Isn’t it strange how the things that seem important to us are not always important at all?

I had that strangest dream last night. I was on holiday in Cape Town, playing with Josh’s little sister, when a fly buzzed around us, annoying us. I took out this old plastic toy, something I’ve had since childhood… I don’t even remember what it is as it is part of something, a relic of the past and an object imbued with nostalgia, and pretended to shoot at the fly, making her laugh.

Then I “woke up”, into another day in the dream. My toy was gone. Another family member there had thrown it away. But they didn’t tell me the truth straight away, rather I had to pry it out of them, getting bits and pieces until finally they confessed to breaking it by accident and then throwing it away. As this person evaded every question, I became increasingly angry. Angrier and angrier, I was absolutely livid by the end, when I woke up for real.

I woke from that dream, enraged that this person had so recklessly damaged and discarded my precious… what? Here’s the thing: My subconscious mind had fabricated this old toy with a backstory; actually not so much a backstory but rather the emotional baggage that comes with one. I have no such item. But the anger was real. The attachment was real. Attachment to a thing that never even existed.

So I awoke thinking about that. How often does it happen that things are important to us, but remove them and nothing changes? Or perhaps, we attach meaning and priority and emotional relevance to these things, but these things don’t really matter.

Not even much of an example, but meth used to be important to me. Heck, I couldn’t function without it and couldn’t imagine my life without it. But it’s been nearly eight years and my life is a shitload better without it. Likewise cigarettes. I had to have a smoke first thing after waking up, not to mention all those other times. It seemed so important. Now, just over four months without cigarettes and I can’t say I miss them.

But I wonder… How many other things are there, things I hold onto for nothing? Do we all do this? And I also wonder about the applications of the subconscious mind and suggestibility… If my sleeping mind could concoct something so important, when that thing didn’t exist, is there no application for this? Considering how most of us refuse to change our minds because of biases, imagine what could be done by taking away or introducing such biases to our subconscious minds.

But mostly, I wonder what people might do if they realize how meaningless some of their most important things actually are.

Case in point, I read this article earlier… Honestly I found it difficult to finish. Written by someone who directs music in a church, the article rails against churches who use singers with microphones to lead the worship – because that isn’t the proper way to worship, or something. It starts out well, but as you read on, the elitist sense of self importance and presumptuousness of the writer becomes almost unbearable. Imagine going to so much trouble to say that others aren’t doing their worship right, when worship as far as this atheist understands, is personal? Heck, as an atheist I could tell you the whole thing was a fucking waste of time because god isn’t real, but… Let’s not go there.

What I will say is… question what is important to you. Why is it important? Should it be? We humans do have a bad habit of finding meaning in the meaningless and it would be a godawful shame if you wasted your life devoting it to such things.

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And excuse me if this post seems a little… fragmented? My son keeps interrupting me. I find it difficult to write when my concentrating gets broken. But the interruptions fit today’s topic, since he is important to me. He means very much to me, and this is meaning that’s real.

Life is shit sometimes

I see a friend posted this.

This is an eighty year old man who has had some health issues recently. He’s a good man. Who can blame him for feeling down at this time?

Wish I could comment, but this damn Facebook ban once again. Not that there’s much I could say, but sometimes all we need is some encouragement, a word of sympathy. We all have our struggles and sometimes it all seems like too much. Sometimes we need to be reminded that we are not as alone as it feels and that there are plenty of people out there who care, even some we have never met.

So if you’re like my friend Ken, I’d like to remind you that, yes, life is shit sometimes. But not all the time. It will hopefully get better.

My grandmother spent 13 years in a psychiatric hospital because she had an affair with a married man

I am sick and tired of reading comments online by anti-feminists. Every time a man like me writes anything in support of feminism, there’s a 50/50 chance some arsehole will comment about it being a ploy “to get laid” or some similar bullshit. And by the way, when you make such statements, like a dramatic monologue, your statement reveals details about yourself and your horribly misguided misogynistic view of women. You reveal that you see them not as human beings but as objects to be fucked.

The truth is, there are many reasons why my views have shifted to their current position over the years, but I have always been sympathetic to the plight of women, and the start of all this was the realization of what my grandmother experienced at the hands of society that vilifies women simply for existing and having the same human desires as men.

