No need to make a plan!

 Zimbabweans have a favourite saying. "we'll make plan". We are very proud of our ability to make a plan. Indeed I have an American friend (who choses to live here) who calls Zimbabwe Make-A-Plan-Land. Given our turbulent political and economic history it is a trait that has stood us in good stead. And for the many, many Zimbabweans, in what we call the Diaspora, who have fled, legally or illegally, to make a new life in other countries all over the world being able to "make a plan" has enabled them to settle successfully into their new homes.

So I "made a plan" to obtain the books that I want to read that are not available here. Amazon and Barnes and Noble do not deliver to Zimbabwe (they probably cant find us on the map!!) so I buy on iBooks. Usually this works well. It is also difficult to buy books or anything for that matter in a currency that is not tradable in the world markets.

Imagine my frustration when Michelle Francl-Donnay's Advent book was only available in the Spanish language version! But undaunted I wrote to the author enquiring when the English version would be available in iBooks. Graciously she promptly wrote back giving me various option in which the book was available. I was in the process of making a plan with my son who is in the diaspora and living an working in the United Kingdom to give me an early birthday present when Michelle generously sent me a copy. 

I was speechless in the face of such generosity but as I have reflected I am also taken-a-back at not having to make a plan at all. And for the first time I wonder if we Zimbabweans don't take our "making a plan" too far....... and if it doesn't close out Grace. Such Grace and Generosity as has been given me recently.

Anxiety

 Anxiety runs in my family like a toxic river.

I began to discover this in reading Grans diaries some years after her death, (my aunt had them transcribed) and being stunned to discover a potent thread of anxiety in them. Grans frantic efforts to quell the tide of anxiety that at times threatened to engulf her were painful to read in light of my own similar daily battles. A devout woman; she seems to have seen the anxiety as a sin and a lack of trust in God. 

My mothers anxiety is something I have only recently begun to comprehend. I suspect it lies at the root of her drinking and violence. Given my own battles with panic attacks and anxiety about nothing (which drives me nuts!) I am forced to rethink Mums behaviour altogether. 

Anxiety blights my life. I am better at managing it now and know what is likely to trigger an attack. Being able to regard it as a mental illness gives me a healthier perspective on it and does not allow me to add fuel to the fire so to speak. I have learned a degree of caring for myself that ameliorates much of the effect of anxiety and does not provide a breeding ground for it. If you had told me years ago that simply getting enough sleep and exercise, that eating plenty of fresh food, that not overworking and getting enough relaxation would ease the anxiety I would have scoffed. But I don't today. I carefully make sure that I do take care of me with out making a fetish of it.

Sadly my eldest son has been put off work (after a torrid time during Covid lockdown when he was retained and many of his colleagues were sent on  furlough) due to anxiety and exhaustion. I know that he has a lifetime journey with our family devil: Anxiety.

Lost words

 There was a time when I wrote every day, whether in my journal or blog or even briefly in my diary but that is long in the past. Words became more and more erratic until they dried up completely. Looking back, I just got tired of constantly explaining myself to myself. My world became more immediate and lived without explanation to myself. I have lived simply, doing each day what needs to be done. My children are grown and left home and in their place I am caring for my elderly mother who has dementia. Sadly she is physically fit and well but she no longer recognizes her own home and sometimes doesn't recall my name. 

As I sit with her, mostly in companionable silence, I have begun to reflect.

A different reflecting from the sometimes agonized reflecting of the past. I am no longer caught up in her alcoholism, or  violent unpredictable behaviour. These aspects of her life are now things of the past. 

We are in a new relationship.

And I have yet to come to grips with it.

                                                       Mum enjoying her gardenia flowers