So where are we now?

I looked back, and it’s been three years since I last posted. Honestly, I didn’t think it had been that long, and I have no idea where to start.

A lot has happened. I have a child—well, a young adult (still my child)—who is one week away from completing his matric finals. MIND BLOWN!!! I can’t be the only parent who has those moments of how on earth did we get here? Where did the time go? and how did we go from non-stop trauma responses to where we are today?

A young adult who has made me so incredibly proud. To have come this far, when there was once a time I would ask myself every day how we were ever going to reach this point. But we did—and we have—and I cannot stress enough how proud I am of my child.

Independent, albeit a tad socially awkward, he has a solid group of friends. He navigated his first long-term relationship and the subsequent heartbreak. He’s made it through his matric year with very little support, as an online student no less. He has a good heart and is always willing to help others. I am just incredibly proud of him.

My youngest has just turned 12 and has officially entered the teen era. I joke daily that we rarely see him outside of his cocoon, or sanctum, which he has created within his room during the week. He kind of reminds me of an old man, to be honest. He has his daily routine: he comes home from school, jumps in the bath, and then retreats—with lunch, a cup of coffee, and school books in hand. He dives into his bed with the fan on, and that’s where he stays until we come home or he is pulled into a late afternoon game by a friend. He is complex to say the least, a social butterfly who is perfectly content to hold his own company when he chooses.

On the other hand, when it comes to weekends, I feel like I’ve become a full-time taxi service because this child has a bigger social life and calendar than anyone else in the household. The thing is, I can’t really complain when he brings home straight A’s and spends his weekends outdoors—playing with friends and embracing the essence of childhood in all its glory.

And my middle llama—well, he remains my llama. The one who reminds me most of myself at his age in so many ways. The laughter he brings into my life every day is something I could never replace. He competed in the Western Province trials last year and achieved Western Province colours for running. He made it all the way to the finals, but had to drop out due to shock when the temperature dropped to just a few degrees, and the kids were still forced to run in shorts and t-shirts. It was a harsh blow, and he came home heartbroken—but I am incredibly proud of him for pushing through and achieving as much as he did.

On my front, it’s been a time of learning—the difference between what lifts us up and what brings us down. It’s been a hard lesson, and it’s come with many difficult life decisions. But I think, and maybe this comes with age, that even though it can be incredibly painful to cut people from your life and make choices you wish you didn’t have to, in the end, it’s an act of self-love and acknowledgment. A lesson in setting boundaries and knowing that you can and will move forward.

I recently completed a business degree at the ripe old age of 37. I never thought I’d get here, or that I’d achieve this, or even have the opportunity to do so. It has opened the door to a career and purpose I never imagined entering into—and it’s something I genuinely enjoy. It suits my OCD and personality perfectly.

I’m also well into my health journey era, and I have to say that after many years of yo-yo dieting and disordered eating, this journey has been about finding peace, strength, and health—separate from weight loss and free from toxic ideas about meeting society’s expectations. This has been such a different experience, and it’s something I’d like to talk about more in-depth going forward.

I lost my ouma this year, which was very hard. To be honest, I don’t really see much of my extended family anymore. I tend to keep to my small circle, and that’s the way I like it. However, losing my ouma sparked something in me—a moment of what ifs, a flood of sweet memories mixed with sadness at the thought that it’s not just about me. It’s also about my children, and whether they might one day want to know their extended family—to understand where they come from, to hear the stories and feel connected to the roots that shaped us. It made me realise how quickly time passes, and how easily those family ties can fade if we don’t make the effort to keep them alive.