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‘n Doodsheid vul my binneste, soveel so toe ek die by die snelweg aansluit kan ek nie onthou hoe ek daar gekom het nie. Ek voel moeg en gedreineer. Dit is veby. Trane loop teen my wange af, versper my visie en ek ry stadiger. ‘n Kar jaag verby, ‘n toeter blaas en instinktief weet ek dit is vir my. Toe ek my oë afvee besef ek hoekom, ek ry wydsbeen oor twee bane. Ek ruk die kar na die linkerbaan net toe nog ‘n groterige motor verby my skuur met blêrrende toeter. Die man swaai vuis deur sy venster, woedend.

Ek is ‘n gevaar vir myself en die motoriste om my, syfer die besef deur. By die volgende afdraai volg ek die afdraaipad en stop by die Engen garage. Ek vee spore van my afgelope tranedal af en stap by die eetplek in. Daar sak ek by die naaste sitplek neer.

“Môre Mevrou, hoe lyk dit met ‘n heerlike koppie koffie?” ek vermy die kelner se oë maar koffie sal heerlik smaak.

Stilweg verdwyn die man en ek sit terug. Nog ‘n traan baan afwaarts en verergd vee ek dit af. Ek moet myself ordentlik kry en gewaar die badkamers in die linkerhoek van die vertrek en baan my weg soontoe. Gelukkig is die plek nie vol nie en kan ek darem my kop ietwat lig net om seker te maak waar ek is. Struikel is die laaste ding wat ek nou nodig het.

In die ruskamer doen ek my besigheid soos ‘n robot. Ek weier om te dink oor die afgelope naweek se gebeure. Weier om weer my asem of my trane daarop te mors. Ek moet eintlik verlig voel dit is verby. Die beeld wat terug weerkaats is van ‘n weerlose bleek vrou met rooi, opgepofde oë. Ek lyk lelik en onthou ek het my handsak by die tafeltjie gelos. Baie onverantwoordelik van my dink ek benoud. Met lang vingers kam ek my deurmekaar hare reg. Dit maak nie ‘n groot verskil nie maar dit lyk tog beter. ‘n Haarknip sou beter gewerk het maar ek gaan nie nou daaroor top nie. Ek spoel my gesig met koue water af. Dit voel verfrissend en ‘n sweempie van ‘n glimlag verskyn. Met die papier handdoek druk ek my gesig droog en kyk weer na my beeld, dit lyk beter, heelwat beter. Ek voel meer in beheer van my gevoelens.

By die deur stop ek. Vir ‘n oomblik kan ek nie onthou waar my sitplek is nie en die vriendelike kelner wink vir my. Sy bedagsaamheid lig my gemoed nog verder en die keer kan ek hom in die oë kyk. Merkwaardig wat ‘n veranderde gemoed kan doen, dink ek, verleë oor my houding van vroeër.

“Wat van ietsie om die innerlike te versterk?” vra hy beleefd. Sy Afrikaans het ‘n merkbare aksent. “Ons het vars skons, kan ek vir mevrou bring, saam met aarbei konfyt en room?”

“Baie dankie, klink heerlik.” En weer verdwyn hy uit my gesigsveld. Die wagtende koffie ruik heerlik en vinnig gooi ek twee bruinsuikers in, voeg dan ‘n titseltjie melk by. Al roerende kyk ek rond, nie seker waar ek is nie. Die plek lyk skaflik, nie die standaarde waaraan ek gewoond geraak het nie maar vandag pla dit my nie. Die verandering sal my die wêreld se goed doen.

Ek vat die eerste sluk, versigtig om nie te brand nie. En geniet die aroma, ryk en lekker net soos pa altyd daarvan gehou het. Boeretroos. Sy het altyd gewonder oor die beskrywing maar nou, hier in die onbekende dring dit deur. Die troos wat dit haar gee is verkwikkend amper eufories en sy vat nog ‘n sluk. ‘n Perfekte koppie koffie. Welbehaaglik ontspan sy net om weer aan haar handsak te dink. Dit lê nog op dieselfde plek dink sy verlig en sy plaas dit op haar skoot. Sy grawe rond en kry haar selfoon beet. Met misnoeë kyk sy na die swart skerm en besef hy moes iewers afgegaan het.

