Why do strangers feel like it is acceptable to touch others? I am not good with random strangers touching me. I am not even good with people I know touching me if I am not prepared for it or fond of them.
On Monday I went with Norm to the hospital as he was having a gastroscopy and would be sedated so he could not drive home. I did think that a sedated Norm is probably a better driver than everyday Lisa, especially as it was pouring rain, but apparently the doctor did not agree. The doctor also would not allow me into the examination room to watch the procedure. The doctor also looked about 12 so I could probably have taken him in a tussle over that scope.
Anyway.
I waited in reception until the doc came to see me and told me that there were no issues found, no ulcers and that they would send the biopsies off to the lab then he dashed off. Next the nurse came to collect me and take me back to be with Norm. Norm was absolutely out of it. He looked at me like he was in a dream. I sat down next to him and I felt someone touching my hair and I whipped around to see the nurse picking up handfuls of my hair and letting it cascade back down. I gave her a look and she said ‘I was just admiring your hair’. Errrr no you were fondling my hair with your germy nurse hands.
She then popped out the door and left us on our own for about an hour. I was getting antsy as I needed to get back to work. Eventually she came back, carrying her lunch and seeming surprised to see us right where she had left us. She asked has ‘the doctor not been to see you??’ and I wanted to say ‘yes he popped in but it is so pleasant here we thought we might stay all afternoon‘ but I bit my tongue.
She came over closer to us and she reeked of cigarettes. I almost gagged. Again she starts faffing around me. I asked her what we should do as I needed to get back to work. She suggested we leave and the doctor will ring us. (He still has not, Norm assumes he is waiting for the lab results. It is poor form IMO.)
My other touchy-feely incident was at drumming last Sunday. We had been sent a new song sheet and I had reformatted mine and when the woman who created it looked at my copy she noticed that I had changed it. I mentioned that the inconsistent formatting had triggered my OCD and I also needed to increase the font in order to see it. I have known her for years but she asked whether I was actually OCD and when I confirmed yes (and ADHD and some other alphas) she grabbed my hand and THEN asked ‘do you mind being touched?’ while tightly grasping my hand. The time to ask that is BEFORE you touch me. She then proceeded to tell me she is reading a book which links OCD to trauma. She asks whether I have had any trauma and I mentioned a few of the big ticket items and she nodded wisely as if she had just diagnosed me herself.
She then grasped the long necklace I was wearing which hangs over my chest and examined each bead individually. It was a lot of invasion of my personal space and I was very uncomfortable. I knew that I was risking absorption of negative energies in this group as it is often chaotic and I had done a protection ceremony when I had prayed so luckily I did not feel too overwhelmed but was definitely twitchy.
It was hot and the drumming had made me sweat a lot and I had not eaten yet so I was on the border of a flip out. I just kept breathing and counting (and rolling my eyes and making snarky remarks when we stopped yet again for this person to make a negative comment or correction).
This video was taken by one of the attendees. We are singing my favourite song, Wendayaho, also known as The Cherokee Morning song. I sing this to Millie all of the time.
We rehearse for performing at the Dance to Heal the Earth which we are holding next year. We are the drum beat for the dancers. We had to cancel the dance because we were not ready. As it is a ceremony we need to honour that.
When I got home all I wanted to do was jump in the pool but Norm had not had time to sort it out for the summer as he has been traveling so much. I crossed my sweaty little fingers and we removed the cover. It was full of slime and sludge.
I obviously could not swim in it which heightened my anxiety and it took drinking some icy cold water, sitting by a fan, eating some food and zoning out with some golden girls for me to calm TF down.
Norm had been working on replacing the security gates but one door was not hanging properly and so it would not shut for a few days. He had to change around all of the bolts and he managed to sort it out. Clever fellow. He then replaced my throne and all of my pots and plants on the porch.
Interestingly some of the plants thrived being directly outside without being undercover and some of them got too much water and were looking a bit bedraggled. Some grew like mad from the direct sun. I guess I should move some of them down by the pool when I get the 2 plant stands Norm is painting for me set up.
The only thing predictable about Cape Town weather is that it it always unpredictable. It is always erratic. We had rain, intense heat, chilly and windy days in one week. There was even a severe weather warning for those near the coast. My plants are oblivious.
I love this vine, I have a pair of them but this plant is blooming and the other one is not. This one gets more sun so assume that is the difference? I noticed various succulents have also grown in the pot where I had just tossed random leaves.
Even my orchid is thriving and has produced 3 blooms! It is such an unusual colour, the centre is a bright fuchsia. The Barbie girl in me loves a bit of fuchsia.
This week I watched the Robbie Williams documentary on Netflix. It covers his life from the age of 16 when he joined Take That to now at the age of 49. There have been cameras following him for 30 years and much of this old footage is shown, some for the first time.
