Your Choice. Not Mine.

 

Most people know my brothers a drug addict.  Oh, who am I kidding, seriously, my brother is a “bergie” .   He’s been an addict for about 16 years.  Lived on the street probably for the last 5 or 6 years.   He tells me that he uses drugs out of his choice, not addiction.  And that he lives on the street out of my choice, not his.

The quote above  really just struck a nerve in me.  Him using drugs was not my choice, yet both me and my family have suffered for 16 years at the hand of his choice.  No one can see the hurt and damage that his choices have caused each one of us individually.  Yet, he blames us.  For his choices.  Yet he doesn’t allow us to make different choices for him.

He is the King of Second Chances.  And third, and fourth and fifth and sixth……you get my point.  I do not know how many times I have listened to him telling me, Please Michelle, give me another chance, I have learned from what I’ve done.  This time I am going to rehab.  And my heart softens and hope begins to grow and every time I think, maybe this time.  He looks so sincere.  And I can’t turn my back on him because what if it really is this time, and I don’t give him the chance and then that chance is lost forever.   And……. In a few months time again, after hundreds of rand's have been spent, time and effort in organizing a rehab, getting him everything he needs, getting him there…….Please Michelle, give me another chance, I have learned from what I’ve done.  This time I’m going to stay in rehab……….  How many times do you have to hear this, until you start letting the words just flow over you, as you switch off and stop listening.   That song becomes so apt:  your lips are moving, your lips are moving, your lips are moving but you lie, lie, lie……..

I feel like I have had so much criticism and judgement over my attitude towards what he’s doing.  I’ve doubted myself, second guessed myself, so many times.  And felt quite bad that people have felt like this and haven’t understood why.  Now, I don’t care if you want to judge or criticize, because I know why.  I have done, over and over and over.  To try and help him.  To try and help my family.  To try and alleviate my guilt.  Their guilt.  But you know what, I never made his choices.  I never sat  back and said here, try some drugs.  I never condoned it.  I fought it.  I tried every way I could to get him to stop.  How many rehabs know his name?  How many jobs has he lost?  How many people have given him chance after chance after chance.  Because seriously, he can talk the wounded my family don’t care and have kicked me out and this is why I do what I do talk so well.   You know what, u were doing drugs long before you were no longer welcome in any of our houses. We gave u chance after chance.  You left, and we took you back after your:  This time is going to be different, I’ve learned from my mistakes>   You were welcome up until our brothers 21^st birthday, when your jealousy over the fact that he had made something of his life and you hadn’t couldn’t be contained any longer and he ended his celebrations in a hospital getting stitches.  Another relationship you destroyed. 

There is no way you can understand what it is like to live with an addict in your family, if you have never had to do so.  You can stand on the outside and judge, give advice, it seems so logical and simple what you should do, when you are standing on the outside.   Do you think we leave him out on the streets out of our choice?  Because we couldn’t be bothered?  You can’t even begin to fathom the toll that it takes on you and your family.  To lie awake for 16 years worrying and stressing about where he is, is he ok, does he have somewhere to sleep, does he have food, is he safe, will he make the night.   You can’t even begin to imagine the places I have gone into to try and find him because I have had no reports of sightings for him for a few days.  Ive walked around the reeds in the dark for hours searching for him to find him, just to find him quite comfortable in his little make shift shelter with no desire to leave.  Seriously dodge bars and houses.  Riding around the taxi ranks late at night, because someone thought they saw him walking past…… Forking out money for rehabs when you seriously can’t afford it, transport to get there.  I do not know how many wardrobes I have bought, for two or three day rehab stints, until he decides this isn’t for him and its not what he wanted and I forced him to go that’s why he left.   The last time in December, I asked him over and over and over again, are you sure you are going to this rehab out of your own choice, because you want to,  I asked in every possible way I could.  Yes, he said, this is what he wants, he said, he’s going of his own free will, he said………. He didn’t make it to 2 weeks.  Because…..that's not what he wanted.  It wasn’t his choice.    He’s so well known on among st the criminals and authorities.   And I have the privilege of being known as his sister, due to the amount of times I’ve gone into his criminal society to look for him and into the police station to plead with him, and with the neighborhood watches as they've helped me look for him.   He thinks I’m ashamed of him and that’s why I want him off the street.  I feel no shame for his choices.  I feel desperation, because he is making choices that are hurting himself and our family and there is NOTHING I can do about it.   I feel desperation, because I know that one day one of those midnight messages I get, is not going to be telling me they’ve arrested him.  Its going to be telling me he has been found dead.   And then I have the ‘privilege’ of having to go and tell my family and my parents, who still believe that this phase will pass and he will integrate back into normal society after 16 years, that their child actually never integrated back into society he has integrated into some after life that I don’t even want to think about!  

