• 

I’d been scrolling through countless beautiful, forlorn, hopeful little faces on many shelter pages and websites in search of you. You happened to be two and a half hours away with a face that said, “I’m worth the trip and more.” It was Monday the 14^th of September when I begged my parents to let me rescue you. After heavy discussion, we decided to bring you home.

Day 1: Sunday, 20 September 2020

Finally, after what felt like the longest week of my life, we made the long trip, dog treats galore. We all fell in love with you the second they brought you out of your kennel to us, eyes down and heart racing. How could anyone abandon a gentle little soul like yours – alone on a property with nothing to eat or drink?! We formed a bond instantaneously; I found it just as difficult to put you down as you did to try walk away from me for any reason at all. Mostly, you were calm and sleepy for the duration of the ride home. Introducing you to a tiled floor proved an unexpected obstacle, but we’ll get there, I know we will. The other dogs were curious but knew not to overwhelm you, and you were overwhelmed. Why are these people being so nice to me? It can’t be real. So you hid. Under my legs, under chairs, in corners. Getting you to wee on the grass felt like a milestone to celebrate. I’m already so proud of you and you don’t even know it. I’m already so in love with you, and I’m so excited for the day that you understand what that means.

• 

Day 2: Monday, 21 September 2020

I was up early this morning with you, sad that you didn’t seem as energetic as you were yesterday. You started vomiting throughout the day and it was painful to watch you in pain. Why is this happening? You didn’t want to eat and every time you drank water it came straight out. We phoned the vet to see if we should bring you in but had medicine for upset tummies that the vet said should work. If not, we should bring you in the next morning. We tried to play with you, get you to walk around outside – every step a celebration – but something was amiss. And yet you still had the kindest little ways of saying thank you; like when you stretch out on your bed thankful that you finally have one of your own. Or when you look up from it every now and then to make sure I’m still there, head calmly back down when you realise I am. Please feel better tomorrow my Rosie – you deserve the health and happiness you haven’t been given before.

Day 3: Tuesday, 22 September 2020

It was another rough night for us. I rubbed your head and comforted you while you vomited through the night but watching you in pain and discomfort was unbearable. I made an appointment at the vet first thing. She said you’re in good health but have a bit of gastro, gave you some meds and sent us all off with peace in our hearts and more meds for the following morning. It was a long tough day waiting for the meds to take. You already have so much to adjust to – you aren’t used to being inside a house, let alone being part of a home. Tiled floors are a mystery to you, you still have a long way to go with your new siblings and you don’t even know what licking out of affection is. You need to unlearn your fear and start trusting, all before you can even start relaxing and playing and running around. And how can you do that when you aren’t even feeling physically well, nevermind the emotional trauma. I hope I can teach you love. I’m desperate for you to know it.

Day 4: Wednesday, 23 September 2020

Usually, the number 23 appears in my life to reassure me, but this had to have been one of the worst days of my life. This morning, you had blood in your stool. The panic and fear when I saw it… indescribable. We phoned the 24hour emergency clinic closest to us but apparently, they also only take patients at certain times. It was 6:30 in the morning and we couldn’t wait until 12:30. Not a fuck. We took you to the vet at 7:30 as soon as they opened. They administered your drip and started doing more tests. She surmised Haemorrhagic Gastroenteritis. We had to leave you there in hope that you’d receive the best possible care we could provide you with.

• 

When we visited later, tears galore, the waterworks worsened – you’d been tested positive for Parvo Virus. Unreal because you’re already 2 and no longer a puppy. Your history was against you, but my girl, you have to know a better life than this. You have to fight for it so we can keep fighting for you. It baffles me how distraught I am after only a few days of knowing you, that I love you this deeply already. It feels a little crazy and a lot scary. How will I have a child one day? The fear is immeasurable. You stood up when we visited, ears perked when you heard our voices – maybe these people aren’t going to leave me this time – if a dog has thoughts I’m sure that’s what was on your mind. Your cage was bloody and heart-breaking. You rested your head on my hand the whole visit through. My little love – the sweetest soul. Please be ok. Please. Please. Please.