As I did not grow up in the UK I only became familiar with Take That and Robbie when I moved to the UK as an adult so I missed that teenage obsession with him that many women have. I had only seen the posts from the British press who seemed to detest him. In reality he is a very troubled, mentally ill man who has struggled with addiction since he became famous. You could see the mania in his eyes and on his face in several of his performances where he says that he was in the middle of a breakdown or a panic attack for that performance. Like many insecure people Robbie presented as obnoxious and care-free when in reality he was being broken from his own insecurities and this was compounded (or validated in his mind) by the horrid things people said about him in the press.
Robbie is so vulnerable in this documentary. He is very insecure and the press just fed that insecurity to the point where he used various substances to numb that pain. You can tell he has either had a boat load of therapy or he has done a lot of inner work as he is so aware of himself and is able to show his vulnerability which he previously covered up by bad behaviour.
I understand about numbing.
A friend sent this to me and it has really struck a cord with me.
I also struggle with showing vulnerability. The fear of exposing my true self, my overly-complicated mind and my unconventional lifestyle to others. This is possibly because I have always struggled to fit in, to find like minded individuals. Growing up in the very conservative, racist, homophobic, bible-belt American south I definitely did not fit in. Everyone was so judgmental and unaccepting of variance from the ‘norm’. I had friends of different races, sexual orientations, and economic statuses. I left there as soon as I could and I have kept moving, now having moved almost 50 times.
When I moved to LA I was so southern that I struggled to fit in there too. People mocked my accent and it made me clam up. Once I had children I found my circle of other moms and made friends with various diverse people once again. I had Korean friends, Chinese friends, Filipino friends, black friends, Hispanic friends and we all just melted into that pot of friendship seamlessly.
However when I was persuaded to move to South Africa by my first husband I had to start the process all over again. I only had two friends in Johannesburg, they were my neighbours. Where else could I meet people as my children did not attend school yet?
Once we moved down to George on the coast, I found a group of women I loved dearly. Many of them are still my friends today. After my divorce some of the women stayed friends with me and some of the husbands from the group made passes at me. Why are men such chancers and beasts??
I then moved back to Johannesburg after my divorce and my subsequent nervous breakdown. Shortly after I met Norman and we ended up together with me immigrating once again, this time to Belfast Northern Ireland where he lived.
I felt so at home in Northern Ireland. Ironically for a country with a history of violent sectarian conflicts, I felt like I found my tribe. I had a wonderful circle of friends, from both sides of the religious conflict, most of them from the LGBTQ+ community. My bestie was Jamaican. Unfortunately we only stayed a few years then we moved to England. I also found a great circle of friends and had a brilliant life there.
When I first came back to South Africa I fell in with a group of lovely British women and we had a lot of fun with them, however most of them have now immigrated back to England or Europe. I then became quite lonely. Obviously I have Norm and my children but I think women need time with other women. I asked the universe to send me women whom I could relate to and my world opened up. I found my shaman teacher and that was a group of women. I found my Soul Circle and that was a different group of women. We have also formed a monthly social club of women. I also have my little group of women from my yoga class. I tried a book club as I have mentioned before but with my vision issues I struggle to read and I did not really connect to any of the women there whom I had not already connected to via my other groups.
I am content with my circle, my little tribe of like minded women where I can be vulnerable, share my struggles and be myself. I keep working on myself, both physically and mentally.
I did not have a session with my therapist from the NDC this week since I had to go to the hospital with Norm on Monday. Last week my therapist said that she feels as if I am stuck in Fight or Flight mode from my PTSD. My traumas are so vast, starting from the age of 5 when we had an armed invasion and I had a gun against my head, (the same age when I was molested) through various abusive relationships, my custody issues, then multiple break ins in South Africa.
Since our last break in I have felt like my adrenaline button was constantly in the ‘on’ position.
I am only seeing the psychiatrist in February, that is her first available appointment. Meanwhile I am keeping an anxiety log. I have lost my cool mildly twice this week. Work has been very busy as we are wrapping up for year end. Lots of things are going on until we go away, typical year end chaos.
We have our client’s year end function at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens on the 5th. We are having caterers provide us with picnic boxes at a much better price than we were getting quoted from the venue. As the staff have to pay for their own or bring their own food, I opted for paying in. I will cart my chair and a cooler with some drinks. I hope it is not too hot and is maybe even overcast. I cannot cope with the heat. I am sure I will find a tree to sit under seeing as it is a botanical garden.
We have nothing on this weekend, I am looking forward to resting after so many weekends of activity and the upcoming year end chaos ahead. We may pop out for lunch or something in the village. I have a friend visiting from Canada and hope to meet up with her.
I hope you all have a fabulous weekend and week ahead. Until next time, Kisses from the Kitten x0x0x0xx0
Kitten in the City 