I do not know how many times I have asked him to tell me what he wants me to do for him, because he keeps throwing back at me that  everything I’ve done for him was what I wanted for him, not what he wanted for himself.  I have, seriously, run around trying to organize the things that he wants so that he can choose to come off drugs and stop living on the street.  And when I hear:  Please Michelle, give me another chance….. and in frustration I shout at him that I’ve done everything he wanted me to do, so that he could make different choices, I’ve done everything I can think of to try and give him a chance……..nothing has worked.

 

There is nothing left for me to do!  Now you need to do something!  You need to make the choice and go and find a rehab and a place to stay on your own.  Stop coming to me and asking for help but then everything I do fails because it actually wasn’t your choice it was mine.  

I have an amazing network with people I never thought I would depend so greatly on.   I pretty much know where my brother is and what he’s doing most of the time.   when I haven’t had any reports on him for a while,  I just have to ask and someone will have given me a report back before the day is out.   It’s the times when no one has seen him for days that the fear sets in.  Or when he is in pollsmor and I lay awake worrying and not knowing what is happening to him.    Or in winter when its so cold and raining outside and I worry how he is keeping warm.  I worry constantly that he might not live to see another day,  what it will do to my mom and dad. 

But see, this is HIS choice.  Its not like he hasn’t had any other options available to him.   He has turned them down and rejected him.  He has made it impossible by his choices and his actions to live with any one of us.  Doesn’t mean we don’t worry about him, don’t hurt about his choices, or even that we don’t help him.  We have.  Over and over and over again.   And because we have done that, we just don’t believe him anymore.  Its not that we have given up, its just that now if he wants to go to rehab, he needs to go and find one himself and get there himself.  

  

I don’t really  know if there is a way that you can make someone who hasn’t lived through this understand.  Ive heard so many times :  how can u give up on him like that, how can you let him live like that, why won’t you give him another chance.    So here’s the bottom line:  I have not given up on him.  I do not choose to let him live that way.  I have given him many many chances over the past 16 years.   He has abused and lied  each and every time I have given him a chance, and yet ive still given him the benefit of the doubt.  And given him another chance.  I don’t believe that chances are limited, but he now sadly has to work for his next chance.  By being proactive and doing something for himself.   

So these are the facts:

My brother is an addict

A criminal (seriously he’s been arrested too many times not to be)

He lives on the beach (best place to be in summer, kukkest place in winter, but at least he gets to stay clean in the rain)

I love my brother with all my heart and hate him for all the hurt he’s caused us all at the same time

I have not turned my back on him, I am waiting for him to go and find the help he needs because the help ive offered over the last 16 years in his words ‘is not what he’s looking for” and he can’t tell me what he’s looking for exactly anyway.

Because he is unpredictable and  aggressive I cannot have him socializing with my girls.  And that hurts them too because they miss him.  And he cannot stay with my parents for those same reasons either. 

I hope with all my heart that he is able turn his life around,  but I don’t believe he will. 

I have mourned his death a thousand times over, over the years.  I don’t know if I will ever be able to reconcile my heart when the final one comes.  Because as much as I want him to change his life style, its not my choice.  It’s his.  And even when I have asked him to choose between me and his life style, even though I know he loves me, he has always chosen the latter.  

I do not expect you to understand how I feel, if you have never lived through it.  I do expect you to understand though,  that this is his choice, not mine.

