I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning. Boy does that feels like a lifetime ago, someone else’s lifetime.
I’ll do my best to keep it as short and sweet as possible but I have been told I’m easily distracted so may venture off on different paths, bear with me and I’m sure it will all come together in the end.
So, where do I start? The very beginning… I was born in Zimbabwe back when it was still Rhodesia so that was a very long time ago!! My dad was originally from Scotland, born in Glasgow but his folks moved to Rhodesia when he was young and he was the oldest of their three children. It was in Rhodesia that he met my mom who was born in a place I can never remember the name of in Rhodesia. From the stories they told us growing up it didn’t sound like it was the whirlwind romance you read about in novels but I believe they loved each other. My sister and I were born in Rhodesia and then my brother was born in a place called Odendaalsrus in the Transvaal when we moved down south after the Rhodesian war. I’m the middle child and I’m sure some of you will understand my plight, others who don’t you are obviously not a middle child!
I was six years old when we moved to South Africa, to a small town called Howick. It had one pre-school, one junior school and yes you guessed it one high school. There were no traffic lights (we called them robots) in the town and I clearly remember the day the first set were installed, it was a big day for our small little town. There were only three sets when I moved away and I’m honestly not sure they ever got any more. Growing up in a small town had its advantages but unfortunately when you are doing the growing up you don’t see them and I couldn’t wait to grow up and leave the small town mind set behind. Funny thing was for years I used to look back and sometimes I still do and realise what a fantastic childhood we had in that small town and how I miss those days and wish my children could have the same experiences I did. Just a pity I didn’t see that then.
I was seventeen when I fell pregnant with my first son. I flew to the UK five months pregnant on my eighteenth birthday. Leaving behind the only life I had ever known; school, my friends and the father of my unborn child. My parents were in the UK and it made sense to join them in this foreign country where they were making a new life, but I hated it. I didn’t know anyone and I was pregnant so I didn’t go anywhere or do anything to be able to meet anyone. My folks worked so I was left at home alone most of the time so it was no surprise that after only seven months I flew back to South Africa with a three month old baby, my beautiful first born, with not a clue what I was going to do. I studied a secretarial course and put my son in childcare from three months old, something I have always regretted. His father and I did our best at being a family but it just didn’t work out and I found myself a single parent at the age of twenty with a two year old. I was back living with my parents and working a full time job. Believe me I am incredibly grateful for all the help my folks gave me during this time. I don’t think I ever told them just how much.
Then at the age of twenty one, with itchy feet, I got back on another plane heading for the UK yet again. My second day in the country I had registered with all the employment agencies I could and by day three I was working. I never looked back really and I always laugh and say to people “I never really had a plan passed England!” and nineteen years later I am still here. The first few years were hard, my son was my only priority and adjusting to the cold and way of life were difficult. All I kept thinking about was the life I could offer my son, the things I could give him here that I couldn’t back in South Africa. I wanted him to have more opportunities than I did growing up and as tough as it was sometimes, I made sure he had everything he needed. I have worked with and made some great friends over the years, sadly I have lost touch with more of them than I would have liked but that can’t be helped sometimes.
I got married for the first time at the age of twenty five, to my son’s father. I won’t go in to too much detail but after being apart for four years we met up while I was on holiday back in South Africa and I thought things had changed, that we were different people but once again things didn’t work out for us and after only nearly two years of marriage we were again on our separate paths and I was yet again a single parent. I’ve had other relationships in my life, before being married and after it ended but thats a whole other blog for another time. Nothing ever felt right, relationships were hard work and nothing ever lasted and it was something I had come to expect, no one ever stayed.
I then made a huge career change or perhaps I found my career path at the age of thirty four and am happy to say it is still something I enjoy doing. A year after that at thirty five I was lucky enough to meet my soul mate, and I know it’s going to sound cheesy but when they say you will know when you meet “The One”, its true. I knew the minute I met him that he was the one I had spent my life looking for. The funny thing is at the time I wasn’t really looking for a relationship and to be honest I nearly cancelled our coffee date but I still thank the powers that be that I didn’t and here I am today at the fabulous age of forty with three year old twins, coming up to my first wedding anniversary and living in a beautiful home that we own.
I got married at the age of thirty nine in 2017. I’m learning that marriage isn’t easy, marriage or any relationship with kids is even harder. I never thought I would have another child, let alone two at the age of thirty seven. I honestly thought those days were behind me so you can imagine how surprised we were when we found out we were having twins! Absolutely everything in our lives changed, double everything, bigger car and a bigger house! I’m not entirely sure I didn’t suffer some form of post natal depression in the beginning and even two years down the line but again I think that’s another story for another time. With twins each stage brings it’s own challenges but I wouldn’t change them for the world as I have two beautiful healthy boisterous boys who keep me on my toes and although some days I feel ancient, they are keeping me young.
Unfortunately 2017 was the worst year of my life, when it should have, well at least the one day I got married, been the best and I found myself in a very dark place. I will elaborate in future blogs as there is way too much to go in to now and I’ve been writing for ages, but I am happy to say I have come out the other side and am now finally “alive” again, more so maybe than I have ever been. I am on a personal development journey to learn, get stronger and be the best version of me and I am very excited to be part of a business venture that is part of that as well as the motivation to build a better future for my family. I am still working while I do this part time, but unfortunately with all the politics, scrutiny and bad press we face it is becoming increasingly difficult to enjoy doing the job I love.
Wow, if you have got this far thank you. I have always wanted to start a blog, if for nothing else just to have somewhere to write my story. I always kept a diary when I was growing up, not always a good thing when it got in the wrong hands but it was somewhere to put my thoughts in writing and it feels great to be doing that again. I would love it if you follow my blog and let me know along the way how I am doing on my journey. I can’t promise you it will all be interesting but I can promise you that all of it will be true.
See you again soon.
Angela ‘Alive’
Angela Harris 