Day 5: Thursday, 24 September 2020

You’re still there, still sick, still sleepy, still so grateful to see us. And now the fear is moving direction – what if my hope is misplaced? Is it ok to be positive and try picture you coming out of this? Is it ok that the crying has stopped and my heartbeat has slowed a little? Please be ok. Please. Please. Please.

• 

• 

Day 6: Friday, 25 September 2020

Yesterday was your last day on this earth. It was the last time I got to try and teach you love. It was the last time you looked up at me with the most beautiful, kind little brown eyes, the last time you rested your head in my hand. I take comfort knowing that I tried to give you a second chance at life, that I did everything I could, and yet there’s this indescribable tragedy of what if – the life we never got to share and the memories I never got to give you. I am in pain but that doesn’t matter to me – your future is what mattered to me. I already miss you. I miss everything we could have shared. I miss the things imagined, the toys not yet bought, the car seat I was going to buy you after pay day, the adventures that it would have led to.

I’m so sorry I could only show you a glimpse of what you deserved. But I hope in a way you knew – I hope that when you were sleeping and woke up just to look at me and check if I was still there, and then lay your head back down again, that was your way of saying “good, she’s still here, she cares.” I did my Rosie. I do. I will always love you, far more than I ever thought was possible in less than a week. The best-worst experience of my life. You were the most perfect angel, my dream dog, my little love, my biggest heartbreak, my lesson in things you can’t control and that are too painful to accept. But I tried. I would have tried anything for you. And I’d do it all over again just to have met and hoped for you. Sleep sweetly my Rosie Posey. I wouldn’t trade 5 days with you for 15 years with any other dog. You were perfect. I hope you came to know that.

Sunday, 27 September 2020

This time last week I was filled to the brim with happiness and hope. There’s a hole in my heart where you should be. You were my dream dog, and now I’m living in a nightmare. It’s one thing to lose a pet at the end of their life, it’s entirely different to lose them before it had even begun. All I wanted was to save you from your past; give you a better future. I now realise there’s nothing more tragic than something you can’t control, something you can’t change, something you can’t better. I just hope you closed your eyes knowing a bit more love than you did this time last week. My Rosie-Posey, my little love – you brought me so much of it. Thank you.

It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

• 

I’ve spent a vast majority of this year in contemplation. Between incredible highs and the rock bottom-iest of lows, I’ve really had to grapple with what it means to be happy from within. After all, we can only control ourselves and our choices – beyond that, we are powerless. So, when everything around us seems to be falling apart, what gives us the inner strength to cope?

During the worst part of my life, I found that pure intentions were what kept me going, even if just barely. When we are faced with tremendous adversity, we lose spirit. Humility is a wonderful thing when you walk beside it, but when it grows so large that it casts a shadow overhead, it is crippling.

When I was at my lowest and loneliest, it was easy to blame myself, to undermine and undervalue my place and purpose in this world. If I had lost the thing that meant most to me, what made me unworthy of it?

I went to war with myself. I didn’t nourish my body, mind or soul – worse than that, I depleted it. I was empty, and it seemed an impossible hole to fill. When looking within was too painful, I looked around. It was at that point that I was flooded by gratitude. And being grateful doesn’t necessarily bring happiness – that is external – but it does bring a deep sense of joy and peace – and that is the umbrella during the storm.

I was stuck for so long in the more, that I forgot just how much – wanting to do more, be more, achieve more, I lost sight of just how much I already had to be thankful for, of how much I had to offer. Maybe I felt empty because of shallow desire. Maybe what I wanted from the world wasn’t as important as what I could do for it.

Now more than ever, in a society that gratifies fame above impact, we must regularly remind ourselves to do more with heart, and less with ego. To lead with the heart is to live your truth, but to lead with ego and pride is to live in the shadow of false expectation.

People have become far too concerned with being impressive. Looking good for others doesn’t make us feel good. Whatever you do, do it to fulfil your soul, no matter who is watching, or clapping, or spitting in your face; it is better to connect on a deeper level with one individual than thousands at the surface. When your intentions are aligned to your purpose, you provide meaningful contribution – not the perception thereof.

This is what I know to my core – a pure heart is the greatest weapon during the wars we are thrown into.  

Who are you when no one is watching?

That is who you must face in the mirror.

Don’t disappoint yourself.

– Lessons I am learning

• 

I wish I could go back in time for a moment,

Visit myself as a little girl,

Tell her to brace herself,

Tell her it won’t be easy.