I don’t know the whole story, but what I do know is this: My grandmother spent 13 years in Valkenberg mental hospital for “insomnia”. The story I was told was that she was raped by her stepfather, and after the rape, she lost her memory and was committed to the psychiatric hospital for 13 years. The “rape” led to her pregnancy and the birth of my mother’s sister. Upon her release, she was raped again, leading to another pregnancy and the birth of my mother.

That was the story my mother believed, but I always had my doubts. First of all, she only went to Valkenberg once, not after the second pregnancy. Secondly, as a father who had a lot of unprotected sex before my son was conceived, I know it takes more than one time to conceive a child, and more than two times to conceive two children.

Recently I heard something that makes the story even more implausible, but at the end of the day, nothing can be proven because all the people involved are long dead. Even my grandfather died when my mother was only three years old, literally run over by a bus because he insisted on riding his bicycle after losing his hearing.

My suspicion is simply that she had an affair and was treated like nothing, treated like a subhuman because she was in love with the wrong person. Or she was indeed a victim of rape, and was punished rather than the man who raped her. I’ll never know the truth but I do know that the treatment of women was abhorrent back then, and is still bad today.

Things have improved over the years, and I do not believe that a woman in this country could be locked away for 13 years for the same reasons today. But we still have a long way to go. I used to lie awake at night, trying to imagine how my grandmother, who was one of the kindest people I ever knew, managed to cope with being locked up in an institution for thirteen years.

So don’t project your macho dudebro bullshit on me.

Regarding teaching addiction awareness to children

I just read an interesting article on this subject, and I urge everyone to check it out.

My own view on addiction awareness for my son is something I’ve been passionate about for quite a few years now. Granted, it is because of my own struggles with addiction, but I think it could be useful to teach all children about the dangers of addiction. Anyway, this is important to me because…

In rehab, I was told that addiction is 60% hereditary. I don’t know how factual that is, but if there is any genetic/hereditary component to addiction, then I must presume that there is a possibility my son has a predisposition to addiction. (i.e. The probability that should he choose to use a habit-forming drug at some point in his life, there is a risk that he would become addicted and have similar problems to those I’ve had, a risk greater than average.)

And… that’s enough for me. The possibility that he has a predisposition to it is enough for me to do whatever I can to ensure that won’t happen one day, and the safest way that I can imagine to deal with this, is make him aware not only of this predisposition, but also of the harmful consequences of addiction. If he knows well in advance of the dangers, I hope this will prevent him from ever taking that first hit. I have this picture in my head…. Josh at a party one day when he’s a teenager or maybe in his early twenties, and all the “cool kids” are doing cocaine. My objective is that if he finds himself in that position, he will choose not to do that first line. (And should he make the wrong choice, I hope I’m still around to help him. But him making the right choice first time is the primary objective.)

Of course, I did get some addiction awareness education in school, and it didn’t really help me. I vaguely remember some videos and stuff from back then, but I wasn’t really paying attention, and all it did was leave me curious about drugs. But I don’t recall ever knowing about the consequences of addiction, and that’s where my focus is when it comes to Josh.

Interestingly, I had a recent conversation with a counsellor and Josh, and they seemed to think my telling him everything is not such a good idea, but I will have another chance to speak to them as well as a therapist this coming Saturday, so let’s see how this goes…

And although it’s been an awful year, there is one positive thing about him having seen how unstable his mother is, since she lived with us for several months. It isn’t something I wanted, but at least he has seen how crazy people can get. Sorry M, but you taught Josh something and made an example for all the wrong reasons.

Finally my life seems to be back on track

Just to follow-up on my recent personal posts…

Life has been shitty for me, but it seems to be coming right again. To briefly summarize all that happened since the end of last year:

• My mother died.
• I thought it would be a good idea to look after my ex and my son’s half sister.
• I ended up struggling looking after both children by myself, sometimes for weeks at a time while my ex was away.
• I got into an enormous amount of debt when I foolishly allowed her to talk me into taking out a large loan, wasting much of the money on her.
• My car broke down and I spent some time without it.
• In the time without my car, I got lifts from a family friend, but this angered another extended family member who doesn’t want me to have anything to do with his ex. (It’s complicated but I do not want to get caught in the middle of their disputes.)
• Someone from my son’s school sent Child Welfare an email claiming I’m back on drugs, subjecting me to a humiliating drug test even though I’m six years clean. (It’s entirely possible that this wasn’t really sent from the school itself, but on behalf of the person who was helping me with lifts when I was without a car.)
• My phone, which cost me R4000 and was the best phone I ever had, fell in the toilet and could not be repaired.
• My ex accused me of something that is untrue. (Edit: I forgot someone in her family asked me not to say what that thing was.) But when she accused me, she seemed to be high.
• She then ran off, with an absurd accusation about me, leaving me when the loan money had run out, while I have three years of excessively expensive loan repayments.
• She returned at the end of a month, conveniently when I was paid, and I was stupid enough to let her back into the apartment.
• Then she ran off again while I was at work. She stole a considerable amount of money, my mother’s wedding ring, my broken phone, washing powder, and the hairdryer (which was a gift from me to my mother). And I can’t prove it was her, but also my car. (I only realized the spare key was missing days later.)

Putting it like that, maybe it doesn’t seem so bad? But it omits the emotional trauma, especially my attachment to Josh’s sister, and the fact that a certain person has betrayed me so many times now, I’ve lost count. I ended up deeply depressed – this all felt like too much – and am now taking anti-depressants.

But now, it doesn’t seem quite so bad. I have a new (second-hand) car. Last Friday I received the insurance payout for the stolen car, enabling me to pay back the person who so kindly paid for the new car so long. And also, I am incredibly fortunate to have had someone who could do that for me. Not everybody is so privileged. (I’d say who it was but this person doesn’t want me to.)

So I used the excess of the insurance money to buy a new phone, similar to the one that was damaged beyond repair and then stolen. I was even able to send a little something to Josh’s sister in Cape Town – not a lot but something to help because most of her clothes are still here and her grandmother needs all the help she can get. Josh has my old phone, which he used to watch Fortnite Tik Tok videos while I drove him to school this morning. I’m getting old and don’t really get the point of those videos, but he seems to love them. He’s also doing well in his exams so far, so I allowed him to play Fortnite in his study breaks over the weekend, and he won a few games, so he is as happy as can be at the moment. Life is looking good again. It’s not great, but it’s OK. I’m seeing some light at the end of the tunnel.

I must admit my confusion

I must admit, this year has been weird. But it’s not just that. I feel betrayed, but also confused.

I’m sitting here alone because my son is at this extended family thing, waiting for this video I downloaded (the latest episode of Titans season 2) to convert to x264 so I can play it on my BluRay player… pondering how things worked out the way they did.

She stole my car. Before that she stole lots of cash and stole my phone, after I treated her with nothing but kindness, caring for her and her daughter for seven months while asking for nothing in return. But how did she get like this? I don’t understand.

There was a time years ago when we were very much in love. I remember coming up here to Johannesburg for something (irrelevant to this post) about a year before Josh was born. She wasn’t supposed to… but followed me here a week later, because she couldn’t stand to be away from me. It was in the midst of our years of addiction but for that month we were clean… and we had a great time. She hung onto me almost every moment, both physically, and onto every word. We were inseparable and very much in love and I was convinced she was the love of my life.

Make no mistake; I have changed since then too. I have grown, older and smarter, grown into a better person, now with six years plus sobriety, but at heart I am the same person. When I see her face; when I hear her voice, to me she is still that girl who loved me. And for that reason, despite knowing that she changed years ago, somehow I always forget, somehow I have always been weak around her, always refusing to see what a monstrous narcissist and user she is. That’s why I gave her so many chances. That why I always gave her the benefit of doubt.

But still, there’s a part of me that can not comprehend how she changed so much. How could someone once so devoted to me become so hateful, spiteful, and selfish? How could she lie to the face of even our son? How could she not even care that he has grown to hate her?

She has accused me of so many things, making as if I was somehow the one who was wrong… she even accused me of running her down to Josh. If only she knew how many times I stood up for her over the years, how many times I defended her to Josh. And for what? He always saw through her even when I didn’t.

I really don’t want to write about her any more, so I’ll try to make this the last time. In the last two weeks, Josh has had nightmares. He dreamed that she came back and stole money from me again. It didn’t have to end this way. I tried. Oh Megan, what have you done and what have you become?