“Kan ek vir mevrou op die laaier sit, dan is hy nou, nou weer vol lewe?” vra die kelner. Ek skrik, ek het hom beslis nie opgemerk nie en ‘n bord met die geurigste skons word voor my neergesit. ‘n Wit bakkie met room word langs dit neergesit en dan volg twee kleiner bakkies met gerasperde kaas en aarbeikonfyt, onderskeidelik.

“Asseblief, maar ek het nie die draad hier nie.” Verergd dat sy in haar haas dit by die huis gelos het. “Ons het ‘n paar drade hier en dit lyk na ‘n bekende maak so ek sal beslis kan help.” Ek wik en weeg die aanbod, skeptisisme so deel van my dat ek wonder wat sy intensies is. Dan kyk ek na die oop gesig, onskuld weerkaats terug na my. Met ‘n ry wit tande wat vol verwagting na my kyk. Dan oorhandig ek die foon met ‘n dankie. En met diè stap hy weg, na ‘n rak in die een hoek waar hy die foon konnekteer. Met ‘n breë glimlag gee hy my ‘n duimpie op en ek gee ‘n skalkse glimlag. Darem iets wat reg werk.

“Life goes on.” Het sy eendag iewers gelees en selfs in die verbygaan het sy dit nooit rerig gesnap nie. En hier sit sy, by ‘n onbekende plek en kom tot die besef dat selfs in die klein dingetjies die lewe nog voort gaan. Al het haar wêreld momenteel kom stil staan gaan dit eintlik nog aan. Sy is finaal vry van Diwan.

“Jy het ‘n regte keuse gemaak.” Word my gedagtes onderbreek deur ‘n growwe stem. Verdwaas kyk ek op. Die man voor my se vriendelike gesig stel my dadelik gerus. Verward staar ek na hom, snap nie waarna hy verwys nie en hy wys na die bord voor my.

“Die skons, dit is Helga se beste gebak. Mense stroom spesiaal hiernatoe vir haar varsgebakte skons.” En hy gaan sit oorkant my. Vies kyk ek hom aan. Ek het hom nie genooi nie, dink ek verergd. Sommer omgekrap oor sy voorbarigheid. Hy klap sy vingers en bulder dit uit: “Ag bring vir my daar ook ‘n koffie en skons, Gertman.” Die kelner van vroeër grynslag weer en verdwyn die kombuis in.

“Die naam is Wikus. Wikus Boonzaaier. Ek bly net buite die dorp.” En steek ‘n growwe hand uit wat ek bedeesd vat. Nie lus vir geselskap nie maar antwoord tog beleefd:

“Rika van den Berg.”

“Bly te kenne Rika. Kom jy dikwels hier?” val hy sommer dadelik met die deur in die huis. Ek wil my nog verder vervies maar bedink my. Miskien moet ek net leer om te ontspan.

“Nee, is my eerste keer.”

“Waarheen is jy oppad?”

Kriewelrig vermy ek sy priemende oë. Goeie vraag, nie seker nie, dink ek in die stilligheid. Gertman is terug en plaas die man se bestelling voor hom neer. Dit gee my ‘n oomblik om my eie skons te sny en met botter te smeer. Die vraag hang in die lug en ek weet eerlikwaar nie die antwoord nie. Waarheen is ek oppad? Vandat ek Bergendal verlaat het, het ek net die pad gevat.

Die man smeer sy eie gehalveerde skons. Die konfyt word sommer dik opgeplak en hy gee ‘n groot hap. “Dit bly darem die lekkerste skons in die geweste.” Ek knik my kop in ooreenstemming. Dit is heerlik vars.

“Verskoon my voorbarigheid maar kan ek help?” vra hy weer, die ondersoekende blik gevul met opregte belangstelling. “Nie rerig nie.” antwoord ek bedees.

“Dit lyk my jy het ‘n stil-word-plek nodig.” Gee hy sy mening en vat weer ‘n hap. Ek lag amper sinies. Stilte is seker die laaste plek wat ek nodig het en ek vat ‘n sluk van my koffie.

Sonder om sy steeds priemende oë te ontmoet kyk ek weg, nie seker wat om te antwoord nie. Stilte… ek het genoeg daarvan gehad op Bergendal. Dit is juis van die stilte wat ek weg vlug. Die soort stilte wat kasty en letsels los. Daardie soort het ek nie nodig nie.

