These last couple of weeks have been busy. My parents-in-law flew over from England, and we've had the joy of seeing familiar faces and feeling the love of family again. We also started our homeschool journey… My girls are now registered with an online school where all the teaching and administrative staff have been very helpful and supportive.  New job opportunities have presented themselves within our family unit, which meant that HR teams have been in touch, pulling up contracts and patiently answering questions we have had. We've experienced the opening of a new social venue and spoke to some of the people who helped bring it together. We've also been blessed to be able to go out and have meals with the aforementioned family as well as friends who have become family, enjoying the various service methods and styles of the patient and willing staff. As much as I enjoyed this time, I had to stop. I had to stop and remember where I've been and from whence I came. In my first post I tainted my career. Hospitality was my first job, and a lot of the time I feel like it was more of a default job as opposed to a career choice. I just sort of got into it and accepted it. I was good at it, and I enjoyed it more than I care to admit. From a waitress to an assistant dining room manager on board a cruise ship and then starting up two businesses with my husband, both working successfully but detrimentally to the point where we were too afraid of failure to allow others to take the lead. When we moved to Abu Dhabi I worked again for a while but felt my footing was off; in reality, I needed much more. If you Google hospitality, it comes up with the following: the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers. Sounds easy enough; be nice and get paid…maybe that's why a lot of people end up in hospitality. It's easy money for an inexperienced person who can't be bothered to care about the customer or guest; it also forces us who are passionate to settle for far less than we're worth. So what about those of us who genuinely have a passion for making others feel welcomed? Those of us who are proud to be of assistance and who measure our excellence in smiles and appreciation? Those of us who aren't valued just because of our job title as a waitress or waiter? We are rugs under the feet of society, and still we shine. (This isn't an advertising or marketing blog post, but I am going to mention a few places.) Hotels, restaurants, retail stores, and airline staff. Hi, we're happy to be of service. How may we help? Starting with hello is a great place to start. We are genuinely happy to help you. Allow us the pleasure of a simple greeting. Many times we're given a name badge; these badges identify us as individuals just like you. When you take the time to know us by name, we feel seen, and when we feel seen, we perform at our best. We are not just the waitresses, waiters, or food servers. We are not that girl or that guy. We are not the one with the black hair or blonde hair or the one with the mole, freckles or blue eyes. We have feelings just like yours. If you come out to visit our establishment and you're having a bad day, we are not your punching bags, and our service most certainly doesn’t deteriorate with your mood. However, if you allow us to, we can make your day a little brighter, and if we can spare the time, we'll happily lend an impartial ear and empathize with you; after all, everyone is someone. We do our best. If ever we aren't doing our best, be kind; it takes a hurricane for us to bring our problems to work; they're best left at the door, but on occasion they follow us around like heavy grey clouds. It's not an excuse for bad service, but remember we are human, much like you are, and in that way we are equal.  Some of us work longer hours than you'll ever work and get paid a lot less than some of you ever will (I will reiterate that being in hospitality is an undervalued profession), but for the genuinely passionate employees, our hearts and minds are in the right place when it comes to being of service to you. We are not less of a person because our wages are lower; we do not deserve to have lower wages if only to cost-cut with less than competent staff, and we definitely aren't to be treated like we don't matter just because we take your orders and bring your food to your table. I had two separate pleasures at one establishment that need mentioning (remember this is not a marketing blog or advertising blog). I worked at Café Nolta, my first job in the UAE. I met the loveliest, most down-to-earth people there. And further to that, there was ATLON. Circumstances changed, and I had to leave, but not without getting to know some of the most present hospitality staff I'd ever had the pleasure of working with. Fast forward a couple of months later, and knowing my in-laws loved a good quiz, I suggested going to ATLON. We invited some friends and extended family and had the most enjoyable time. One week later we were back.  I could name everyone, but that wouldn't make for the most exciting blog, so I apologize if you're not mentioned… Otis, Gigi, Raiza, Mitch, Josie, Lady (she's a real lady), Billy, Aboosh, and Chef Ghandi. You'll all ask why I forgot you, but honestly, I haven't. These are some of the people that made our visit special, and I can't say how much I appreciate you and how much you matter in the difference between a good business and a great one.  Know that you are all seen. We enjoyed dinner at BORD EAU by Nicholas Isnard in the Shangri-La Hotel, but our whole experience was really by John, the knowledgeable and friendly waiter who provided warm, welcoming service and paid attention when we went to the restroom, ensuring that the dishes were served the moment we were back and comfortably settled again, but not too eager as to rush our experience. Outside of restaurants and in my daily routines, there is Joy, the beautiful young lady who never forgets to say hello and inquire about how we are when we pass by the sweet kiosk in Mycity Mall. There are Blaise and Marwar in Carrefour, and although I haven't inquired about their names, the two gentlemen at the butcher counter and one at the fish counter always have ready smiles.  There is Dorlyn and Jinkie from the school enrolment office who have answered with patience every inquiry I've had and Fatima from the girls previous school who, although tired and stressed with families new and old, still took time to prioritize our needs.  These people have names, and they are all somebody, and without them we wouldn't have the pleasure of having someone there when we need help or when we want to enjoy a special occasion and have the expectation of being served and treated well. Yes, we get paid; it's our job, but for some of us…maybe most of us, it's also about making you feel important.  We make a career out of your happiness and satisfaction. Sometimes the service may not be what you expect or want, then please don't tear us down. We are human; mistakes are inevitable, and sometimes things aren't up to us.  Constructive criticism is equally as important as praise for a job well done, and we appreciate kind comments that help build us up. It is not your job to destroy us because you think of us as less than; instead, help us serve you better by recognising our value as people equally as important as yourself, just on a different career path. As much needs to be said to employers… Yes, anyone can do the job, but how many can do the job with love? How many of us find that this is the job we look forward to when we get up in the morning, that this job makes us happy, but we're still denied a decent pay grade because the can't be bothered, just here for the money people devalue us? We're tough and filled with potential to build empires. All it takes is some recognition. So when you next go out, pay a little more attention to the person helping to make your experience a golden one. We have a name, we are a person, and we want to know, "How can we help you?"

