UNSTOPPABLE

TRIGGERS

I am reminded that I am alone in the flesh but never in Spirit. Today, once again, I felt the turmoil of solitude creeping in. As I unpack these emotions, I reflect on their triggers. I am surrounded by friends who have their families, while my only family here in Cape Town is Milan and Mika. My children have their own lives, anchored in the familiarity of two parents and a city they call home. I, too, once embraced this place as home, believing I had built a foundation of family until life unfolded differently.

Now, I find myself in a space of lack, unable to afford even an Uber ride. The trains only run during the day and early evenings, further restricting my movement. A tightening in my chest and throat signals the weight of my emotions. Everywhere I look, I see others with strong family ties, close-knit bonds, and a sense of belonging. My entire family is in Johannesburg, living their lives, seemingly untouched by the distance between us. Where did the chain break? Family is a powerful link, and I feel its absence profoundly.

When my mother used to visit, she was my anchor, my backup, my immediate family. I never felt truly alone then. But now, reality has hit hard I have no income, no car, and seemingly nothing tangible to hold onto. My potential funders are within reach, yet I cannot even afford a plane or bus ticket to meet them. The exhaustion of financial impermanence weighs on me heavily. This is a test, and though I don’t know when or how, I must pass it.

Would my life be different if I had a stable income, a car, and an active role in my family circles? Of course. I remember a time when money was not an issue, when I had the freedom to move and engage without barriers. Amazing things are happening around me, yet I find myself asking: What is my lesson in all of this? I celebrate others, but do I pity myself? Am I unique in this experience, or are there others who have walked this path?

People assume I have it all together. I am stoic because I was raised to carry myself with dignity, even when I am breaking inside. Few believe my struggles, and even fewer expect me to speak of the impermanence in my life. Yet, despite my challenges, my strength rises. I recall the blissful moments of clarity, of ease, of understanding myself fully. But slowly, fear crept in. Doubt followed, and soon anxiety and panic attacks took hold. These feelings consumed my mind until I rediscovered the power of audio.

I was in Radio Marketing and Sales; creativity and innovation were my tools to claim market share. I didn’t realise how much audio could heal me until recently. Therapy, too, became a guiding force, thanks to a remarkable therapist who understood my spiritual responsibilities. Some things are beyond my control, but my faith remains steadfast.

Today, I feel alone again. I observe my friends, my sister, my cousins, and their families. My own circle is scattered mainly in Johannesburg. My children are here, but to them, I am their mother, always available. Yet, they will leave the nest soon. When they are gone, I will embrace the quiet and solitude. My relationship with my eldest is one of souls and spirituality. Why, then, can I not heal the web around his mind and eyes? I long for a deep, honest, and open relationship with him. God, this is in Your hands.

I refuse to be shattered. Though I have crumbled before, I have risen again. Perhaps I place too many expectations on myself and on God. By now, I thought I would be further along. But am I crying over what He is still preparing for me? Have I been holding myself back? No. I challenge my abilities because I must wield power and knowledge over my own life.

I have tried to build relationships with my sisters, but distance persists, and I respect that. Instead, I will cultivate family values with my children, hold close the relatives who remain near, and give love joyfully.I feel bounded by limitations. I wish to go out, yet barriers exist. Who remains my extended family? My two cousin brothers, my aunt, and friends at large. I am broken, but not into pieces. Impatience and exhaustion cloud my vision. I am weary of lack and scarcity. Shame seeps in because those who help me might wonder why I don’t simply find a job just to feed myself and my two teenage children. Perhaps they also question my family ties. Where was my family when I was in ICU?

Am I to blame? Is this why the absence of blood relatives triggers me so deeply? Who do I turn to my sick aunt, Koko, my uncle? Have I become the perpetual receiver, with no end in sight?

“Ask, and it will be given.” Can I at least work for it and earn my way forward? I am letting go. Surrender is a process that unfolds in its own time. I have allowed God’s guidance to take precedence in my life. Each day, I follow what is presented before me and allow the Holy Spirit to lead the way. I will live this life to the best of my ability. My focus remains on Him—Psalm 121, Psalm 20, James 5, Isaiah, and Paul’s letters to Timothy remind me to trust in the divine path laid before me.

For now, I will no longer assume. I will hold fast to positivity and ensure my foundation remains unshaken. I will stand still—just like my quiet soul.