Memories that Tear you Open

Memory Bank

“Memories are bullets. Some whizz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.”

Richard Kadrey,Kill the Dead

Recounting memories can be an arduous task. You are awash with either waves of joy or pain, which can leave you drained. It is similar to sleeping on a therapist’s couch. Only, this is self-healing, processing your feelings and emotions, then learning from them, and moving on to a better place.

Life throws you curve balls sometimes, and how you deal with it is a reflection of your mental health state. One such year that stands out in my memory is 2018. It was the year that nearly proved to be the straw that broke this camel’s back.

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It was especially hard when it came after a year of merriment and joy. We were still riding on a high of getting my…

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The Story of An Angel

Another limb fell from our family tree and  I desperately tried  to stay strong but fighting my tears proved to be futile for,  little Yousha’a, you had managed to wrap around my heart and carve your name on my soul.

I know I didn’t get to hold you or even whisper a quiet “I Love You”,  but every day my  first  and last prayer was for you. Selfishly, I wished you to push through but my prayer was always for the outcome that would be easiest and best for you. And, as much as painful as it is missing you,  I know that right now you’re in heaven,  with nana spoiling you rotten.

I feel like I missed too much of your life to accurately write about it, so instead I thought I’d leave your story to your mummy to tell…


I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy at 12:05 on Saturday morning, the 3rd of March, 2018.

His due date was the 26th, today, and we had a caesarian planned for the 13th, but in true anarchist fashion, the little sprocket chose to make an appearance out of the blue 10 days early. We had chosen not to know his gender before birth, so that was our second surprise for the night.


via Yousha’a – CHD Journey of a little Angel Heart Warrior

Stay Smiling Little Angel,


A letter I need to send to Heaven…

Growing up, I was one of the blessed people to have two full sets of loving, doting grandparents. All of them attended my wedding with tears of joy and proud smiles on their faces.

My grandparents are a giant part of my everyday life. I lived in the same house as my dad’s parents and my mum’s parents were only two quiet streets away. And until the day I got married, I popped in and out of both homes and often spent copious amounts of time soaking up as much of their time as possible.

They were the four unwavering pillars of strength, on whom I relied on for advice, guidance and love. Four people who played an integral part of my life. Four amazingly wise people who taught me more about life than any school lesson.

I married in a different country and moved away from home but I kept contact with my grandparents, regularly messaging or calling them and they did the same. It became a habit to randomly send an “I miss you” when they popped into my mind during the day.

Never once did I think that one of them might leave me.

But, 22 years into life and a year after getting married, I was forced to whisper a teary good bye to one of my pillars.

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Swinging on the Monkey Bars

There are some authors who strike a chord deep within their reader and for me, C.S. Lewis has always been that author, both with his impeccably written fantasy but mostly when he somehow tapped into reality and wrote little gems like this one, “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.”

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Poisoned Mind

There she sat, beautiful and pristine. Some would say she was an angel. She lured you in. Whispered heavenly nights and even brighter days. She knew her power and used it to her advantage. She was a goddess and you fell at her feet whether you wanted to or not. She was the potion master and no one left her with their mind in tact. She decided when it was enough. She chose what concoction would poison your mind.

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“Hi, again…” It had been a long time since we had spoken (each caught up in our own lives and still trying to process the parts of the story she had already told) and today (perhaps because we were meeting in person this time), I could see the shadows in her eyes. Unlike before, today her eyes showed how much she was struggling. Shadows fluttered behind them like dark fairies slowly staining her usually strong exterior and demanding she address them.

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I know I’ve been away for a long time but writing the rest of this story was even harder than writing the first part. It took me three weeks before I could go through my notes again and start working through the horrors she had disclosed to me. My brain simply could not comprehend what had happened.

I could not put the strong, independent woman I knew in the same box as the scared, broken sixteen year old whose soul laid in tattered shreds. It sounds melodramatic to say the least but as this story unfolds I guarantee you will also be wondering how on earth anyone could survive such a horrific and traumatizing teenage experience.

She had this deadly calm look in her eyes (the mug of hot chocolate long time finished but still softly held in her hands like protection) as she prepared to tell me the rest of her story…

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Sexual Violence and Rape: No More White Socks Part 1

I’ve never felt so helpless researching or writing a story as I did with this story. It took me twice as long as it normally does to write and I’m still not sure I’ve managed to capture the essence of the story.

The strength of the human spirit astounded me as I listened to this tale unfold and realised how many times this innocent soul was shattered and fought back. This is the story of a girl whose fate was decided by everyone around her. This is the story of the cycle of shame.

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Sexual Violence and Rape: The Family Girl

This is a story of a girl who sacrificed her sanity to protect her family from falling apart. Please understand that the victim is still plagued by the ordeal and for the first time in almost two decades since the incident has she decided to finally talk about her experience.

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