The Loss of a Friend

 Nothing prepares you for that call.  That moment of hearing those words.  Your heart and head immediately go into full out war with each other.  Your heart hears the truth and breaks and your mind goes into denial and won’t accept what it’s heard.  You are left with this constant conflict.  You can’t accept that what you have heard is the truth it doesn’t make sense and it doesn’t fit.  But your heart is in pain, suffocating at the words you have heard, knowing that you have lost something very precious and no matter what you do you cannot get it back. 

It’s been 3 weeks now, since that phone call, and the conflict between head and heart still continues.  I can be having just a normal conversation about day to day things, and my eyes start to water.  The more I wipe them the more they fall.  Until I realise that even though my mind isn’t thinking about her right then and there, my heart is and the huge loss it feels just keeps on overflowing. 

While pinteresting the other day, I saw a site that had a whole lot of free downloadable scrapbooking pages.  My mind prompted me to reach over for my phone to bbm her to tell her I’d pinned it for her,  just as my heart reminded me she wasn’t going to get the message. 

I keep waiting for my heart and mind to make the connection.  One they can agree on.  But they’re just not getting there.  My heart is grieving.  My mind just cannot grasp how someone who has been so apart of my life for 14 years isn’t going to be there anymore. 

But then how do you explain to your mind that all the hopes and dreams you’ve spoken about, that still need to materialise, are not going to materialise for one of you.   We’ve been speaking about them for 14 years!  The time is coming soon, we are nearly there.  You can’t not be apart of it? 

So many memories come back to me at random times.  I remember her giving Cas her first piece of birthday cake at Kayla’s second birthday party.  I know the photo’s there in the album.  She’s holding Cas, whose wearing a yellow party dress, and her face is covered in cake and icing.  My heart wants me to go and open the album to look at it and remember.  But my mind won’t let me.  What else will I find in there?  More memories that I may have forgotten?  More things to make me remember how big a role she played in my life.  In my girls lives.  Another nail hitting home that there won’t be any more.  No more new memories, life events etc that she will be apart of. 

I think of all the tea’s and “counselling sessions”  she would urgently bbm me for.   All the tears and frustrations and the hurts we would share.   And I think of all the times we sat out on her deck having tea, laughing, remembering, dreaming………

You can tell me as many times as you want to that it was her time.  But this is probably the only point that my head and heart can agree on:  It wasn’t her time.  Something went wrong.  It was too soon for her to go.  Nobody was ready.  She wasn’t ready.  She was still dreaming of the things yet to come.  The life events that she was going to be apart of.  I wasn’t ready.  We were going to finally get to do our birthday tea together these holiday’s.  She had my gift, I had hers.  We’d been double booking each other for weeks.  So we’d decided to do it these holidays.  So much had been happening we had so much to tell each other.  And we were so looking forward to sitting down and catching up over tea.  But she still has my gift.  I still have hers.  It wasn’t her time.  There was still too much that needed to be done. 

Sending out Christmas and New years messages, and skipping her name, just felt wrong.  My head telling me to just send it anyway.  My heart telling me to accept that she’s gone. 

I know she’s gone.  I understand that.  But I don’t really believe it.  It makes no sense at all.  Just this permanent conflict between mind and heart.  And this permanent unbearable loss.  The knowledge that I have lost someone so valuable and precious.

 I have no regrets, just this incredible need to have more.  More memories being made, more chats, more tea, more craft failures and successes, more inspiration, more encouragement and advice, more laughs, more tears.  I want to have more of all of these things.   And I want to have them with her. 

I miss you my friend.  So much more than I can ever say.  I kind of believe though, that I don’t actually need to find the words to express it, but that you will just look down from heaven and look straight into my heart and see all the words that can never be spoken.

Remembering

Remembering

As I go through today, I'm remembering all the little details of that day

That day ur life was taken away

The pain and sorrow and total remorse

Of all the things I might have done to change the course

Of the direction your life took.

But then I remember the reality of which I mistook

That I could control your destiny as if writing a book

You were not mine to shape and to mould

You were only mine for a short time to hold.

From the first time I held you in my arms

Till the time I released you into His arms

There was a love and a bond that was real

Which leaves me with the loss I feel.

So much has changed

Even the raw pain

But the memories will always stay the same.