If you don’t want people to know you did bad things, don’t do bad things

… especially not to me.

Life is strange. I’m sitting here pondering it at home today, having taken two days leave because tomorrow is my birthday. Actually I applied for the leave when my depression was leaving me feeling rather hopeless and desperate for a break, but after weeks of anti-depressants, I’m feeling much better now. But it is good to have a break.

I received a perplexing voice message the other day, from someone who accused me of cyber-bullying… this because I wrote on Megan’s Facebook wall about what she did, having come back here the weekend I was paid… only to rob me of all my cash for the month, my mother’s wedding ring, and the spare car key. I didn’t even know about the spare car key, but would find out last week when my car vanished from my home.

Let’s make this as clear as I can: I can’t prove that she stole my car. But whoever stole it managed to get into the complex, which requires having a gate remote, and then stole the car without breaking anything. And this is a car that always had the battery disconnected. So, whoever stole it then ignored the other cars in the complex and stole the one that wouldn’t even have run without the thief opening up the hood and reconnecting the battery. Then they drove it out of the complex without being seen. What are the chances that it was anybody other than her, who has a gate remote, and who had the opportunity to steal the spare car key weeks in advance?

I’m not looking for revenge as it was implied, and there is no malice here. I could easily tag a post with her full name and ID number, ensuring that anyone searching the internet for her name find out about her past, but I haven’t done that, and I’m not going to. Nobody who reads these posts knows exactly who I am writing about, except for her family members of course. And this isn’t about the money I gave her or spent on her. I know I wasn’t the only one to do so. It is about the betrayal, the lies, and what she stole from me. It’s about how disgusting that is, to leave me and her own son without means of transport or money for the month, not to mention the harm she has done to her daughter.

The bottom line is this: You have no right to be angry that somebody tells about the bad things you did. If you didn’t do bad things, there would be nothing to tell.

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Edit: I keep writing variations of this post and then either not publishing them at all, or deleting them. I just want to get on with my life and not hear from Megan again.

Things are looking up

I’ve been taking the antidepressant for a few weeks now, and am at last feeling more like my normal self. And quite quickly, everything is turning around.

Someone close to me has been a great help… from driving me to the police station to report my car being stolen last Sunday, to driving Josh and I to school/work and back every day, to helping me find a second-hand car…

The insurance should pay out soon, only dependent on my deregistering the old car, and then I can go on with my life, back to normal more or less.

At the same time, my employers have noticed that I’m struggling with my vision, and have spent money on everything other than myself, especially glasses for myself. So they’re sending me for an eye test today, and will get me new glasses. I’ll have to pay them back of course, but not in one go, and this is also a pleasant surprise.

So… it’s amazing how quickly things can improve.

Edit: Last week an old school friend called me, and now I have somebody to talk to, which really helps… and an old friend in the UK, after seeing my posts about my woes, has decided to send me R10 000 to help, out of the blue. This is incredible.

Another edit: My brother just showed up at my work with the vehicle deregistration form, and the form for the new car that I haven’t even paid for yet. We’ve had our differences and issues in the past, but he really is going out of his way to help me here. I am beyond grateful.

And life goes on

It’s the second day treating my depression after this recent incident, the second day taking an antidepressant; can’t say I’m feeling that much better. But at least I am managing. Yesterday was a nightmare… after going to the doctor, I changed the lock on the front door – it seems the police can’t serve Megan with a protection order barring her from entering my home (she has keys) because I don’t know her address. But I could not go for as long as 30 seconds without losing something, be it a screw, the screwdriver, the duct tape I used to try holding the outer door latch in place while I fitted the inner one, or whatever… I was not thinking clearly at all. At least that is better now.

What gets me is that they left without even a goodbye. Well, that’s one of many things that gets me. Megan left chaos in her wake. I can’t even find one matching pair of my own socks, yet there are clothes of Aishah folded on my bedroom table, more of her clothes on the bed, and more on the clothes stand in the lounge. The washing basket that’s supposed to contain dry cleaned washing has wet washing on the bottom, left there for days. There’s breakfast cereal missing, and even two minute noodles. I also can’t understand how the police can’t make a case against her for my missing cash, when she was the only other adult here.

