New beginnings happen in time, born from an ‘ending,’ that came with a ‘choice,’ or from one we did not choose. Either way, at some point, the possibility of a new beginning will come. It comes after a period of grief, when we pine and ache for our loss, when we mourn the passing of hopes and dreams, a future that will never be. The possibility of a new beginning comes with the painful transition of letting go of what no longer is, and opening our eyes to something different – a tiny spark of light, that for just a moment, helps us see something that we have not seen before – a new perspective and another way forward.
To reach the point of going forward in a new direction and seeing and feeling the possibility of another way, life will come at us in ways that are not necessarily gentle and sympathetic. Ways and waves of things going wrong, designed to defeat our old way of thinking, or attachment to a way that no longer is.
It requires us to trust ‘life’ and to realise that ‘all of this,’ the stuff that hurts us and trips us up, is not happening to us, it’s happening for us.
What is life ‘bringing up’ about me or about my situation that does not serve my growth or higher purpose?
What are the thoughts and fears I have that keep me stuck and bound in a situation that does not serve me? What is the thing that triggers me and what is the fear or pain that lies beneath for this to be a trigger? What must I change, accept or let go for me to be self-empowered and the master of my life, free of external contributors or factors I have no control of.
Our perspective of our life is our most powerful tool. It’s the thing that keeps us stuck in stagnant waters or it can be the thing that empowers us to let go and for us to go forward. To begin again, we must change our perspective.
“Your life does not get better by chance, it get’s better by change.” – Jim Rohn
It’s taken me 2 years to get here, to the part in my journey that I can confidently say I’m at a ‘new beginning.’ The truth is that with ‘new beginnings,’ there is most often a blurry start, with one year smudging into the other, swinging between ‘endings’ and old narratives, to new beginnings and the possibilities that come with a ‘different way.’
The truth about a new beginning is that to begin, there must first be an end; one that knocks us to our knees, disables us and stops us braving the night. The end is there to defeat us so that we cannot carry on as we were. It offers us no torch to light up the old trodden path we know so well. It leaves us in the dark and it’s here, when we’re feeling lost, hopeless and grief stricken, that we’re faced with a decision. We either stay here, stagnated in this position of helplessness, or we bravely take a step forward and we start walking into the unknown, in a new direction.
New beginnings are not always so clear. Sometimes, it takes years to begin again; an inch by inch process in a new direction with regular setbacks. But then something happens and it ‘lands’ with a ‘thump,’ enough for you to turn your head and to look back and see how far you have come; to see that where there was once no space for anything else other than the pain or loss you felt, there is now simply space and enough light to mindfully choose your way. In that moment, you know you’ve turned the page and this is a new chapter, a new beginning.
Join me as I continue to walk down this path, exploring it and experiencing it, with all the bumps and burns and the twists and turns that come with starting something.
The beauty about a ‘new beginning’ is simply that there can be one.
Here begins a new chapter and a new theme for the Rosie Goes Blog: New beginnings.
It’s almost two years since I found myself walking down a long, straight dirt road holding a plastic packet full of laundry to do at my parents’ house, not sure whether to cry or laugh at my seemingly absurd new reality. I was 42 years old at the time and at the beginning of a divorce. I had left with nothing, least not a washing machine or a vehicle. If someone had told me a few years ago, that this is where I would be in my life right now, I’d have laughed in their face. ‘Never,’ I would have said.
Every few days, I’d make my way down the farm road to do my laundry. It’s a road that I’ve known all my life, but one that now felt completely different. With every step I took, this long straight road began to take on a completely new meaning. It felt like a representation of my life at that time and of the choices I’d made.
When walking this road, I felt acutely alone on my journey and exposed when all I wanted to do was disappear and not be seen. I wanted to be alone and out of sight. I knew well that this road I had chosen would be a road that I’d feared and avoided all my life.
I’d be judged, I’d be excluded, I’d be rejected, I’d be accountable, I’d lose many friends, I’d lose respect, I’d be the gossip topic of the town and I’d be very, very unpopular! I’d be in the spotlight. I would take centre stage but for the most part, not out of admiration. People would be confused by me, outraged, disappointed, saddened, and shocked. They’d try to make sense of my choices by creating a narrative about me that fits in with their understanding of who I am and of my life. They’d try to change my mind, and ‘help me’ see sense – how I was making the worst decision of my life and to rather do the ‘right thing’ according to them and their values, their beliefs, their reality and their assumptions of what my life is like.
