Healing

“Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.” (Hippocrates)

I chose the path of healing way back in 2005.
It changed my life in more ways than I could ever have imagined.

I resigned from my job at Storm Models in Cape Town and took a huge leap of faith. For eight years, I spent my days helping others as a Massage and Wellness therapist — easing their aches and pains, listening as they unburdened their hearts, and always ready with my signature mama bear hug. I can still remember the rush of feel-good hormones every time someone left my space lighter, happier, freer than when they walked in.

• There’s a story I love:
  When someone visits a Native American Medicine Man, they are asked four simple, powerful questions:
  When was the last time you sang?
  When was the last time you danced?
  When was the last time you told your story?
  When was the last time you rested in silence?

Isn’t that beautiful?

As mothers and grans, we delight in our children’s laughter and joy. They don’t walk — they hop, skip and jump. They giggle a hundred times a day, play hide-and-seek, and run out of hours before they run out of fun.

And then, over time, something shifts.
As we grow older, even the memories of those carefree days begin to fade.

These past few weeks, I’ve felt like I was sitting in front of the Medicine Men myself.
And if I had to answer their questions honestly?

Well, silence, I have.
Some days I don’t hear my own voice at all.
Pain keeps me from dancing.
There’s no one to tell my story to — so I write instead, whispering into the world with my words.

And yet, deep down, I am still a playful soul. I love to tease, to be silly, to laugh — and right now, I’m getting that chance again. Austin told me yesterday, "Ouma, you are funny!"

It was medicine for my soul.
We play. We sing songs. And they sing with me.

This week, I finally saw the chiropractor — after two postponements due to my skin cancer procedure. We looked at the x-rays, and I brought along a photo of me at four years old. I asked about my right shoulder, which has always drooped lower than the other. It shows in every picture.

He smiled — as if the answer was right there in front of him.

The first thing he asked, looking at my ribcage x-ray, was unexpected:
"Do you have any heart problems?"
I said no, only that it’s been broken a few times.
We chuckled.

It seems my heart is enlarged — slightly bigger than normal.
“Well,” I said, “mine’s never been normal. I’ve always needed space for all the special souls I carry inside it.”

He showed me the image of my spine — my pelvis tilts, and my spine curves like an S for scoliosis, instead of a straight line. It was a shock. But it explained the pain.
The years of agony.
The numb thighs.
The need to sit down suddenly just to feel my legs again.

Now, we have a plan. And I’m all in.
I see this not as a setback — but as an opportunity.

Back in 2019, a psychic told me the day would come when I’d walk upright and pain-free. I believed her. I started counting the days. Then I stopped. Seven years is a long time to keep hope alive.

But now — for the first time in years — I do believe again.
I feel it.
It’s possible.

"The body cannot heal without play;
the mind cannot heal without laughter;
the spirit cannot heal without joy."

Pain and trauma — physical, emotional, mental — will eventually manifest in the body. I take my hat off to my body! I will honour it, love it and respect it enough to be good for it.

So, for my 66th year on this wild, beautiful earth,
I am choosing HEALING as my word.

``Healing may not be so much about getting better as about letting go of everything that isn't you - all of the expectations, all of the beliefs - and becoming who you are.”

I am ready.

This is my opportunity — to live the life I’ve long imagined.
To sing again.
To dance again.
To tell my story.
And, yes, to rest in silence - but not silence alone.