“Ek sal eerder tussen mense wil wees. Miskien is die stad juis wat ek nodig het.” antwoord ek en wink vir Gertman om die rekening te bring. Skielik haastig om op die pad te kom.

“Mevrou, waarvoor jy ookal vlug ek hoop jy kry jou antwoorde daar.” Ek knik my kop, sit ‘n R100 noot op die tafel neer en staan beslis op. Ek hoor Gertman roep maar ek ignoreer hom. Die footjie is seker te veel.

Terug in my kar vang my oog die inligtingsbord na Durban. Is nie juis ‘n plek waarvan ek hou nie maar is miskien juis wat ek nodig het. Die klop teen die ruit laat my skrik en ek gewaar Gertman met ‘n breë glimlag. My foon in sy hande. Versigtig rol ek die venster af en met ‘n dankie ontvang ek die foon. “Mooi ry, Mevrou. Tot ‘n ander dag.” En ek rol weer die venster toe sonder ‘n woord.

Met haas trek ek weg om die soort stilte te vind wat net afstand my kan bied.

Created with
The Site Map: Look past the clutter.

The Site Map: Look past the clutter.

It is God’s privilege to conceal things and the king’s privilege to discover them. (Proverbs 25:2, NLT)

Study the word

I studied the course, gritting my teeth in frustration. I can’t find the list that will explain to me what it requires of me. One by one, I clicked each tab on the navigation and studied its drop-down list. Nothing.

I kept scrolling down until I saw that precious link in the footer titled, “Site Map.”

I clicked… and what opened up was a beautiful, glorious outline of the site.

No wonder I had to dig! The site map listed literally hundreds of pages. I searched through and eventually, there it was: “Required Curriculum” as a line item.

The site was chock full of content, but the outline—the site map—identified each page lay that behind the skin of the website template. It was set up in an orderly, logical framework.

The information was there. I simply found it in a way I didn’t expect by digging.

I take the same route to meaningful writing. Obvious superficialities lay on the surface (as on a navigation’s drop-down list). It reveals hidden truths when I search them out (as in a site map.)

Discovery is a privilege. We gain it in digging.

Truth uncovered leads to more meaningful writing.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,

No secret is hidden from you. Thank you for the privilege of digging in to discover your truths. Let me be persistent to go beneath the surface.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Taken from Nonprofit Copywriter website. 

Creative vision and dedication.

Creative vision and dedication.

When we say we’re blessed and highly favoured, there is a certain responsibility on our part to make it true. We cannot be favoured nor blessed if we do not do the basics.

Blessed means we receive endorsement from a higher power. If there is no connection, it will be an acceptable word without meaning.

So, what does that have to do with creativity or books?

Glad you asked. 😊

There are certain things God blesses. Obedience, for example. And there are things he refuses to bless. Disobedience for one.

As a visionary, it is imperative that you remain blessable. Translation, you must adhere to a set of beliefs and behaviours that reflect this connection. Your creativity may want to develop in a certain direction that will set you apart from “competitors”, however, you must embrace the standards set forth by your connection. If you follow Christ, the Scripture will be your guide. If you follow a more spiritual or traditional belief, you follow that guidance.

Since I am a believer, I can advise from the scripture. Take it with an open mind and see the results at the end.

2 Chronicles says that the Lord strongly supports those whose hearts are completely his. Question: How important is it to you that the Lord strongly supports what you are doing? If it is important, then your heart must be completely his. When you embrace what is important to him, you bring your heart into alignment with his. When your heart is completely his, you are blessable.

We can divide your core beliefs and behaviours into two categories: general and specific.

General beliefs and behaviours are what every person/believer should adhere to. Things like honesty, purity, and integrity should be embraced regardless of our vision.

Failure to follow the general standards has caused countless visions to come apart at the seams. We have all seen visions damaged by mishandled finances and unresolved relational conflicts. Or miscarriage and abortion had taken place before fulfilment because of jealousy, pre-mature speaking, etc. It accounts for just about every failed vision I know of.

Specific beliefs and behaviours are specific to your particular vision. I can’t tell you what these would be for you. You must figure them out on your own, with God’s help.