The love and the loss is still incredibly real

But the pain of loosing you is no longer all I feel

Life does move on but the memories remain

And I live with the hope that we will meet again.  

Happy Birthday to my God daughter

Happy Birthday 

to my 

beautiful God daughter

Happy Birthday Precious Girl!!!!

I can't believe that you are 18 today!!!!!!!!!!!  

I've been sitting here remembering back over all the years I've known you.  I know this makes you nervous.  But the memories have made me smile and laugh.

I think I met you when you were about 3 or 4?  Cute and sassy and as outspoken then as you are now.  You always knew how to bring up the most inappropriate things at the most oppertune moments.  One memory that comes to mind was when you were probably about 6, and you were listening to a conversation between your mom and I.  Out of the blue, you asked me if I was pregnant.  And then whether I knew what sex was.  And before I could finish choking on my tea and answer you, you proceeded to tell me, in great detail, what it was.   Your mom sat there with that look on her face that tells you she is ready to burst out laughing, loving watching you squirm, is not going to save you from the coversation and won't laugh so it doesnt ruin the moment and you're let off the hook.  I on the other hand was giving her the look that said this is inappropriate, I don't know what to say, help! step in and get me out of it!!!!!  She didn't.  And I recieved my sex education from you.  Pretty graphic to say the least.  Lol, not much has changed.  Last year when you came to visit you brought along your book to educate me in different sexual positions.  Your mom once again got that look on her face, and while I would have thought that I had matured at least a bit since then, was left giving her that same look I gave her all those years ago.

I was remembering how possessive you were with your barbies.  OMGOSH!  The temper tantrums that would proceed at the suggestion that you let someone play with them.  I was going to say that that stage had passed but on thinking about it some more, I kind of figured if anyone tried to play with your barbies today, they would be met with the same reaction.  

I remember the "abuse" you endured by your mothers own hand one day when she tried to prick a boil you had.......wont go into where it was....... omword, you nearly screamed the house down.  And then some.  The kicking and screaming and biting.  But you've got to give your mom credit for determination, she did what she set out to do.

I remember all the girls birthday parties that you would come to.  Every birthday there was a beautifully hand made card and often a hand made gift.  They were so special and you put so much effort into them.  

I remember the laughing and waterfights that we would have ganging up against you dad in the kitchen.  Which somehow invariably turned into it being turned on to me.  Jugs and buckets of water literally flooding out the kitchen.  

I remember the love that you had for each of the babies that lived with you.  You were such a little mommy.  And how often your heart would break when you had bonded with one and they had to leave.

I remember your first bedroom that you didn't have to share with your brother.  And how proud you were of it.  

I remember how much you would hurt when there were arguments with your friends in the neighbourhood and the tears, it would break my heart to see.  And I remember when you were so mad at someone you concocted this plan to have them over to come and shower???????? lol!  And get them to wash their hair with some shampoo that you had poured hair remover into.

And suddenly you were old enough to babysit for the girls.  They so loved having you there with them.  And you were so good at it.  No fussing or performing ever happened when you were coming over to look after them.  

I have so many more special memories of you, that I could fill pages with.  But I think that what Im really trying to say to you through those memories is how they all come together to make up the person that is so uniquely you.

You are passionate, and emotional and dramatic, and dedicated and quirky and fun.  You are such a strong person, but have the softest heart.  You lash out in anger, to hide your hurt, and you love and care with an intensity that will always make you vulnerable to being hurt. 

For years you have spent ages drawing and designing all sorts of dreams for what you wanted for your 18th birthday.  I hope that at least some of those dreams will come true today.  I wish I was there to spend the day with you.  To enjoy and celebrate this milestone with you.   Know that in my heart, I'm right there with you.  Celebrating the beautiful woman that you have become.  

I love you lots Ty.  Happy Birthday.

Facebook Etiquette

The past few days I have really been thinking about facebook etiquette.  Are there actual rules and standards that one has to adhear to?  If not, there really should be.  Or maybe the creators of facebook just presumed that people would adhere to a normal civilised code of conduct?  

I must say that I do often raise my eyebrows when I see people slating other people on their profile status.  It's a bit off, I mean do you really want your dirty laundry aired for all your "friends" on facebook to see?  Maybe it's me, but that would just make me a bit awkward.  But I respect the fact that people reserve the right to have their say on their own walls.  If I don't like it, I don't have to read it.  