It’s clear she only came back for the weekend because she knew I was getting paid. She went shopping with me, leaving me puzzled that she only wanted to buy toiletries, and food for the day… now I understand why. All her toiletries are of course gone, but she also put a T-shirt ready for me, hanging on the back of my chair. Bizarre behaviour is the norm for her though.

Someone asked me, “Why did you leave cash lying around?” As if I should not be able to leave cash in my wallet in my own home! Way to blame the victim, but if I can’t leave my wallet with cash on my own table inside the privacy of my own home, then the person who was in the home with me can not be trusted.

Someone says Megan is strong. No, going from one relationship to the next, always claiming to have been a victim of abuse at the previous one… that’s not strength. Besides burning this bridge, I wrote this to vent, and besides that, I wrote it to make this crystal clear… whoever she is with now is no doubt hearing the same bullshit about how she was abused before, and when it doesn’t work out (and it won’t), that person becomes the next abuser in her narrative. Mark my words, she will want to come back here, but she can’t.

Her mother also seems to believe her denial of being on drugs… Let’s make one thing clear… This was not the first time she stole from me. When she stole before, she was using… with me. That was back when I was still using meth too. The only time I have known her to steal is when she’s on drugs. And taking some money out of a wallet while leaving the rest so that it isn’t obvious unless you count the money… that’s something she does. So sure, I did not witness her stealing anything, but put two and two together, for fuck’s sake.

Edit: I have no evidence that she used drugs, but she was drinking. I’m even finding empty bottles behind the washing machine.

A couple of months ago, in one of those rare moments when Megan actually spoke to me, she said something along the lines of, “I don’t lie, right?” When I replied that she lies all the time, she responded, “No, I always tell the truth when it’s from the heart.” What does that even mean? I always tell the truth when I’m not telling lies?…Newsflash: If you lie so often that you have to define an arbitrary, moveable exclusion for when you tell the truth, then you are a liar.

Excuse the rant… Again. It’s hard to get over this while there is still stuff left from her being here spread all over the house.

On the other hand, I have now experienced first hand the frustration and hurt that one experiences when trying to help an addict. My advice to anyone who wants to help an addict, someone they care about… Don’t. Just cut them off. Don’t give them money. Don’t get attached to child who is not yours, and mostly, never give such a person the benefit of doubt. If you have a bad feeling about them, listen to that feeling. If they are acting strangely, do not think that you need evidence like a drug test to prove them to be clean. When someone is clean, there will be evidence of their sobriety, signs that you can pick up in their words and deeds. But when someone acts strangely and has strange stories to explain their behaviour, assume everything is a lie because it probably is.

Edit… Also this:

A year of despair

I’m shaking all over and feel physically ill. My stomach is upset and my whole body is tense, and I’m worried about my blood pressure, because, thanks to the overwhelming debt due to Megan, I haven’t had enough money to get more hypertension tablets, so I’ve rationed them, taking one one day, and then going two days without to allow me to wait until the end of the month to get more. And today I called in sick to work so that I can go to the doctor and get myself checked out. Hopefully it’s not too bad.

This time I am not going to write this and delete it, and this time I am going to write it all. It’s time to burn this bridge.

After my mother died on December 7th last year, I was struggling with depression. When I heard that Megan was in trouble, I naively thought that having her here might help. She could help with Josh’s homework and maybe finally make some kind of bond with her son. Aishah could be in a stable and secure environment, and go to Josh’s school. We could be a family. I was wrong. And I should have known.

I paid for Megan to come here from Cape Town. Four times, I paid, and she didn’t get on the bus. Eventually her mother informed me that Megan was locked up in a police cell for five days (which didn’t explain why she missed the other three busses and I should have realized something was wrong). There was a case against her, for stealing someone’s phone. Under the impression from her mother that the case had been dropped, and having been promised that this time would be different, I allowed her to come here, with Aishah who was then five years old.

They arrived in late March, so she was in time for Josh’s birthday on April 2nd. And things were good at the beginning. Too good. In the first week, she persuaded me to take out a loan, for R120 000, with a company called Direct Access. The repayments are steep, R5 500 a month, but I thought that if I used it to consolidate my debt, that would be OK. But that didn’t happen.

