on Daddy-overdrive. He was playing with the kids, and Adams Shrieks protested abuse, declared love, threatened revenge. Sometimes he was laughing so much it sounded like he was sobbing. Amaanah was a cool cucumber, battling strategically, withdrawing at times to do her own thing and rejoining when she was refreshed and ready to slay the monster that was Daddy.
I noticed something interesting over the past few days. The house isn't getting to me. I generally don't handle it when things are out of order. It's not that the house is deurmekaar or dirty. It's just not as agtermekaar as I generally need it to be. And I've not been drill sergeanty. I've not felt triggered
This is all very curious to me. Have I dropped my standards? Is it another letting go? I don't know. I pray it's the latter.
Our trees are bearing fruit. The avos have been a real treat. The paw-paws, pears, and peppers are coming along nicely. I enjoy our tomatoes. Cooking from the garden feels pretty posh, but the stuff just grows spontaneously. No effort on my part. I throw the seeds and the offcuts that don't go into the pot in a spot in the yard, and viola! Veggies! I wish we had planted spinach and onions and carrots. In due course. In due course.
I pray that we as a society start growing food again and raising chickens. Food is such a miracle. We've become shackled to the notion that we need to buy it. It grows. Naturally and freely. Some innovation may be required for sure, but each household can grow something. Even the guy that pushes his life around in a trolley can grow something. It's a key that needs to be turned in our minds. This from someone that doesn't care for gardening. My heaven.
I've settled to watch Modern Family. I just realized that although I've seen episodes, I've not actually watched it. So here goes. Ghaalieb's joined me. I hope he doesn't fall asleep here.
We would have been paroled tomorrow. The lockdown is resulting in chaos. Not nearly as much as I had anticipated; especially in Cape Town. Let's hope it continues to live down from my expectations