Life. Life is what we make it, that sounds cliché, but it is what it is. I have probably been exposed to more than most people my age could say. Since this blog is mine and I have the freedom to write about whatever floats my boat, I feel I should look back and hopefully be able to go through it all, a new revelation might just hit me, like a manic preacher with a bible.
Born the oldest, my mother and father got married too young (they will probably both agree with me). I was daddy’s girl and when I watch my baby videos, there is a part of me that wishes we could go back and relive what was recorded. My sister came along when I was three, Megan with her dopey eyes and her gorgeous laugh. Being the older sister, I took advantage and decided to be the ring leader. She would copy everything I did because I was her idol. As any siblings do, I used to tease her and hurt her, she says she doesn’t remember this, sorry Megs, I rate I was jealous because I had someone new to compete with for attention.
My brother came along when I was 6 and Megs was 3, he was huge and he looked like a fat Buddha in his baby photos. Being children, we were unaware of the situation our parent’s marriage was in, they weren’t happy and they fought continuously. At the age of 9, Megs 6 and Jords 3, my parents got a divorce. We moved in with my grandparents, while my father found his own place. A year after the divorce, he managed to find work in Saudi Arabia and he immigrated. This is when I took the lead for my younger siblings and I hope I’ve done a good job so far, I’m too afraid to ask. I’m not perfect, I’ve made many f*ck ups that they have been a aprt of, but I’d like to think that I’ve helped them get to where they are today. I’m exceptionally proud of the two of them.
At my 21st, my mother made a tearful speech and I will never forget what she had to say. “Gemma had to grow up a lot quicker than most of her friends, due to the situations our family has been through. I am extremely proud of who she is and where she is today”. Hearing my mother say that, with tears in her eyes made me realise that if anything, at least she is proud of me. That’s all I need to know. Thanks mom
My mother went through a long period of financial difficulties. She was left to deal with a large amount of debt after the divorce and the job she held, as a tax consultant did not make ends meet. Alas, she did every possible thing under the son to make sure we had what we needed, even if she came second, which in most cases happened. With the help of my grandparents and my uncles and aunts, we slowly but surely got back onto track as a broken family. I will never know how to thank or repay my mother for what she did for the three of us, she truly deserves recognition in some way. I hope one day, I can take her on a holiday trip overseas or look after her when she is older. She means the world to me. A family without a mother, will crumble slowly but surely.
Eventually, she decided to make the bold move of leaving her 9-5 job and start her own practice. A brave step for someone who is responsible for supporting three kids and herself. She started her practice with under ten clients, but she had faith that she would be able to provide for us better, if she could go on her own. I hope to possess the courage and ambition she had. She studied further at UCT and that’s where she met my stepfather. With Honours as a Tax Specialist, my mother has finally reached what she has been working for in the last ten years.
During this time, my grandmother who I was extremely close to, passed away. Her and I had a connection not many people get to have with their grandparents, she looked after me from birth and she was there for me in every possible way, when my mother had to work and couldn’t be there herself. This led all of us, especially me into a downward spiral. I ended up becoming depressed and I couldn’t handle the extra pressures at school. Getting up in the mornings in tears was not a way to live. Eventually my mother put her foot down and suggested that I leave school for a year, in order to get my head straight, with the condition that I get my Matric the following year. (I am actually too afraid to contemplate where I would be today, had I not done that.)
With harsh criticism from my friends (I understand why now, they were all upset and thought I wouldn’t do anything with my life), I faced the facts and said goodbye to part of my misery. I stayed at home for about a month, seeing a psychologist in between and popping anti-depressants. People will continuously argue with me about the dangerous affects of these pills, I don’t want to hear it to be honest with you, at that point in time, they helped me and I was able to get everything done, needed to be done. It really isn’t anyone’s business nor right to say whether other’s need anti-depressants or not. I needed them, they worked. End of story. ( I have to add that I was on them in the beginning of my last relationship, he was convinced that I didn’t need them now that I had him, I should have actually stayed on those damn things, that situation might have ended better, I rate.) These wonderful babies literally make you feel nothing, you develop a ‘I actually don’t care’ attitude and it helped me when I was going through counselling. I found I was able to express myself rationally, without letting the anger and the bitterness get in the way. Slitting my wrists came with this, until I started counselling and anti-depressants, when you are able to channel that anger and that bitterness to a stranger who you know, by law cannot reveal anything said in your hourly sessions, slitting your wrists becomes invalid.