Late in the first month, I was told that she had a court date, in Cape Town. (1400km away. We live in Johannesburg.) Again, I was assured that this was a formality, that the case would soon be dropped. “What if it gets postponed?”, I asked. “No, that will never happen. Van Graan (the lawyer) says it will be dropped”. Of course it wasn’t.

I ended up paying for her flights, four times up and down to cape Town, each time leaving me with both children to take care of alone. The last time, she stayed for a month, and in that month, I paid for two flights back, where she failed to get on the plane. Each time… a story. A ridiculous lie about why she didn’t catch the plane.

When she finally returned, she showed up with Jenna, from her her previous relationship. Jenna who was on the run from the police, apparently because she stole a car. Jenna who used to abuse her and pimp her out. Jenna who she had run away from. Needless to say, I didn’t let her bring that person here.

Eventually that case was settled, but she has to complete a NIKRO program to avoid getting a criminal record.

In those four weeks, and the various other times when she left Aishah alone with me for days at a time, we ate takeout. Yes, that’s my fault. We blew that money on food, flights, dentist bills of over R10000 for Megan and her new dentures, Aishah’s bicycle for her birthday in May, watching movies, going to Gold Reef City with her cousin who came to visit for two weeks, my new phone, and various other things. That money is long gone, but the debt isn’t. With my bond, the loan repayments, and my other expenses including old debt that I’m still paying off, I am struggling to pay my bills. Actually I can’t pay all my bills.

Aishah was in school. We found a good creche nearby, and Megan’s aunt paid for it. Again, I asked her, “What if your aunt stops paying?” and she assured me that would not happen. of course that was not true as well. her aunt stopped paying at the end of July, and I didn’t know straight away. After two months of unpaid fees, the told us she can’t come back to that school. It broke my heart because Aishah was doing so well there. I dropped her off every morning, and collected both children from the two schools in the afternoon. And Aishah would pretend that, like Josh, she also had homework. She ask me to help her with it, with her Abacas maths.

In around June, Megan asked me to buy drugs. (Meth, our preferred drug from the past.) When I refused and reminded her that I was almost six years clean, her response was “Who gives a fuck?” (I do.) So she found a friend in the area, and started going out some nights. Other times, she had a friend further away, and would stay out for four to five days at a time, again, leaving me with both children. I have never known where she goes or what she does.

In these six months, I’ve build quite a bond with Aishah. We’re close, not as close as her brother and I, but close all the same. And even when Megan was here, she never spoke to us or interacted with us. Also has the headphones on, always singling along to the same songs in that awful flat voice of hers, leaving me to attend to both children. Aishah loves to play hide and seek, or Monopoly, which she’s got quite good at for a six year old, although she prefers using the board and the paper money to the Xbox version of the game.

The last time she stayed away was at the end of August, and she returned on September the 2nd, a Monday. I remember that Sunday before clearly… Josh was at a friend and I’d taken Aishah to the shop with me. She chose a toy, and I let her take it but insisted I can’t buy her anything else. The she picked up this powdered milk…. called Nespray Fortigrow and cried to get that too. Eventually I relented, and she put the toy back,asking me if she can get it for her birthday next year. I agreed, but reminded her it’s a long time until then.

After that last time, I wrote on Facebook about Megan being away for a few days, she returned on a Monday. That night I went to an NA meeting and announced I was six years clean. When I returned, I heard Aishah’s excited voice as I closed the car door, shouting “Jerome’s home! Jerome’s home!” We then called Megan’s uncle who had tried to call me when I was at the meeting as he wanted to speak to Aishah. Then Megan went out with her local friends.

Aishah has nightmares, and she had a cramp that night. She insisted on sleeping next to me, which is fine with me. In my room, we have two beds, my queen size bed and Josh’s old bed. Normally myself, Megan and Aishah all sleep in the same room, and Josh has his own room. After Aishah went to sleep, I got up and was busy on my computer. I recall being on there until after midnight and Megan had still not come home. I heard her return and make a lot of noise at around 4AM.

The next day, although Aishah wanted to go to school, Megan complained that she wasn’t feeling well and Aishah could “take care of me”. Josh was also not feeling well so he stayed home, but I went to work leaving all three of them there.