From the very beginning, I knew these would be the consequences of my choice to change the course of my life and those closest to me.
This would not be an easy road – but I chose it anyway.
That day while walking down that road, I felt something for the very first time in my life. This journey was hard and often upsetting, but it was my choice. I was not forced to take this road, I chose it knowing it would be difficult and knowing that there would be consequences. That day was the first day in my life that when it got really difficult, I did not blame someone else for it. For the first time, I felt accountable for where I was in my life and fully responsible for my own future – that though some things happen to us that are not our choice, how we respond to it and deal with it, is a choice. It’s my choice. And I am accountable for my choices.
That day, on that road, I took full ownership of my life.
“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness.
If in our heart, we still cling to anything – anger, anxiety, or possessions – we cannot be free.”
– Thich Nhat Hanh
For the last couple years, I have been exploring the theme ‘To surrender to what is, before I can go forward.’ Much of it has been while I have been going through a divorce and it’s acutely aligned with where I am in my own life. As I’ve already mentioned, it’s been a challenging couple years, but ‘surrendering to what is’ has been absolutely necessary for this time in my life. There are many layers and steps to surrendering, but one of them which I have been experiencing recently is ‘accountability for my choices, decisions and behaviour – in the past and in the present.’ A huge part of surrendering is to look directly at what is, even when it’s hard to look at because it involves accepting that though things happen to us that are not always our choice, how we deal with it and how we go forward from it, is our choice – as hard as that may be. I have found it a particularly difficult chapter, because I’ve had to look back on my life and identify and be accountable for when I’ve made mistakes, for when I have behaved badly or for when I have hurt the people I love and when I acted from a place of fear and ego opposed to a place of love and truth. Surrendering is very much about looking at what I don’t always want to see about myself and how I have played the biggest role when it comes to where I am today. Surrendering is accepting full responsibility for my own life and being accountable for the choices and decisions I have made in my life.
I am not quite done with exploring the theme to ‘Surrender to what is before we can go forward.’ But I am nearing the end of this theme.
Before I move on to the next human condition which will be ‘New beginnings,’ I would like to share with you my divorce journey and what I have learned during this time, which is very much aligned with ‘surrendering’ when it comes to how I have approached this time and divorce.
Note that my ex husband is a really good person (!) and I will not be writing about him, or our marriage or my experiences with him during a divorce. It’s all the other big lessons and things I’ve learned about myself and about people during this time that I feel will be helpful for some of you, especially if you are going through a divorce.
I will also soon be writing about the life of an inspiring woman called Nathalie who was sexually abused by a family member up until her teens and her journey of surrendering to what is in order to go forward with her life.
It’s been an incredible journey so far. I feel like I have learned and experienced so much these last two years. Divorce is hard for many obvious reasons, but it can also be a time of healing, growth, positive change and being true to who we are. As much as it is about a painful ending, it is also about choosing how to go forward with my life and what that looks like, then doing the necessary work on myself so that I can begin again and walk with confidence and direction into this next chapter of my life.
‘To surrender,’ is that moment you acknowledge what is. That moment you look around at the carnage of an accident and acknowledge it and the hard truth that you cannot put it back together again as it was.
The moments before surrendering are the hardest, because they are often the ‘darkest,’ focused on the ‘wrongness’ of what is not and the suffering that comes with being stuck in this pain. An overwhelming feeling of ‘this is too much.’ It’s a suffering that might be coated with a thick layer of self-protective denial or self-harming escapism, or the wild run away fire that is the ‘fear of the unknown,’ with your feverish mind jumping from one possible nightmare to another, the helplessness of being oppressed or bullied by someone you perceive as having a vindictive ‘power’ over you, the frustration of not being physically or mentally able to do what you can no longer do or maybe, you are a prisoner to the injustice of a situation and the destructive white rage that comes with it. It is these lonely moments, trapped in suffering – that will eventually snap the brittle bones that hold you up and bring you to your knees.
With your head on the floor and with the bloody aftermath all around you, you are faced with a decision: To ‘stay here’ and expect no change and for the suffering to continue. Or to look at it in the eye, and to see that what cannot be changed, must be accepted. Surrendering is not a defeat. It is first an ‘unravelling,’ or the act of ‘letting go’ of what has become too heavy to hold onto, or letting go of what is not yours. It is the moment that the ego and fear does not exist, only ‘what is.’ It is the first light after a long battle in the dark. It is a moment of calm and quiet with a deep sense of relief, the moment that you are able to avert your eyes from the mess all around you and look up. This is the moment of ‘surrendering’ to what is. It is the first step of adjusting your perspective so that you can find a way forward and empower yourself.
