I used to be a terrible sceptic, but that all changed after my daddy's passing in 2013 - and for some reason, there's been a significant spike in my experiences since - especially these last few months.
20 August 2018
I had a heartbreaking argument with a friend who ended up 'cursing' me after I called her out on her numerous lies - always claiming she'd never said this or that. I said God may strike me if I'm lying, and her response was that God should strike me, he should strike me dead.
Days after I was still struggling to come to terms with her outburst, breaking down sobbing, thinking she not only called me a liar, but placed a death wish on me? I need to talk to someone about this, but I'm a very private person, so it festers, and the crying and feelings of hopelessness don't let up.
Do I deserve this because perhaps I'm a sh! Tty person? The only thing I know for sure is that I don't knowingly tell a lie - especially not one I feel will make me look good in other peoples' eyes. I'm too damn old to want to impress others and I can only imagine how tiring it must be to pretend being someone else.
I just realised I do lie. I do often lie knowingly - when someone asks me how I'm doing and I say I'm fine, despite my body being assaulted with pain. Isn't everyone guilty of that type of white lie?
6 September 2018
I'm at my local clinic to collect my monthly supply of medication. The place is packed, as usual, with more than a few disgruntled people voicing their displeasure at the waiting time. I'm not the most patient person, but I'm grateful for the free medication, so I sit and wait patiently, only raising my voice when someone is being rude or unreasonable, feeling ashamed at their lack of manners or gratitude.
The place is noisy, and it's difficult to even hear yourself think. Thank goodness they've installed a new system that announces your number and the window to collect your meds, at a volume that doesn't get drowned out by the raised voices in the overcrowded waiting area.
My folder's been collected so it's safe for me to stretch my legs. I'm thirsty and there are several informal traders outside the clinic peddling their products, but first I need the toilet.
At the swinging toilet door, someone knocks into me as I step inside and I turn to confront my accoster - but there's nobody there. In fact, the door in still open and when I pop my head out, the corridor is empty - no doors or corridors someone could have slipped into. Ok, perhaps a part of the door struck me.
I'm at the basin, at the far end of the toilet, washing my hands when I feel a cool brisk breeze passing by me, as though someone strode pass me - close by me. Probably a gust of wind had come in from the open windows? But it came from the direction of the door, and the door is closed. All the cubicle doors are open so I'm alone in there, and there's no-one else at the row of basins by the mirror (which in itself is strange, as there is ALWAYS someone (or several ladies) in the toilet.
As I turn to leave, my back to the windows now, I hear a disembodied voice, a gentle female voice: "She will answer for her deeds and words."
I feel as though I'm eavesdropping on a private conversation, and I feel an odd kind of peace come over me. Shame, someone's being comforted after being hurt by something someone did or said. I can relate.
As I'm walking toward the door, I hear the voice again. "Don't you worry, Apo, you're good people."
A feeling of surreal calm, warmth, and peace envelope me. I muttered a hasty 'thank you' and scrambled from the ladies' toilet, slumping down onto the closest empty chair. I've taken to carrying my diary with me wherever I go - just in case I needed to record something.
I have not seen my friend since August 20, and despite my newfound peace and serenity, I'm not convinced that I'm ready to face her. Should I reach out first or should I let her make the first move?