In order to give the word, blessed real meaning you should live according to the beliefs you follow. This will enable your vision’s safety and growth. It will give meaning to your craft and substance to you. Your vision will become your voice, a trumpet of triumph in a world in need of good news, beauty and blessing.

When the Israelites were in the desert, God gave certain men the skills to craft the Ark, Priestly clothing and Tabernacle according to His specifications. That same God lives within us. That same power of creativity is still available within us. The more we connect to God, the more it will happen.

What to do: Develop a list of both general and specific beliefs and behaviours relevant to each of your visions. This will be your guide.

Make yourself blessable.

You are blessed and highly favoured.

Lynelle

To learn more about life coaching and how I can help you unblock, click here.

For writing help and resources, click here.

Are you a writer?

Are you a writer?

Do you ever wonder whether you’re worthy to call yourself a writer?

But doubt and fear creep in and you ask yourself:

“What makes me a writer? I’ve published nothing, let alone a book.”

“What I have written is no good. I’m not even sure I should do this.”

“I can’t honestly call myself a writer. I’m nowhere near good enough!”

Sound familiar?

For a long time, I called myself an aspiring writer. It was a false sense of humility that only served my conscious. Hidden behind all the excuses I believed. Once my third book was underway, a good friend cornered me: “Stop calling yourself that. You are not aspiring to be one any longer. You are one.”

From that moment forward, I accepted the fact that I am a writer.

If you let it, that voice will keep you from ever sharing your message with the world. Let’s fight the voice of doubt with a dose of truth.

How does a person actually become a writer?

Every once in a while, you’ll hear of someone who wrote something or pressed into it and surprised everyone by becoming a known writer.

Usually, becoming a writer takes a normal course. You become a writer the way you become a bicyclist or a gymnast or a dancer, singer, cook, or plumber.

See where I’m headed with this?

You walk—and trip and tumble and plop—before you run.

You bake a cake, it flops, perhaps a dozen times, before you bake the perfect, most delicious cake. No recipe is safe in your hands but persists in this, and suddenly someone calls and places an order. Then you are a baker.

Being bad at something we want to succeed at is part of the process. It’s how we pay our dues.

If you’re not willing to make mistakes, to accept correction and criticism and counsel from experts, you’re not likely to progress.

So, when can you actually call yourself a writer?

As soon as you’re willing to dive in and give it all you’ve got.

Don’t decide you’re not a writer before you’ve mustered the courage to try.

Accept that you will fail at first, we all are failing at everything we try for the first time. There is no shame in that.

Humility is a good starting point, it’s the attitude to adopt for your writing career.

Talking is not enough.

If you’re only talking about being a writer, only reading blogs about it, only going to writers’ conferences, socialising with writers, dressing like a writer (whatever you think that means), you’re not a writer. You’re a fake.

Wannabes talk about writing. Writers write.

They may not write well yet, but they write.

When you are pounding the keyboard and words appear on the screen, you’re in the game. No matter what. Then you are a writer.

Otherwise, you may talk, but you’re not writing.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a writer. It is a wonderful dream to have. But, to call yourself a writer, write.

I know it’s hard.

It’s scary to show your work to a professional, even more so to an editor or publisher who will decide whether to buy it. I understand about fears and you feel your heart is in your throat.

But actual writers want the feedback. They want to get better, to learn, to grow, to succeed.

So, let me ask you again—are you a writer?

Did you fail, but still pounding those keys? Scared and still writing? Did you stand up to a harsh critique and improve your piece by applying what you’ve learned? If you’ve stayed at it despite that persistent fear of failure, you are!

Whether you’re writing fearfully or courageously, regardless—you’re a writer.

If you’re in the game and practising your trade, say it loud and say it proud:

I am a writer!

Lynelle

To learn more about life coaching and how I can help you unblock, click here.

For writing help and resources, click here.

Ek is Marieta

Marieta kyk na haarself in die lang spieël. Die nuwe snyerspak pas haar perfek. Die potloodromp omhels haar heupe stylvol. Die wit sybloes wys net genoeg sodat sy saaklik maar tog vroulik voorkom. Die baadjie skep die indruk dat sy in beheer is. Haar gemaklike swart skoene, met gemaklike hakkie, blink gevryf. Haar grimmering is foutloos aangewend en haar kort kapsel is vroegoggend al deur Heloïse gedoen. Dit omraam haar gesig pragtig. Die geheel prentjie lyk versorgd en afgerond. Presies soos wat sy dit wou gehad het.