I do think though, that people need to be more respectful of other peoples feelings and beliefs.  If you're like me, you probably have friends on facebook who have different belief systems.  I am a christian.  I post things on my wall that are meaningful to me within my faith. Among other things.....  But I would like to think that I have enough respect for my friends who are not, not to post things that diss or belittle their beliefs.  Please have enough respect for me and do the same.  I'm not going to post things that belittle your feelings on being a vegan etc please be respectful enough not to belittle me as barbaric because I eat meat.  That's my choice and perogative and certainly doesn't affect my salvation.  The same as your choices are yours.  And I respect that.  And if I post things that offends you and your beliefs be adult enough to message me and tell me.  If I think you have a valid point I will most certainly review the post.  But don't go and put it up on your status and slate me there.  Then why are we even friends? 

I know that most of us have had a good vent on facebook about something that has happened.  And afterwards it just feels good knowing that you've put it out there.  I don't neccessarily have an issue with that.  It's the naming and shaming thing that just gets to me.  Why use facebook to slate someone publically in a way that you would never do if the person is standing in front of you.  I think that's a bit cowardly.

What I do have an issue with though, are people who slate other peoples children on their facebook profiles.  Children who are too young to even be able to use facebook.  I find that offensive.   It's not acceptable no matter how angry or offended or annoyed you are.  Take your issue up with their parents. On an inbox message.  Not on your status.  And if anyone of my facebook friends do post a status like that, regardless of whether they are about my children or someone elses, I will condemn you for it, and tell you how unacceptable that type of behaviour is.  And if you don't like that, you know where the delete button is, and I would enthusiastically encourage you to press it.  

Facebook is about building relationships, and making the ones that you have far easier to access.  Being able to share in one anothers lives without actually being there. Not a public forum  for breaking people down and hurting them. 

I really think that just because we are not face to face with a person we still need to show the same consideration we would show the person if we were.  We need to remember our manners and social ettiquettes that we have been brought up with and not let that all fly out the window the moment we get on to social media.  Just because the person is not standing in front of you doesn't mean that words and prejudices suddenly don't hurt a person.  I actually think that it hurts that much more because it's been done in public.  And it's far more likely to break down that relationship than if you had to deal with the person directly and be able to sort it out face to face.

But then again, that's just my feelings on the matter,  I respect your choice to disagree. 

Special Moments

Last night Anastasia asked if she could have a look at her photo's that were taken on the day that we went to fetch her.  She said she wanted to see the pictures of the lady whose tummy she came out of.  We went through all the photo's together.  Ive always told her how excited we were on that day, and she loves hearing that part of the story.  So while we looked through the photo's I asked her to look at our faces and tell me what she thought we were feeling.  In each of the pictures she could see how happy and excited we were to meet her and hold her for the first time.  I love that I have them to show her, so that she can see for herself how exciting that day was for all of us.

When we had finished looking through the photos, THREE times, I asked her how it made her feel to see pictures of her birth mother.  She said "happy".  

I asked her why it made her feel happy and she responded: 

 "Because I'm so happy she gave me to you". 

Happy Birthday My Friend

I wanted to blog about my friend for her birthday today.  But the more I thought about our friendship and the journey we have walked together, I realized that I actually don’t want to share it.

It’s not that the journey has been filled with horror or unhappiness, on the contrary it probably has been filled with more hysterical laughter than anything else.  Or to be more precise:  her hysterical laughter at my humiliating moments – of which there have been many….although she has had a couple of moments that have brought about retaliation.  

 But it’s the things that we haven’t laughed about that has cemented our friendship I think.  To know that all we had to do was pick up the phone and the other would be there in an instant.  And we had quite a few of those moments.  To be able to cry together, pray together, pick up the pieces together – those are the things that bound us together.  And it’s when I think of those times, remember all those feelings, it just actually makes it too private to share. 

 I do miss you my friend – living off in your far far away land.  I’m so grateful for technology though – you are just a bbm away.

I love you my friend and I hope that you are having the most amazing birthday!