When I returned, I complained as I walked in the door that I was low on petrol. “You’ll lose everything because you touched my child!” Megan accused. Aishah was sitting in the lounge, looking afraid, huddled next to Josh on the couch. I didn’t know what she was talking about so I pressed further. “Aishah told me everything!” she shouted, as she waved the knife around that she’d been using to cut vegetables. That also doesn’t mean anything to me. Eventually it came out that she claimed Aishah had told her something (I still don’t know exactly what) and that I had exposed myself to her on the bed, and told her that if she told Megan, I wouldn’t give her a birthday present the next year. No such thing ever happened, and the only conversation I had with Aishah about her birthday was the one I wrote about earlier, where she had to choose between a toy and powdered milk, and asked that I give her the present next year. Wen Megan asked Aishah to repeat what she’d said that morning, it became clear that the child had no idea what Megan was talking about.

But that’s not all… Megan was moving around nonstop. Twitching, scratching, twitching some more, then turning her head from side to side. And mumbling to herself, “Mmmm, mmm-uhmmm”, then singing. I heard her later that night, as she did fuck-knows-what in the kitchen around midnight… In between the mumbling, and singing, she exclaimed “Aishah!” as if the child was there in the room, but Aishah was fast asleep in bed.

The next morning when I drove Josh to school, he asked me if it was his imagination or if Megan was making strange noises throughout the night. I answered him honestly… Megan was probably high. I asked about the things that Aishah had supposedly told her the day before and he remarked that he was in the same room as Aishah all day and no such conversation had taken place. Aishah confirmed this to me as well.

This is what I honestly believe: Megan is using. I don’t know when she started and I have not found any evidence of drugs here, but she must be. I think that was the only day she used here in my flat, but that night when I got home and she was acting strangely and accusing me of molesting Aishah, I am convinced she was high. And hallucinating. I am certain she hallucinated the whole conversation and she actually believes it – she doesn’t know the difference between what’s real and what she has hallucinated. I believe Aishah is in danger and I don’t know where she has taken the child.

I need to get to my doctor’s appointment and then I need to get some rest because I feel ill. So I’ll have to stop writing this now.

But to end off… Megan was away with Aishah for the whole of September after that week.  She only returned last Friday. Then she stayed for the weekend, and left with Aishah yesterday while I was at work. Josh was here; it was his last day of school holidays. She told him she was just going to give away some clothes that were too small, then she left and didn’t come back; taking most of her clothes but leaving all of Aishah’s toys.

This breaks my heart. Every day Aishah told me what she wanted for Christmas. I love her as much as Josh, even though she isn’t my daughter. To be accused of molesting her… It’s unthinkable. To think that Megan actually believes this? It kills me inside. I am broken, deeply hurt and in despair.

And to top it all off, I didn’t notice until I got home yesterday that money was missing from my wallet (and laptop bag where I hid it from Megan). A little over R3000 altogether… There was R2000 in my wallet and there’s R700 left. And there was R3000 hidden in my laptop bag; with R1000 remaining. The rest is gone. And she did this knowing I drew the money out before my debit orders could go off, knowing how much I am struggling. And this is after I bought her a phone on Saturday – honestly that is all she cared about. I went to the police, and they won’t let me make a case because I didn’t witness her stealing the money. That’s crazy – there was no one else here.

So that’s it… I haven’t written everything because there’s too much. But it’s enough. Everything I have written is 100% true, and I’m going to share it to my Facebook and hers. I know her password, so I’ve changed it, locking her out of her Google account and both Facebook accounts, and I wrote a status on both of them last night asking that if anyone knows where she is, they contact her mother. (You can reach Heather on +27 84 795 1607.) Maybe she can have more luck at the police and Child Welfare… whatever it takes.
[Edit: She has the main Facebook account back. And she deleted my status there. I can’t share this to her wall.]

I’m terribly worried about Aishah. We only applied for one school for next year, Josh’s school, and I don’t know if she was accepted because Megan would have received the message. I don’t think she has any plan, any thoughts about getting Aishah into school even though she legally must do so next year. I don’t think she is thinking at all. Also, her mother was supposed to come here and help, so I heard, but we have been waiting for three months now, and now maybe it’s too late. We don’t know where Megan and Aishah are, or how much danger Aishah is in.