“Ek is ‘n wenner.” Herhaal sy haar daaglikse mantra.

“Niks staan in my pad nie.”

“Ek besit die vermoë om suksesvol te wees.”

“My toekoms is nou. My drome manifesteer vandag. Ek is die beste bate vir Greeff, Van Ryhn en Hoekstra Prokureurs.” Tevrede streel sy oor haar klere. Die dae van hartseer is verby. Weg is die versukkelde vrou wat altyd in haar man se skadu moes bly. Sy het verander in ‘n pragtige vlinder.

“Binnekort sal jou naam ook op die bord verskyn: Greeff, Van Ryhn, Hoekstra en Mulder Prokureurs.” Sy kan al die naamplaat sien en sy glimlag vir haar eie beeld. Sy besef dit kan ‘n geruime tyd wees voor dit realiseer maar sy kan nou al droom.  Op daardie oomblik dring ‘n sonstraal die kamer binne en dit voel asof sy op ‘n verhoog staan met die hoofligte op haar gefokus. Sy straal.

“Jy is dinamies, Marieta Mulder.” Verspot gee sy ‘n kniebuiging aan haarself en lag vrolik. Sy kyk dan na die horlosie teen die muur en besef dat dit tyd is om te gaan. Sy tel haar swart leer-aktetas op – ‘n geskenk van haar ouers toe sy die toelatingseksamen tot die Balie geslaag het.  Maak seker sy het alles en stap by die voordeur uit. Met ‘n defnitiewe klik sluit die deur agter haar. Vir Marieta is dit die mooiste klank. Die deur simboliseer haar onafhanklikheid asook haar nuwe lewe. Sy het al die negatiewe gebeuretenisse agter gelaat en bewys sy kan dit doen. Sy moes baie brûe oorbrug om tot hier te kom. Die feit dat sy op pad is na die grootste Prokureurs firma in die stad, vir haar laaste onderhoud is ‘n groot oorwinning. Sy het gedroom van hierdie dag vandat sy 18 jaar oud was. Dit het haar 30 jaar gevat, maar sy het dit gemaak. Sy is op die regte plek.

Marieta stap na haar geparkeerde motor onder die afdak in die kompleks, een van die gegoede buurte in Pretoria. Met ‘n vinnige druk van die knoppie ontsluit sy die kattebak en plaas haar aktetas binne en druk die bak toe. Elke stap vat haar nader na haar toekoms en opgewondenheid bruis deur haar. Sy voel lig en vry en sy glimlag vir haar weerkaatsing in die motorvenster.

‘n Vinnige kyk na agter ry sy agteruit. Vir oulaas kyk sy na haar beeld in die truspieëltjie. Die vrou wat terug kyk is professioneel. Elke haar op sy plek. Met ‘n rustige verandering van ratte volg sy die geplaveide pad na die hoofhek toe. Sy word vriendelik gegroet deur die dag sekuriteit en trek haar kaart deur die kontrole paneel. Die hek swaai geruisloos oop en sy ry stadig vorentoe. By die ingang stop sy en wag vir ‘n geleentheid om by die verkeer aan te sluit. Die oomblik wat dit skoon genoeg is sluit sy aan by die oggend verkeer en volg die padgebruikers op ‘n veilige afstand.

Terwyl Marieta ry herhaal sy die motiverende woorde tot by die kantoorgebou in die middestad. Sy was nog nooit so goed voorbereid vir ‘n onderhoud soos op daardie oomblik nie. Alles het net reg gevoel.

By die moderne toonbank, ‘n groot bos blomme het die plek opgekikker, meld sy aan en na ‘n vinnige gesprek met die ontvangsdame volg sy die sekretaresse na die raadsaal waar die vennote vir haar wag.

