I’m fucken’ tired of the new normal. I am sitting here, drink in hand, watching the president address the country. This, the umpteenth of his addresses, just adds on to my frustration. I have been in a dark place lately. Nowhere nearly as inescapable as i’ve been in the past, but dark nonetheless.
I am almost always convinced I have Covid-19. These days, a congested nose sends me reeling and having panic attacks, convinced that I am sick. I mean I haven’t seen a doctor since 2017. Whose to say i’m not? My poor partner must be exasperated. “You’re fine” has become his go to phrase whenever he senses my panic rising. I can feel him getting tired of always reassuring me.
Oh, I’m bald now. I had the bae shave my gorgeous (but almost matted) 4C hair. See, I was going to go to a salon but the fear won. How do bald people even sleep? I am cinstantly cold. Also, because I am Bigfoot’s closest living relative, my hair’s already growing back, so putting on shirts and jerseys is daunting.
I took several selfies today and I hated all of them. I don’t recognise myself. Maybe years of hard partying have finally caught up with a nigga. I used to be a regulation hottie. The other day, I went through my Instagram and was filled with such intense sadness. I miss early 20s Tshego. He was so creative and funny. The other aspects of his life might have been shit but he was a good kid who put himself out there.
Don’t get me wrong, my life, currently, is amazing. I have a wonderful partner who loves and motivates me, a healthier, more fun and loving relationship with my mother and family and believe it or not, I’m drinking less and less. I cook and bake now, plan what the family (the bae and I) will get up to daily and basically living my best kept spouse dream (still actively job hunting. Tell your dads to hire me. I write).
I just miss having a creative outlet. I miss believing that I am a capable writer. I read my shit and cringe. I’ll probably cringe at this tomorrow when the gin leaves my system.
I’ve been listening to songs and albums from my youth. Emiliana Torrini’s Tookah is a definite fave. I don’t think I appreciated it enough as a 23 year old partying and sexing it up. I just thought I was “cool and alternative”. This was also the time I thought toxicity made relationships cool. Oh to be young and full of faux angst! Torrini’s album is chockful of gems like ‘Home‘, which is one of the most beautiful love songs you’ll ever hear (You’re a roar in my heart
A song that won’t leave my mind) and ‘Autumn Sun‘, a song about an affair which hits different when you’re in your 30s. When you’re young, affairs are adventures you embark upon because hey, you can bounce onto the next dick. But when you’re 30 and you’re trying to build a life with a gorgeous man with questionable communication skills, affairs, whether his or your own are a scary thing that could ruin everything.
I really am tired of the new normal but I accept it. I think it really puts me at ease when I see everyone in a mask and socially distancing but that doesn’t always happen because South Africa. I don’t watch the news as much as I did at the beginning of the pandemic but I am actively watching out for news about the vaccine. I’m sure we all miss outside.
Stay safe, kids.
Tsheggy. 