If it wasn’t for my mother, I’d probably be a heroine junkie living in the streets of Cape Town today. Being a mother, she could spot the warning signs, the marks and the bandages, the uncontrollable aggression and the excessive drinking habits. I would go out every night of the week and get shitfaced because being drunk on anti-depressants makes you completely numb (or high) and your inner demons decide to retire for the evening. Perfect comfort zone for somebody who had zero control over herself. Thank you mom, once again.
Eventually I weened myself off of the medication and I found I was able to function properly without the assistance of a shrink. To this day, I have my rare moments, but I’ve learnt to deal with them and the people around me are a huge influence, I don’t think they really know what a positive affect they have had on me.
In my ‘gap’ year, I held down a full time job, I met people who will remain life-long friends and I experienced everything I needed to in order to get me to where I need to be today. Had I not taken that gap year, I probably wouldn’t be who I am, I wouldn’t have gotten tattooed and I wouldn’t be in college. It’s scary to think which other direction my life could have gone in.
Getting tattooed would also have to be part of the healing process. People who don’t do it, just don’t understand. Trying to get rid of my bad addictions, I found a better crux. People always ask me: “What’s the meaning of your tattoos?” I always reply: “There really isn’t any meaning behind them”. I get a blank stare and a reply: “Then what’s the point?”. The point is that at that time of my life I chose to get whatever I got tattooed, whether there was reason or not. Having skulls and butterflies on my arm reminds me of what I went through back then. It’s like a map. It encourages me to do better. I recently got the Mad Hatter on my foot, this one had more relevance than the rest. It happened to be the mark of my 21st, but it also reminds me of what I have been through in the last three years, relationship-wise and growth-wise. Alice in Wonderland has a huge impact on me, after making the decision that I needed to go on by myself, I discovered that I was actually venturing down the rabbit hole. I rate I haven’t even reached Wonderland yet, I still have a while to go. Understand it or don’t understand it. It’s your choice. You’re not the one who has to look at it for the rest of your life, I do.
I will admit that my anger and bitterness in the past and all of my experiences, have been a contributing factor to the overall impression I portray. Dressing like something that you wouldn’t want to cross in a dark alley helps me put up a front. Although I do love the style, it’s a security mechanism. Shaving half my hair off and getting inked leaves the impression that I don’t actually give a shit and that my personality matches that. In fact I am the complete opposite, ask any of my good friends. I am soft, I am a push-over and I do have insecurity issues (sometimes). Looks can be deceiving. It seems to have worked for me, there are a few clever people out there have figured out who I really am, and you guys will be around (in my books) for a long time. If I didn’t like the music and the styles I like today, I would probably be your typical pop, with blonde hair and heels. I maintain that these types are exactly like me, they just don’t want to admit to it.
Music; another healing factor. Music is my religion. The likes of Manson and Deftones have helped me through the low of the low. No one can understand my Manson infatuation: he was my bible for three years. That should be a good enough explanation.
I come across as harregat with men and I portray an attitude. Self-preservation. I am petrified of venturing into a relationship. I don’t have much confidence when it comes to a partnership and I haven’t been able to get it right in my last three ventures. Therefore I see myself better off being single, until I meet someone who gets where I am coming from and is willing to help me build up that confidence again. He’s out there, patience is always a virtue. I don’t want to blame my parents at any stage, but I do believe (and so did my shrink) that because of my parents divorce, I have these issues. It makes sense to me, I am anti-marriage and I personally don’t think I would be successful in it. Maybe I’ll prove myself wrong one day.
Now that I’ve pored my guts out, I will say without doubt that I am extremely proud of myself. I have been through the shit and back and I seem to be doing well. Not much can happen to me now that will entirely affect me, I’ve more than likely dealt with it before. For personal reasons, I’ve left half of my past out of this, only a select few know certain details. I’m looking forward to the next chapter of my life, for once I’m excited and afraid, but I guess that’s when you know you are truly alive.
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