There are weeks, like these past 3 or 4, when I'm navigating minefields in many of the conversations I'm having. From colleagues who feel entitled to favours to those who don't communicate well with peers. To business partners who want to dictate how and when we carry out our obligations to those who like to triangulate. To my nephew who wants designer socks when I'm struggling to meet back to school expenses to friends who make promises and don't deliver. Once upon a time, I would rather have broken out in hives than air it out and is grateful along life's highway I learnt to be overcome the fear and discomfort. Somehow, though, the mental gymnastics prior to each conversation is painful and exhausting. Does anyone out there have a remedy?
Time really does heal that I can now type the subject without breaking down. Mum was diagonised with Stage IV rectal cancer in July last year and passed away 5 months later on 17th December. The days after are a blur, of tasks and visitors, tears and a constant hum of pain in the background. 2019 Christmas was the first without Mum and George - we all unlocked a new level of pain that day. I'm trudging along , realised fighting the tears is a losing battle and when they show up in public I find a corner or bathroom . This Saturday will be my first time to go home since returning to Kampala last month. Wambui, my sis, was there last week and she couldn't stand it for more than 2 days. Please say a prayer for me. I need it
On 31st August 2015, I arrived in Jinja ,Eastern Uganda. After the hustle and bustle of Nairobi, this source of the Nile town is exactly what I needed. I knew no-one there and relished the opportunity to discover who I am and what I stand for. Jinja has been good to me and my daughter Kami. It was a 3 year personal retreat and we both loved every moment of it. Last week on Friday I packed my bags and is now settling in Kampala. I'm excited and oh so nervous.Have no idea what this capital city holds for me . Guess there's only one way to find out, right?
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