Jene lay there staring up at the ceiling. It was a big day for her, because it was the day that she’d be upright for the first time in 6 weeks and it would be the first time she’d be in a wheel chair. Tish sat beside her as she had done every day, feeling weak about what was still to come. The truth is that she had no idea what to expect and though she knew her daughter needed her support, sometimes she did not feel strong, sometimes she wanted to run away and be anywhere but there. She’d look at her daughter’s limp body, overwhelmed by the ‘strangeness’ of this new reality, not knowing enough about paralysis, not knowing what to expect and not knowing enough for her to comfort her daughter like she wanted to.
An X-ray of Jene’s spine after the accident
There would be days that Tish wanted to pretend that none of this had happened and she’d hide from it and immerse herself in another world. She’d go to the mall to ‘window shop,’ walking from one end to the other, over and over again until she knew every shop, every aisle and every sale of ‘everything’ she could not have. She’d look through the glass and would momentarily catch a glimpse of her own reflection. She’d see a ‘stranger’ staring back at her, someone who looked like they were going about their ‘everyday’ and doing some shopping on a Tuesday. But she knew this woman, how beneath the picture of normality, was the reality; gut wrenching heart break, loss, turmoil, helplessness, overwhelm and fear. That day she realised that beneath the surface, everyone is struggling with something and that most often we don’t get to see or know their pain. And how a simple act of kindness, might impact someone more than what you will ever know and be the reason that gets them through that day.
By now, hospital life had started to feel a bit like ‘home,’ for Jene. A place that felt familiar and safe, where she had support in the way of an excellent team of attentive and caring nurses, the best doctors and an endless stream of visitors from family, members of the community, high school friends, new friends and even strangers. Of course there was also the constant company of Donna, though subdued and quiet, and the company of other patients in the ward. Opposite Jene was an elderly lady who had been quietly observing her and her journey. One day she asked Jene, “So what are you going to do with your life?”
Jene answered with the truth, “Well I am going to get on with it.”
Tish sat there, silenced and in awe of her daughter’s strength and resilience and how beneath the little girl was a warrior woman, determined not to let this hold her back.
The doctor wheeled in the wheel chair, the new wheels that would help Jene ‘get on with it.’ One might think that sliding into a wheel chair is no big deal, but it is if you have been horizontal for the last 6 weeks. Imagine your worst case of ‘vertigo;’ of your body feeling completely disorientated, seeing the seat you are sitting on and not feeling it, floating in space, saliva building up, your head draining of blood, dizziness and nausea. Jene hung onto the wheel chair handles as if her life depended on it, with the chair being gently rocked from side to side, taking Jene on what felt like the rollercoaster ride of her life. At that point, Tish ran out. It was that moment of overwhelm, of seeing the new Jene and not wanting to accept it. Of still not understanding what was happening to her daughter and not fully comprehending exactly how different life would be from now, not only for Jene but for her too, her husband and her son. The wheel chair made that feel real, it represented a new way of life and once again, her heart broke for her daughter and for the life gone of the old Jene.
Tish flung the hospital door open and ran out, straight into the arms of an old friend Eileen. The timing was just right. Eileen had had a strong sense to go to the hospital that day to see Tish and Jene and when she did, her friend literally ran into her. Eileen took Tish in her arms and simply held her as she buckled. She held Tish up, when her knees could not and the grief and fear poured out of her like hot molten lava, with great big sobs and gasps of air. That day, Eileen was the pillar of strength that allowed Tish to let go, to feel weak while being supported and to accept what is, with the loving and strong support of a friend. That was the last time Tish would ever run away. It was the day Tish accepted the new Jene, the day she found her courage and the day she knew how she’d support her daughter from now onwards, how she’d be Jene’s pillar of strength when she did not feel it. How she accepted that she could never ‘take this away’ but how she could be right by her side as she went through it.