How do you start a blog post when your mind seems completely blank? I imagine that the words would flow effortlessly from keyboard to screen, that this post will resonate with someone, somewhere far away and make them sit up suddenly and say “oh my gosh, she’s amazing” I am amazing this much I know but I feel like I lack the ways and means to make others realise it. Life has been a plethora of experiences I’ve been able to look back on to confidently say I am where I am today because of them. But I’m also well trained in holding myself back from achievement. Of late I’ve recognised that in subtle ways I’m more honest and less inclined to hide my truth with the people I love. Feeling like the proverbial black sheep all my life hasn’t been easy. Overthinking, wanting to say what I think and then saying nothing at all, biding expectations to avoid the critical eye of failure. No one has ever really known the true me… In 2010 I left South Africa for good to live in England. I had met my insanely handsome and wonderful husband a few months prior to that and in a whirlwind we got married and had our first daughter. There’s a stigma attached to people who leave home for other countries, especially when the other country is 1st world compared to the 3rd you left behind. But no one thinks that the struggles endure. Yes I had more stability and that meant I could do things I wouldn’t have been able to if I had chosen to stay in South Africa. My daughters’ future was safer, more secure. Opportunity was readily available if you wanted it bad enough and life was slightly more affordable on the grand scale. But for all of you who think I abandoned the people I love…I’m over your ignorance. You never called, never wrote, never celebrated the important moments with me because you thought that I considered you to be smaller than me. You never took the time to understand, just kept beating that dead horse hoping to prove it was very much alive. You never helped when it was needed, taking for granted my status as an expat with that supposedly larger than average bank account, and making yourselves feel better because who could possibly be worse than me for not wanting to help the people I say I love but treat like fools. Me sat on my own in a country that supposedly had it all except that said country denied me the right to my own family but you didn’t know that either so I don't blame you. You didn’t know that my choices to boomerang my family were not my own but a sanction of my “rich existence” in my new country. You thought I was being selfish when I visited a new country instead of martyrizing myself to avoid criticism. You didn’t know that my heart was broken or how guilt consumed me every waking moment. You didn’t know because you never asked.  Your losses were mine and at those times you had family to hold you, family to share the memories with. I cried in silence and on my own for the ones we loved together but you didn’t know, you didn’t think that I mattered because when I chose to cross the sea I denied you in preference of a rich life and this meant I surely didn’t care so wasn't worth checking on But, for all you have and have not done and for all the care you’ve taken or left I am grateful. One day I will knock and we will remember that we are part of the same and that my experience is your experience.  One day you will ask and I might tell. For now my memories of us as we were are what keeps me smiling and at the same time remembering that the burden of loving and living is not easy.  I will never turn my back, I never have. I have loved from afar no matter the reception. I have placed myself at your celebrations and applauded you at your successes, I have held you close at funerals and felt your pain. I love your children and invite them to live life majestically and I hear that they are but I will wish them more always I will never not love and not only you because everyone is worthy. I will endeavour to show my humanness and my ability to see you when you’re at your most vulnerable. You must know that I am here. My pockets may not be deep like you think they are but I will strive to do all I can to ensure that each time you’re thought about you feel loved, understood and accepted. Am I angry? Sometimes. Do I feel left out? Only when there's so much happiness that I remember I have no part in. Am I envious? Well just in healthy doses. But I'm proud and happy nonetheless to be the black sheep I get to love you from afar. And yes, I have moved country again, It's not as easy this time but I'm happy because God has given me another opportunity to grow and I've accepted that have to live with some additional bumps in the road because of it. But I imagine the best future and I imagine you there and I imagine your smiles and the happiness we'll all feel and share and we'll do it all because I imagine it will all be possible. I realise my intro has nothing to do with the rest of the post but I’m grateful the words have flowed. I love you

I’ve been abundantly blessed to meet many people from various walks of life. As I reflect on my journey, I think of my first friend—the one who has always been there, even when I wasn’t the one I’m not sure will ever understand but my love for them has never ever faded because they taught me so much about being a friend. I also remember the friends who shaped me and helped me become the person I am today. And then there are the more recent acquaintances, the ones I’ve approached with a bit more caution because I know the hurt that can sometimes ensue, and these friendships can be too much at times and at others too little.  