I would like to share my story with you tonight.
Emerging from apathy.
Becoming the author of my own life story.
Taking responsibility
for my outcome…
18 years ago I woke up in the morning to a hormone tablet, a
cup of coffee and a cigarette.
I popped my Prozac anti depressant and after breakfast had
my nexium for a bleeding ulcer. I had a migraine injection in my bag for just
in case.
By twelve o’clock I was thinking of a glass or two of wine
and by 4pm it was whiskey.
I was like a yo-yo.
When I was up I was flying…. Loud and
obnoxious. When down I was a melancholic mess.
When someone asked what I did over the weekend, it was easy.
Gin and Tonic.
A little light started flickering in my mind.
Maybe I needed help?
The Psychiatrist was as heavy as a wet sack - soaked full of
sticky secrets.
His face was blank and unresponsive as he listened.
His arm worked separately from his still body as it burrowed
deeply into his pocket unwrapping hidden sweets. His hand came up to his mouth
hiding the treat and each time the entry was disguised with a little cough.
His eyes started flicking quick looks at the clock and I
realised my time was probably up. I slowed down my rant and he nodded slowly
pulling the prescription pad closer.
“I’m going to give you a little something to help you cope”
More medication!
Thank you but no, I think I was self medicating quite adequately….
I was looking for something, but it wasn’t a bottle of pills.
I decided to see a psychologist, someone who couldn’t write
me a script.
He was such a sweet man. He smiled and um’d and ah’d. He
shook his head and put his hands to his mouth in disbelief.
5 minutes before the end of the session he saids that it
would be good to see me again in a weeks time to hear more of this unbelievable
story.
Even though I got the feeling he didn't believe me, I went back 5 more times to get the same words……I needed a
solution….where was my golden ticket?
Why didn’t he give me a solution to my dilemma?
My pastor at the church told me to pray…. even harder.
My partner said I should have a drink.
My recurring nightmare at the time.
I was on a bicycle with a carrier attached. I had my 3 children
with me all perched in some way on the bike. I was riding in the night on the
sand road towards town but I never got there. I turned back to the farm and
kept riding balancing the children but after what seemed like an age I never got
to the farm either and turned around to get to town…and on and on it went…I felt completely lost.
I decided to change tack and made an appointment to see a
Cognitive Therapist in Cape Town and this time a woman.
Within 5 minutes I realised that she believed me and that
she was angry for me and she gave me a mental tool to use which started my
rising up out of the apathy that had dragged me for years.
She asked me what the name of my book was…..my life story.
She said that I could be anything I wanted to be. Good, bad
or ugly.
“Fee state woman becomes rich and famous!” I was happy with
that.
I mean, isn’t that what we all want? No no, not to live in
the Free State for goodness sake but rich and famous, the golden state of
happiness.
She then asked me who writes in my book, who holds the pen?
Who holds your pen?
With that pen I had to make a list of all that I had lost
and start claiming each little thing back that was “me”.
Which music did I
play?
What food did I like?
Was I pressurised to be what I wasn't?
Where did I need to take back control?
Was I dressed for
someone else or for myself?
Did I react out of myself or for the benefit of another?
And the list went on and on as she gave me clues of what to
look for.
I never went back to see her…..this was my golden ticket.......this tool was enough to set me on a road
to recovery one day at a time.
So I ask you to think on this question. What is the title of
your book?
Who holds your pen?
It would still take me 10 years to reach a solution and
freedom but this was the first step.
10 years later my title read….
“Free woman arrives in Pretoria in a state, tightly clutching her pen”