She walked back into the ward to be with her daughter. Jene was in the wheel chair at an angle, her knuckles white as she clutched the handles. The doctor bought her up into an upright position and then took her back down again, and up again and down again – being careful to move her slowly so that she would not faint. Tish realised that though it was hard for Jene, there was nothing ‘wrong’ and all the frightening thoughts she had had were only that, thoughts. Her thoughts and fear of the unknown had held her back from moving forward and from being the warrior ‘mom’ that Jene already felt she was, but that Tish had not.
Now the work could really begin. Jene would start her long lifetime journey of ‘adapting and moving on,’ with the unconditional love and strong support of her mother, her father, her brother and friends. This was never going to be a journey for Jene alone. Having the support Jene had would become the steady wheels that would carry her and rocket her forward on this journey. And of course, the power and necessity of surrendering to what is and the acceptance that follows is the starting point for starting again. Then focusing on what can be done and not on what can’t be done.
Rob and Tish stood in the hospital hallway. This day was done and Jene had taken huge ‘steps’ forward by getting into the wheel chair.
Rob looked at Tish and said, “We need to move the furniture around this weekend for when Jene comes back.” And Tish agreed. This was the new ‘normal.’
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It was early 2020 and I was hoping that somehow, the start of a new year would mean the end of a challenging 2019. 2019 had been a tragic and difficult year in many ways and also the continuation of a mounting feeling that life was so busy and full up of things that did not really matter to me or resonate with me and empty of what burns inside. For a long time I had felt like I was living a life that I did not fit. I was conforming to what I felt was expected of me and I gave it my all. I tried to do what everyone here seems to do, like a well-oiled machine, serving a community and doing what seems to bring so many people a sense of unity, purpose, belonging, identity and friendship. If felt a bit like a compulsory duty that I needed not only to take part in, but to shine! Of course this was my interpretation of life here, an unconscious decision I made for myself of how I should be here to fit it in, to be respected and to be accepted and ultimately avoid being the ‘misfit.’ This was the work of my fear and my ego – and it required me to ignore my authentic self and what really matters to me, what feels meaningful to me and what gives me a sense of purpose that is aligned with who I am. The truth is that the stuff that really makes me tick might seem like ‘bat-shit’ crazy stuff to many and not what they’d necessarily want for themselves or ever consider doing. But someone has to do it and I am putting my hand up!
In the last couple years, I have learned that life works in mysterious ways. One day I would like to write about this, about what has happened for me to get to where I am now and where I am going to go. This is just the beginning but it’ s unfolding in spectacular ways and in a way that feels like life is ‘flowing,’ and as if I am being taken on a journey. To go on this journey, the only requirement of me is to stay aligned, to trust the process and to pay attention to what I am being presented with. To be brave, even when I am not feeling it. To write my heart out, to be vulnerable and to be honest with you about what I am experiencing and feeling, regardless of how I may be judged or viewed.
Early 2020
I sat at the desk feeling overwhelmed by the amount of photo editing I had to complete that weekend in time for a Monday deadline. It had been an extraordinarily busy few months and I had fallen behind on my editing. That Monday I needed to present a year’s work of interior design photos for a book that was due to be published for a well-known South African interior designer. She had taken me on as someone with little experience in the way of interior design photography. The deal was that she would teach me interior design and I would need to photograph it! Though I have done a lot of travel and hospitality photography, I specialise in agricultural photography. Interior design photography was something completely foreign to me at the time. Being outdoors and in the dirt is where I am most comfortable but this was something I wanted to explore. If I enjoyed it, it would be an incredible opportunity to learn from the ‘best,’ in the way of interior design and a way ‘in’ to a whole new photography genre and market. On top of that, I got on really well with this person and though I still needed to learn so much, I thoroughly enjoyed working with her.
It was 2am on a Saturday, and I was still editing. I had one more day left and a huge number of photos that I still needed to edit by Monday. The thing about interior design photography is that you are ultimately selling an idea, a style of design, or an item that fits a theme. It involves a lot of straight lines, ‘photoshopping’ out things like plug points and cables, removing a stain from a table cloth or a stray thread from a designer cushion. Every photo has to be picture perfect and that takes time. I had so much editing still to do that I literally excused myself from the world that weekend and edited solidly for 72 hours! I rewarded myself with ‘a break’ after editing an album – a break that involved going to the kitchen sink and washing some dishes! It was that kind of weekend! But while I removed the threads from a cushion, the creases from a crisp white bed sheet, dimmed the lights to a moody atmosphere and intensified the colour of the flames of an indoor winter fire, I listened to a lot of podcasts while doing this. And all the podcasts were of photo journalists and humanitarian photographers talking about everything I care for. That weekend was a paradox for me. While I edited interiors and made everything look picture perfect, the podcasts I was listening to had me nodding, smiling and resonating. They were speaking a language that I understood and importantly, doing something that I would love to do. That weekend, while I sat at the desk editing interiors, I felt alive because of what I was hearing.