“Mev. Mulder, welkom terug.” Groet die jongste van die drie vennote haar. Ferm neem hulle hande en groet mekaar soos ou kennisse: “Asseblief noem my Marieta.” Die ander twee mans groet haar ook vriendelik en ‘n paar konvensionele vrae word gevra wat haar dadelik op haar gemak stel. Koppies koffie word onmiddelik voor hulle neergesit en die sekretaresse trek die deur agter haar toe.

Die onderhoud was amptelik aan die gang en elke prokureur het vertel wat hy verwag van die nuwe junior prokureur. Doktor Greeff, die oudste van die drie, het haar ingelig oor die visie van die maatskappy. Marieta het aandagtig geluister en elke vraag flink beantwoord. Daarna word haar vergoedingspakket bespreek. Haar oë rek met die aanbod en sy glimlag tevrede. ‘n Geleentheid word ook aan haar gegee om vrae te vra en om die beurt beantwoord die mans haar. Die uur was sommer vinnig verby. Hoekstra was die eerste prokureur wat homself verskoon het omdat hy aanstons in die hof moes verskyn.

“Wel Marieta, sien jy kans om saam met die klomp te werk?” vra Greeff minder formeel en sy lag gemaklik; bly dat die onderhoud tot ‘n einde gekom het.

“Defnitief Mnr Greeff. Dit sal vir my ‘n groot eer wees om saam met u en die span te werk.” Alhoewel hulle genoem het dat sy hulle op hul name kan noem het sy tog gevoel dat dit heeltemal onvanpas sal wees en het gebly by die formele aanspreekvorm.

“In daardie geval sien ons jou môreoggend.” Marieta se hart spring in haar keel. Het sy reg gehoor. Sy het die werk gekry. Vir ‘n oomblik was sy stomgeslaan maar antwoord vinnig. “Beslis, ja. Dankie Mnr Greeff.”

“Die besluit was eintlik maklik. Jou Professore het met die grootste lof van jou gepraat en ons sou dom wees om jou vir ons opposisie te los. Welkom aan boord.”

“Baie dankie meneer.” Sy groet albei die mans en verlaat die vertrek eerste. Al die pad na haar voertuig toe voel dit asof sy sweef. Sy het dit gedoen. Sy het dit wraggies gedoen.

“Marieta?” roep iemand haar naam en sy draai om: “Ek is Marieta.” Beantwoord sy die persoon. ‘n Skoot knal so naby dat sy nie anders as om te koes nie. Eensklaps brand haar bors soos vuur en sy druk daarteen. Geskok kyk sy na haar hand. Diè is rooi bevlek met haar bloed en voor sy nog tot verhaal kon kom val sy slap op die plaveisel neer.

(C)LynelleClark2017

Die storie verskyn in GedagteKringe, ‘n Afrikaanse bundel.

Multi-coloured perceptions

Multi-coloured perceptions

A revived article that appeared in The Inflectionist in May 2016.

Reading this article and bringing in some changes, it amazes me how far I had come in the five years since I have written it. It gives you a clear perception of yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Multi-coloured perceptions in 2016

The last couple of months were exciting, although still in the sense that I wrote nothing my life had undergone some twists, each opportunity a learning curve. A discovery of me.

As a single mature woman, I realized my vulnerability. Before it, I lived in a very safe cocoon, allowing others to think for me. Since then, I made the bold step to stand on my own, taking responsibility for myself. Circumstances, the people and culture I lived in shaped my understanding of life. In short, I realized I wasn’t street smart to face the many opinions through the people I met. The way they perceived me and the way I perceived them was so different that I was often more shocked than not.

Until then, I perceived people in black and white with little or no grace towards them. Now those unyielding glasses had fallen away, and my awareness of life changed to multi-colour spectacles. Allowing room not only for my own mistakes but those I’ve met.

Because of this life isn’t rigid or set-in-stone but a kaleidoscope of laughter and passion, where I discover new opportunities at every corner. Venturing into the unknown to find incredible prospects and beautiful things along the way. I’m amazed at my boldness as I walk into places I would not have dreamed to do previously and made friends. My pioneer spirit revelling in the new person emerging from the cocoon.

It is okay to be vulnerable.

