Mental Block

I am feeling better since work has formally started. I've befriended my neighbour and the people at work are slowly getting to know me. Japan is home now - with bills to pay, places to travel and toilet paper to buy. One of the first things I noticed when I arrived in Japan was that most men carried handbags and purses. I was fascinated. A man standing in a train, full black suit, crisp white shirt, tie-straightened and neat, black shoes-shined and polished. Hair sleeked back, a bulky shiny watch... and then: A matching handbag on arm and matching purse in hand. Fingernails cut, hands seemingly soft to touch and untouched by handywork. Does this man know of a screwdriver, hammer or changing a lightbulb? Standing in supple feminity, a man could be a figurine. Unscathed from the rugged normative masculinity that the western world burdens upon the boys of this world. This a true man, I thought. Secure in his masculinity and unconsciously flaunting his feminity. I am jealous. I ...

Every breath with a whistle from my nose, chest repelling the air I wish to consume, absorb. Heavier each breath. Why must it be like this? Why must I feel like this? Why am I so critical concerning people and myself? I decided to move and live at my own pace. Each day, however, with each social interaction, I find that the pace of others pull me in like a nagging ocean current, dragging me towards the unmovable rock in my line of sight. At that point I stand up and get out of the water...out of the pool of social interaction that make me question my existence in that group from whence I came. I decided to change. To stop being cooped up in my own silence. To stop being indecisive. To stop being the shy person I inately am. To stop being so guarded. To be more like the self I wish  to become. This shall not remain a wish. I used to be all these amazing things. I miss that person. I miss being the person who would rally a crowd on a sports day. Who would show hundreds of k...

I've moved. Forward, away, onward, on. At my own pace. I am still moving. Slowly, breathing, small steps, diving into the deep end. I live in Japan now. I feel like the transition should have been a bit more challenging, however, I feel like I've done this before. This is normal to me. I'm surrounded by strangers in a new place, but I feel like I belong. Awkwardly belonging to a place that seemed to have accepted me. I've met people from different parts of South Africa and different parts of the world..I've become acquainted with them and they have become acquainted with me. It feels like I should continue to be awkward, but I am not. This place of moving and growing is a strange place to be. At this point I am living my dream. And I am proud of myself for taking that step. I have decided to move forward and be the best version of myself that I can be. However. With moving your life across the ocean, comes some manifestation of stress. It is ...

The past is important. It is a place that one can learn from. It is a place that will always exist and one cannot run away from it. I have always looked back in my life; looking back helped me make decisions, it helped me confirm decisions, it showed what worked and what didn't work, and it gave me a frame of reference. Today, I helped my mother do a health assessment; and I could not help, but be reminded of what my personal health record looks like. Now my mom is recommended health guidance for some areas of her life and moving forward, in whatever task she takes on in the rest of her life, her health stats loom over her. And the same goes for me. As I grow older, I'm faced with things that I can change now so my health won't be negatively affected later. For example, last year I started smoking on and off, and I still do. I should probably stop so my risk of heart disease can decline now; then there's the sex stuff, is having sex, really worth the risks...and t...