I finished editing minutes before I had to leave to drive to my destination and present my final album. It was a huge relief to have finished what felt impossible a couple days before. But I did it and while doing it, I learned what really feels meaningful to me. At that meeting I was offered an incredible opportunity. Since I was the ‘outdoors’ type and rather ‘countrified,’ this designer was offering me the opportunity to photograph and publish an interior design book of ‘country homes’ in South Africa. If I wanted it, it would be the ultimate photography opportunity. It felt like I had unexpectedly learnt something about myself through the paradox of that weekend and on Monday, my ‘realization’ was directly confronted in the way of being offered a potentially great career opportunity. It felt like I was being put to test and I graciously declined the offer.
That weekend I realized what I want to do with my life and my time. What had been a shade of grey was now unmistakably black and white. It was one of many things that happened that pointed me in a new direction. This idea, this way of life, this realization – It felt wild and crazy and impossible but it felt like ‘home!’
The Candid Frame is one of my favourite photography podcasts. Every week Ibarionex Perello interviews a photographer of his choice. This is my source of documentary photographers, a podcast that inspires me and keeps me motivated to stay on this path I am walking. The podcast that inspired me most that weekend is that of Colin Finlay’s. His experience of photography deeply resonated with me and inspired me. I took it one step further and connected with Colin on Instagram. It’s these seemingly small occurrences and connections that all add up to a big shift in direction. What was a particularly stressful weekend of editing, turned out to be a weekend of absolute clarity.
She was nearly 40 and it felt like a lifetime ago that she had driven up the farm road. The smell of coming home still lingered in the air; of eucalyptus trees, pine and wattle. It felt familiar and the memories were flooding in as if it were just yesterday. So much had happened here.
It’s a peculiar feeling of choosing to go back to a place that holds so many memories, a place that represents your childhood; a sacred place because of how it became such a significant part of your identity and how the events that unfolded there would shape the rest of your life.
There is almost an expectation of returning to a place like this, that it should remain unchanged as it has in your mind; how the farmhouse walls stand solid, how the garden is abundant with fruit and flowers, how the smell of home cooked food wafts from your mother’s kitchen on a Friday as you return home from boarding school, how your brother kick starts his new motorbike and disappears down the road in a cloud of dust and how your father steps out of his vehicle, evidently battered by another long week in the workshop and shouts, ‘Come on Jene, let’s go fishing.’
It had been years since Jene had been back to the area that she grew up in and even more years since she had returned to her childhood home and back to the place of the accident. Jene and her partner’s children had driven down to KwaZulu-Natal from Johannesburg to stay with her oldest and dearest school friend, Melinda. She wanted to give her partners young sons a taste of farm life and what it was like to grow up on a forestry estate in the lush KwaZulu-Natal Midlands in a small close-knit farming community. But most of all, Jene needed closure. When she was 15 years old, the life she knew changed forever in a matter of moments and recently she had been thinking about this time and place a lot and of the people who had so generously and lovingly supported her throughout those challenging, life changing years. Though she was not stuck, she wanted to immerse herself in these memories, get close to them, love them and feel the gratitude for everything that is because of what was. She’d go back to Natal for a week and in that time, she’d return to her family homestead and to the very place that she was found face down, falling in and out of consciousness and calling her mother’s name.
Jene sat in the passenger seat and Melinda drove. It didn’t happen often, but that day even Melinda was quiet! They’d decided to leave the children on Melinda’s farm while Melinda and her returned to Colbeck Estate for the first time and for the last time.
They were almost at the top of the hill and very close to the homestead’s entrance. Jene’s anticipation to be back at her childhood home increased with every landmark that they passed. The avenue of old Blue Gum trees stood tall, alluding to the assumption that a place as significant as this, that holds so much history and at one time, so much life – would go unchanged and defy the very passage of time. That it would always be as you remembered.