I wish I could tell her that she won’t always handle it well,

That sometimes it will be overwhelming,

Underwhelming,

Too much,

Not enough.

I wish I could have prepared her,

Because the fairytales never did.

Tell her she will fall

And she will hurt,

And it will bruise,

And she may even have scars.

I wish I could tell her

The world won’t always feel big,

And that sometimes she’ll feel like there isn’t any room for her –

In it or in others.

I wish I could tell her

That despite how much she loves,

She won’t always be loved,

But it’s ok because she’ll be love.

Tell her that her flaws don’t make her undeserving,

Tell her she’s worthy no matter what.

Tell her that she’s enough,

Not too much,

Or too little,

That she’s just right.

But more than anything,

I wish I could hug her and say

Be kind to yourself,

You’re going to need it.

Stop wasting time. Stop waiting for the weekend. Stop waiting for holiday. Stop living vicariously through social media and the lives of others. Grab time, clutch onto it, hold it to your chest like a sacred artifact or a love letter. Make the most of it. Love exactly where you are, here and now, being; existing; breathing life into your lungs. Be awake. Open your eyes to the wonders around you, even if those wonders are confined to an office, a messy house that you don’t have time to clean, an annoyingly crowded grocery store. Look around you and you will feel more connected to what’s inside of you. Love your day, your week, your life.

Stop complaining because of your bills and society and the cruel world we live in. These are outside of us; we have only ourselves and our choices; that is the ripple effect we must leave behind. Stop going places and wishing you weren’t there. Stop saying yes to things that make you miserable. Learn to take a break when you aren’t at peace. Learn to go places and see people who do bring you peace. Stop living a half-life and wonder why you feel empty. Explore. Adventure. Embrace the moment. Stop dancing sheepishly to good music. Stop having average fun. Stop being bored. Stop playing it safe, for fear of ridicule and judgement. Just stop and look around. There’s much to be done.

For Time is temporal and turning, the timeline irrevocably altering, its tendons thirsty for memory, its deadline forever lurking. Time, it laughs at humanity at these torpid beings who only touch Time’s surface and travail Time’s traumas. Yet Time is not the travesty, for time-wasted is the true tragedy – an untenable and untimely erosion of ticks and tocks.

Do not erode your spirit, your zest for life, your need to be great and to do great things. Stop limiting yourself to the comfort of what you know and search the depths of what you don’t. It is poisonous to wish time away, and then realise how much you want it back when it’s too late. Stop showing up late for life. Live now, while you can. Because time gives before it takes. And that’s a blessing. Have gratitude. Too many people take for granted the immeasurable possibility of joy that lies in the very period you overlooked, wasted, wished for the weekend.

Time isn’t always easy, and it doesn’t always feel like a friend. You will mourn. You will hurt. But when there’s opportunity for life to be full, take it. Stop living and doing and loving half. Live and do and love in full, and you will feel whole where the holes once were.

You are here, it’s a great place to be.

Maybe we’re out of place because our focus is misplaced.

When was the last time you rewarded yourself for being kind or doing a good deed? I bet that most of us don’t. I bet that most of us place our value in our achievements and successes and NOT in the value we hold in the lives of others. I bet that we don’t really focus on being there for others as much as we focus on why others should be there for us.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t dream or work hard for our dreams – I’m saying that we can afford to invest in the dreams of others, working hard to love, and to give, and to encourage. Because our dreams and aspirations and plans are never more important than the dreams and aspirations and plans of those we care for.

People are so truly essential in our lives. They can be harmful and hurtful (much of the time), but they can also be a rather wonderful part of who we are and who we will become (most of the time). They are necessary reminders – of the past, present and future; of the lessons they helped us learn and the stories they helped us create. And if we aren’t serving them then why would we be here? Selfish and self-indulgent, hoping to be admired and praised for what we do instead of who we are.

We must always remember what matters – happiness before success, love before grief, giving before receiving –because all we really are, are the memories we leave with people.

I used to listen to the drone of ignorance. I heard, very loudly, the sound of disbelief when I mouthed my dreams – the volume, barely a whisper, my voice, practically unheard. The response, deafening.

