Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining

So I'm still alive...🙃

After the trauma and perpetual anxiety of the past three weeks, I'm a firm believer in "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger".

I made it through my dad's funeral, which surprisingly came with much pain, although we weren't close at all. I guess loss is always traumatic in one way or another. Maybe I was grieving the lost opportunity of a father-daughter relationship, the memories we could've created but never did. And now that chance is gone forever. The tragedies of life...

Like a seed dying and going into the ground in order to produce fruit, what my father failed to do in life, he did in death. Sadly, his passing away is what brought me and his family together. I've gained an amazing and loving family. There's so many of them, they're like a whole nation of abaThembu and I haven't even met half of them...

After my bitter-sweet long weekend burying my dad, I got back to Durban feeling like a brand new person, ready to conquer the world because of my newly-found identity and sense of belonging.

And like the never-ending horror movie I sometimes feel my life is, my first day back at work ended in drama and tears.

Because I had spent money I hadn't budgeted for on petrol, food contribution etc. during that funeral preparation week, I decided I needed to be frugal and save where possible. One way I could do that was to take public transport instead of Ubering to and from work which is only 15 minutes from my place.

And so after work I took a taxi home. So I stay right by Davenport Square in Glenwood, a trendy and vibey neighbourhood full of young professionals and students, it being so close to universities and the CBD. Naturally such a place would be a hot spot for crimes such as robberies and muggings.

My road is usually busy with cars and people walking up and down. But on this particular Monday, there wasn't a soul in sight as I hurried home after jumping off the taxi about two minutes from my place.

It was around 4:30pm in broad daylight when suddenly a silver grey Polo Vivo with four men inside stopped right next to me and two of them jumped out and grabbed me. I was literally two gates away from home. I screamed my lungs out when I realized what was happening but held on tightly to my bag which contained my work laptop, phone, ID etc.

I think I'm quite strong for my petite size but even I couldn't win this fight. My first instinct was to fight because I didn't see any weapon pointed at me. But when I found myself halfway into the car because I wouldn't let go of the bag I came to my senses and relented.

The driver had also started reversing the car and was dragging me along as my feet were still on the ground. The guy who held my bag pushed me hard and I finally let go and landed on the pavement as they drove off.

At first I didn't realize I'd gotten hurt and quickly got onto my feet and ran after the car all the while screaming for help. For some reason the car engine switched off long enough for me and some witnesses to see the registration number of the car.

These witnesses were some Uber drivers who were parked by Davenport Square and had heard me screaming and came into my road but it was too late. Some of my neighbours and my housemate came out to see what was happening but unfortunately the perpetrators had gotten away.

One of the Uber drivers offered to take me to the police station where I received no help because I didn't have the serial number of the laptop and phone. I was told to come back the next day. So the fact that I had the car description and number plate meant nothing to them.

It was at the police station that I realized my foot was bleeding and my leg and arm were throbbing with pain. But I just asked the kind Uber driver to take me home.

The past two weeks have been extremely difficult physically and emotionally. In terms of work, I lost some important information and also can't do much work at home as I did before which has added pressure to my work days.

Personally, my anxiety levels have soared. I'm shit-scared of every man I come across on the streets and I've been struggling to sleep soundly. Many other past incidents of being robbed or violated have been triggered and haunt me regularly these days. I'm messing up simple tasks at work and am constantly feeling overwhelmed.

I've had to finally admit to myself that I'm not okay. Now might be a good time to seek professional help before I have another nervous breakdown that lands me in hospital.

Can I take this opportunity to poll you on another matter that's been bothering me. I've had it being said that the reason all these bad things happen to me might be because of some dark cloud over me (because I've never been introduced to my dad's ancestors etc so they're not looking out for me). Do you think there's something to that?

I know a lot of people who also use their mother's surnames, and some don't even know their biological fathers. So does that mean they're bound to bad omens forever?

I've had this spoken over me for years now and maybe subconsciously it's affected me somehow. I've been mugged/robbed more times than I can remember from the time I was in primary school and had my first phone. I've had these freak accidents occuring throughout my life (car accident, fire accident, you name it, I've experienced it, and have the permanent scars as proof and reminders).

I missed months of school in high school with weird sicknesses that no doctor could diagnose. I would literally lose my mind and not know what was going on around me. During one of my weird black-outs I once walked straight into moving traffic but was luckily saved by other people who were at the robot with me.

My grandmother had had enough of these strange episodes and took me to traditional healers. I was stick-thin at that time because I wasn't eating or moving for that matter. The sangoma said I needed to know who my real father was (at that time I thought my "fake dad" was my father). A year later I found out about my biological father and the weird sicknesses and episodes ceased.

I won't even mention the number of failed relationships and attempts to get married. But at least with such things and the insane number of times I've quit jobs and university, I can blame myself for making bad decisions that have had negative repercussions.

It's those weird sicknesses, accidents and ridiculous amounts of robberies/muggings that gnaw at my mind ever so often.

So, my fellow compatriots in this struggle of life, what do you make of this black cloud business? Do you think an introduction to the Mthembu ancestors and adopting their surname could change the trajectory of my life?

Or do you just think I should get psychological intervention to help me deal with the many traumas I've experienced, and then maybe my positive mental state will help me change my own fate? Or is there another perspective I'm missing?

I'll conclude with something I've come to believe amidst life's atrocities. Every cloud has a silver lining, especially those black clouds!