But it was not like this. Instead Jene returned ‘home,’ to find nothing. That everything that was still so vivid in her mind, no longer exists. Not even a brick. The only thing that remained from her childhood was her favourite tree – a solitary Redwood tree, as magnificent as she had always remembered it.
It was an unusual Redwood tree. Instead of having one solid trunk like most Redwoods, this tree stemmed five branches from the roots. These five branches grew in solidarity, supporting each other through the seasons of life, surviving the weight of heavy snowfall, of wind, of floods and drought. It was a tree that stood the test of time and it was the only tangible thing left of Jene’s past.
She sat on what was the foundation of her childhood home, a patchy green piece of land dotted with brambles and tufts of grass. For a few long moments, the emptiness of the space muted her. It looked like an insignificant field of weeds and grass, seemingly mocking the immensity of her return and of everything that had happened here. Though it was still as beautiful as ever, there was nothing left of her past, other than the memories she held in her head and of course, there was still the great old Redwood.
It swayed and it creaked in the breeze as it always had. Like an old friend, it reminded her of what ‘still is’ and importantly, what came because of ‘what was and because of what happened.’
For a few blissful, heartfelt hours, Jene ‘danced’ in an open field with ‘then and now,’ and everything that she has become.
“Your journey has moulded you for your greater good, and it was exactly what it needed to be. Don’t think you’ve lost time. There is no short-cutting to life. It took each and every situation you have encountered to bring you to the now. And now is right on time.” – Asha Tyson
I went for a long walk today. I know the route well. I know every metre of it, I know how the water flows over the road and how every day I wet my shoes in order to get to the other side, how fish dart in all directions with every step I take. I know the long stretch of road across the dam wall, where the wind picks up and blows in the memories, with our river to my right and a silver expanse of water to my left. I hear the fish eagle in the distance and I see my loyal friend, the long crested eagle perched on the telephone pole, always there, always watching. I follow the road that follows the contour of the dam, around the corner and into a secluded valley, a valley bursting with Red hot Pokers and birdlife. Here I am alone but I am not. Here I am immersed in my deepest thoughts and here is where magic happens.
On this walk, sometimes I feel as if I could explode with hope and purpose, sometimes I get clarity, sometimes I feel fierce determination, sometimes I cry, sometimes I laugh, sometimes my heart breaks. But today as I walked this road, I felt acceptance.
Where magic happens…
Red Hot Poker
Right from the beginning, before I had even thought of starting Rosie Goes, I knew I’d be going on some sort of a journey, a journey of many roads with many twists and turns, stories and people from all walks of life and from whom I hope to learn from. There will be no free ride. I will walk this walk myself, I will ‘understand’ what I am exploring and I will feel every stone under my shoe, every bump along the road and I will write about it.
Today I felt what it means to accept something or to surrender to it. How before we can hope to start again, we must accept or surrender to where we are at or what is.
Today I learned how accepting something is not about ‘wanting’ something. I learned how acceptance can be letting go of what I’d like to happen for there to be something positive to happen, though not wanting it less or loving it less. To know that to continue as I am, at the expense of myself, of feeling that I am not being true to myself for the sake of a desired outcome, I lose who I am and what is important to me. And I get stuck. I have learned that with acceptance, there is no anger because it is no longer about something else or someone else or about something that happened or about what you don’t have anymore, but simply a deep knowing that you cannot continue as you are for you to feel at peace with yourself and to walk forward in harmony. I have learned that when I am aligned, I become unstuck.
Wild Dagga
Ironically the very first story that I will be writing about with the theme ‘to surrendering to what is before we can hope to move forward,’ is about someone who cannot walk. I will be writing about Jene Frost who was paralysed from the chest downwards at the age of 15 years old. Jene not only walked before her accident, she ran. She ran every day before school. It was her identity, it was her passion, it was her happy place, and it’s how she started her day. But in a matter of minutes, on a lazy social Sunday afternoon, Jene walked her last walk and the life she knew and the future she expected, was changed forever. This is a story about the power of ‘acceptance,’ when it comes to change and starting again, how a young women never let being paralysed stop her from moving forward.
There is one thing I learned in 2019: Life does not necessarily change with a new year. But it is a time that we stop and reflect on the year we have just had. We label it. It was either a good year or a bad year.