• 

People will always discourage the things you believe in most, because giving in to logic and safety is what they know. It’s comfortable. It is easier to stop trying for the things you want and have a small part of you believe you could have made it, than to pursue them and fail. And we are fearful beings. Beings with insurance and alarm systems and funeral cover and ice-cream in the freezer on standby for the next heartbreak.

We talk through life, we do not sing.

But I am up to me. I’ll drown out the voices in my head with the ones screaming in my heart – because I’m already failing if I’m a megaphone for the masses.

We are what we decide to make of ourselves – we are what we decide to overcome, or not overcome, prove or disprove or improve, to see, or to overlook. We are what we believe is great within ourselves, or weak. Who we are, as people, as individuals, are the thoughts we have selected from the mouths of others, and the ones we’ve heard from within. So, what voices are you listening to? And what song will you sing?

If I could sum up the mounds of emotional burden that weigh me down constantly, I’d say that the overarching feeling is ‘toska’; a sense of being unfathomably lost in the greater scheme of things. And although I don’t believe a person is ever truly ‘lost’ or can ever truly be ‘found’, I do think that a strong sense of purpose and a strong sense of self is necessary when navigating human emotion.

But what happens when you aren’t actively pursuing your perceived purpose and, therefore, lose your sense of self?

I often contemplate the necessity of my existence. And that’s a dangerous wandering. Do any of us really need to be here? Are we part of a greater plot? Are we tiny intricacies in the details of a larger picture that none of us can comprehend? Part of fate and destiny and timing exactly as it is meant to be – like someone out of ‘Serendipity’. Or are we just happenings, comings and goings of daily life that just are? That aren’t needed. That aren’t essential? And while I’ll never have concrete answers, I think we’re somewhat of a mixture between the two; we aren’t essential, but we can be an essential part of something essential; a thread in a tapestry, a cog in a machine, an act of kindness in a person’s miserable day. I suppose, if we choose to be.

So what is the point? Of being here and then gone? Fleeting. Just fractions in time, trying to discover something as incomprehensible as meaning. This is where we begin to break, as people – when we start questioning more than we see, and do, and live. And in that pensive state, a brokenness attaches itself to us; the human condition. And then, rediscovery of purpose and of self begins to heal us.

So why is it necessary – to swing from childhood dreams and fall into adult depression? These are still thoughts I don’t have answers to – but I do have a few guesses. Maybe we must break to detach from what the world wants us to be, so that we can attach to who we choose to be instead. Maybe we ‘lose’ ourselves to find the most true, broken, vulnerable, patched-up, humanely human version possible. If we choose to be. Maybe we are meant to feel small and insignificant because we are, or because it motivates us not to be. Or maybe we are just here to make the fall a little softer for those like us, buried by the burdens.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what my purpose is. I used to think it was to change the world. But after a few of life’s humblings, I’m happy to just be a good part of someone’s day.

If you aren’t sure of who to be, be a listener. If you aren’t sure of what to be, be a giver. If you aren’t sure of who you are, appreciate who others are. And this will bring you insurmountable joy.

My name is Anastasia Amy and I am a South African actor, dancer, poet and make-up artist.

Storytelling has always been at the centre of everything I do. I completed my degree in Dramatic Arts from the University of Pretoria in 2016, and since then I have worked as an au pair, social media, photography, and publishing intern. I studied make-up part-time whilst working two jobs and performing my own spoken word poetry for both Writer’s Bloc International and Spoken Sessions. I am currently signed with the incredible 4th Wall Management, under the exceptionally talented and kind, Andy Dellow.

As a creative, I spend many a night tossing and turning thinking about my next move, my next poem, my next creative project, and in all honesty, my thoughts are constant, and my mind can exhaust me. Being passionate about so much and always wanting to create change through these platforms can become a daunting task before any real work has even begun. And I suppose this rings true for any person involved in the arts – there’s never a full stop to what we do or want to do. There’s always something to work on and improve, but I find that the most magical part of it; there’s no end to what you will learn and no limit to what you can create.

I wrote a short poem that I think perfectly sums up this existential paradox:

It’s all a culmination; the hurt, the healing, the feeling of being less than you want to be, and the need to be more than you are – an adding up, of who you’ll eventually become.

So this is my becoming, my watering, my floraison – let’s see what will bloom.