In my vulnerability, I’ve learned to trust my gut. I made several mistakes when I disobeyed that little voice who diligently watched over me. While doing this, I learned to have fun, laughing more than I did in a long time. I learned that it’s okay to mess up—no longer do I chastise myself in doing so—and eat some humble pie, but all of that taught me valuable skills to use in my daily life and work environment. I work with people every day and I experience the good, the bad and the ugly all in one week. We have different perceptions but when finely tuned in—making the effort—the ugly turns out beautiful, the bad good and the good sometimes bad. Life is a fine balance between them all.

In 2016, my love life had its own challenges, but I found it easier to compromise with the challenges which would have driven me up the wall prior to my own experiences. Again, it had to do with those colourful glasses that replaced the strictness. It had given me a better understanding of the situation. Maybe it is the streaks of grey dusting my hair… But life prepared me for the circumstances I had faced.

Patience wasn’t my biggest attribute, and I was very demanding when I felt I didn’t receive my due. Walking around with a sour face in utter silence. I’d learned to stand back, access, and wait. Slow to anger became another characteristic that had emerged from it all when I had to deal with the relationship I was in at the time, and its challenges. Although similar in our thought process, there were things we saw differently, and of course, each of us was in different stages of adjustment after a divorce.

When going through a traumatic time, you need to find your balance on your own. We had to learn to accommodate each other. At the end, it drove us apart. Although we tried to accommodate each other, the pressure of life didn’t give us the opportunity to do so. Financial pressure, distance and viewpoints sank the ship before it could port.

When two people meet, two worlds should come together effortlessly. Willing to work through the obstacles while they make a new life. Setting aside some old habits to accommodate new ones while remaining true. It is a change process as you find meaning in all the newness.

Perception changes each time you change.

What I really want from life while incorporating another human being into it without forgetting who I am.

The moment a relationship is part of the equation, you have another perception. One where you are faced with the old but wanting to do the new. Because of this, uncertainty becomes something I face often. Making life and any futuristic plans a confusing display of emotions and thoughts. Unsure of the next day’s offering.

I have learned to step back, reflect, re-evaluate before I say or do something that ultimately could destroy me.

In a second or third relationship, more work goes into it; today I realize it for the first time. Maybe I knew it before the process began, but it took a broken relationship to come to terms with it.

If you are in a relationship—maybe you still experience the beauty of it, or maybe you are in pain about it. I can only say, hold on. Take a step. Consider your life. Only you can make that choice.

I wish I can tell you it will be easier, but obstacles are difficult to overcome. Especially if there is one person in a team of two. Timing is everything. When to leave. When to stay. It comes at a cost. It is seldom that we take the cost into account. Maybe I could have walked away sooner (before my heart became attached). I stayed because I invested so much of myself in the relationship that it felt wrong. To walk away would have left me empty.

That emptiness is a terrible thing to experience. To settle means we have given up. To settle means you stopped loving yourself. To settle means you lose.

Passionate perceptions.

I never appreciated my passionate side. I never thought passion would help me to lose control. It became a drug I enjoyed to the point of shame and self-loathing. It took me a while to forgive myself. Personally, passion makes me vulnerable to life and relationships which created its own challenges. Yes, I had fun, yes, I was more inebriated than in all of my life while doing these things. When the one goes in (alcohol) the other falls away (clothes) and with it your consciousness and self-respect. It was a time of discovery.

In this stage, I’ve learned more about myself as I let go of old and wrong thought patterns. The price to find my balance high. However, I adapt so that I won’t get lost again.

It became another learning curve.

With all this said I simply want to leave you with the thought: Don’t be afraid to live, to dream, to love and yes even to make mistakes.

To be true to yourself takes determination and courage and you might be lonely, not sure about the choices or even the next step but looking at the bigger picture you get to know your own strengths. Discovering a world that would accept you for who you are. Your perceptions once again shaped by circumstances, people and culture. It seems it is an ongoing learning experience. The only way to move forward is to be yourself. Do what you love. 

Find your place. Leave all the crutches and discover who you can be.

Be true to you.

©LynelleClark2021

Creative Life Coaching

GOALS

  • To bring you closer to your Source.
  • To stay connected with your Source.
  • To discover your creative path.
  • To hold you accountable to your goals.
  • To grow in the comfort of your home.
  • Learn to play.
  • To give yourself permission to create.
  • To build a better future.

Let us connect and discover how we can help you create your own creative path. 

For any advice, help or coaching contact me. 

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