I’m going back to 2019 because for me, that was that year that was fit for a label – a particularly bad year after a series of bad years! And it never stopped. It kept on going on into the New Year, into 2020 and gaining momentum. I remember thinking, ‘Is this it?’ Is this what my life is? The feeling of being on a hamster wheel, going nowhere frantically and not knowing how to get off it. Life had lost its depth and the way I was living it, did not feel meaningful or fulfilling. I was committed to so many things, leaving no time for what really mattered to me or what I really wanted to do with my life and my time. I put what I felt people expected of me above this and I lost myself in a series of years. A series of years that never got better and that felt consistently ‘off-track.’
Then COVID-19 happened and life as we knew it stopped. We all stopped. Initially we focused on how to sanitise best, we followed the COVID-19 rules, wore masks and kept our distance. We isolated from the life we knew and we were given ‘time.’ For some, this isolation was traumatic and lonely. For me, it was the first time since I had moved back to South Africa that I felt there was time to think, time to reflect and time to sit quietly with myself. For me, it felt like a blessing.
2020 Lockdown
2020 was the year that completely smashed the hamster wheel. It was also the year I decided that I did not want to get back on that hamster wheel. I wanted to walk around in my own shoes and feel at ‘home.’ For me, 2020 was that year that I found the courage to change and to choose a different life, one with depth and though scary at times, feels meaningful and with a purpose that is aligned with who I am and what is important to me. It was the year that I stepped out of the box I had created and into the big wide world!
It was a difficult year, because before I could think of the change I want, I first had to surrender to where I was at. I had to face everything I had become and take responsibility for myself. I had to stop blaming others for my unhappiness and accept that I was not going to change anyone and that the only change that could happen, was within myself. I had to revisit my past and the narrative I created because of it, one that has influenced so much of my life, my relationships and the decisions I have made. I had to identify what is true and what is not and sift through my limiting beliefs. I had to let go of wanting to control in order to achieve a certain outcome. I had to identify when my decisions and priorities were ground in ‘fear and ego,’ opposed to what comes from a place of love and truth. I had to stop fighting and instead ‘surrender’ to what is and what was. I had to accept where I am and take responsibility. Only then could I ask myself, ‘what do I want?’ And I did. 2020 was the year I surrendered and also the year I asked myself those questions and made the decision to change my life. In doing so, I would also change the life of those closest to me, especially for my family.
2021 came with the shocking and most unexpected news that my husband and I would be getting divorced. It was shocking, because I am divorcing a good man and because no-one really knew of my personal journey. I had eluded everyone. I smiled when I was not feeling it. I put my armour on, and presented myself as strong when I was not feeling strong.
2021 was the year of implementing change. It was always going to be a difficult year but I am hesitant to kick it in the butt and say ‘good riddance.’ 2021 and the change I implemented came with many BIG life lessons. It required courage, it required being okay with being judged and not allowing the fear of not being accepted to influence my decisions, it required me walking my own path with my head up. It required me not to conform and to believe in myself and my vision.
“Live the life of your dreams: Be brave enough to live the life of your dreams according to your vision and purpose instead of the expectations and opinions of others.” – Roy T Bennet
2021 was certainly not easy and I know that the months to come will continue to be challenging for me and my family because of my decision. I know that the life I am choosing is not a conventional one and more often than not, it is a life that people would not choose for themselves.
Though 2021 has been difficult, it is the year that I have felt ‘peace’ for the first time since I can remember. It is also the first time in my life that I have truly felt gratitude. Because of my decision which has come with much ‘debate’ by others of what is wrong and what is right, I did not expect you to ‘stay,’ but you did. 2021 is when I received the unexpected unconditional love and support from a handful of extraordinary friends and my family too. I have learned that ‘support,’ does not necessarily mean ‘agreeing with,’ but rather the willingness to try and understand, the decision to be open to understanding and less about what you would do or would not do. Wanting to ‘understand’ does not just happen – it is most often a conscious decision. THAT is my BIGGEST lesson and my biggest reason for feeling gratitude. Gratitude for the people who have wanted to understand and who have supported and loved me unconditionally. Gratitude for this lesson too and how I am going to work very hard to do what these people in my life have taught me; Seek to understand.
2021 was the year that I found myself walking down a district road to my parents, 43 years old and with a plastic Shoprite packet full of laundry… with nothing. On that day, I faced my decisions. That day, I had no-one to blame, no-one to point fingers at because this is my decision. That day, I walked down the road I had chosen and I felt happy.
May 2022 be the new beginning that brings peace, purpose, growth and joy.
Rosie Goes 
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