In today’s world, when we are unsure about something, we often turn to Google for answers. I did just that when I tried to define what it means to be a good friend. One point stood out to me: “Someone who I can call on, that one person I know will drop everything to be with me when I’m in crisis.” For years, I thought I was that friend. I’ve always tried to be there for others, but the hard truth is, I’ve never been needed or even thought of in those critical moments by the people I considered friends. I started to wonder if I was ever important enough, at least to them. At one point, I worried it might be about status or position. I don’t own a house, and my car isn’t the latest model. I live in a small rented home, and my job doesn’t pay as much as others. Maybe it was because I never put much effort into the way I presented myself—I’m a no-makeup, comfy-clothes kind of girl. I’ve travelled and left many people behind and I tell myself they just don’t understand me anymore. I’m also not the best at socialising; I’ve always said I’m a socially unsociable person. When meeting new people, I try to ask the right questions and give thoughtful answers, but when I’ve answered all their questions and they’ve answered mine the conversation dissipates and at a stalemate my mind goes blank. I begin to panic and wonder what to say next, afraid the friendship will become awkward or fade into nothing when all I really want is another friend, never a thought about whether the other person even wants to be mine. I’ve often found myself as the friend who has to be invited or else others will feel bad. The friend who’s always the last to know, the one people invite out of obligation rather than desire. Eventually, the phone stops ringing, and the messages stop coming. I’m left sending occasional messages like, “Hey, hope you're all doing well! It's been a while, we should get together soon.” The replies are always polite: “We’re doing great, how about you? Yes, it has been too long! Let’s plan something soon.” But the plans never materialize, and I don’t really expect them to. Then, every so often, I pause. I think of the strangers I’ve met, the people who have grown on me and the friends I’ve inevitably kept. My mind slows down, and I remember that I do have friends. Maybe I’ve never counted them, or maybe I didn’t realize how valuable they truly are. The truth is, I don’t need to count my friends. I can look around and know exactly who they are, no count necessary and one hand is plenty to add them all up and these people, they mean the world to me.  Notice that in a world where social media measures popularity by the number of “friends” or followers we have, true friendship is not about numbers or appearances. Facebook and Instagram often lead us to compare our lives to others, but behind every perfectly curated post, we all face struggles. So, if you’re like me and find yourself worrying about popularity or being overlooked, it’s okay. We don’t need to be the cool or extroverted friend, the rich friend, the stylish friend or the one with thousands of followers. We may not always be thought of in moments of crisis…or at all, but the friends we do have are worth more than their weight in gold. We are enough as we are, and if our friendships reflect that, then we have something truly priceless. Feel free to reach out to me via Instagram messaging if you share these thoughts. I’d love to hear from you. This blog is inspired by my own experiences, and I hope it resonates with others who feel the same. For F.A.H, C.T.M, K.A, D.B, A.J.P and C.T.M I love you all immensely

When I was 20, something very significant happened to me. I lost my brother; he was 26 years old. I know many people suffer the loss of a sibling for various reasons, some too onerous to fathom, and others may say it was an inevitable occurrence in their lives. My brother knew he wouldn't be around very long—an almost cruel fact—to know that your life would be cut short. But he was more gracious for knowing and more of a teacher in my life than he ever knew. It's been 20 years since his soul took flight, and I wish I had a recording of his voice or a video of him so I can recall his laugh, but all I have is the sting of his absence and the memory of our last argument, which makes me laugh, and in that moment, if I sit really quietly, I can almost hear him again, laughing with me at our stupid anger over who was going to watch the TV. I grappled for meaning after we lost him, and so did my parents. I was left to cope unaided.. My mother needed time to heal in a place away from the fog that the world seemed to envelope her in time and time again, and my father struggled to face the reality of it.  My brother's death came at a time when we didn't have a place to call home, and we relied on friends and family to provide shelter. I was afraid and alone, and I lacked the confidence I used to have when my brother had been with me. I had no one to turn to who understood me or what was happening in the depths of my own worn-to-the-bone soul. I was an abandoned 20-year-old. Too old to be seen as a child and too young to be anything other than hurt and conflicted. It was around the same time I began looking inward and started learning to trust my instinct. That first thought, the first feeling. I blamed these thoughts and feelings for leading me astray, because they did many times and I made stupid mistakes, enough to ask myself if this was the person I wanted to be. I think that asking myself this question kept me grounded. I'd look around and tell myself others were much worse off. I couldn't justify my emotions against what they were feeling, and so even in the face of ridicule, I'd smile and nod, accepting things that would put me at a disadvantage so I could make people feel better or, at times, gain things that made no difference to them, and I'd tell myself this is just so even when I wanted to be angry. Maybe they'd like me more. My existence was punitive. I didn't mean anything to anyone and I sat in silence, ignored and heartbroken even by those who called themselves family. I did my best in college, but I got suspended for trying to make ends meet within my experiential work period. I nodded and accepted the verdict, and to save myself, I dropped out completely. No one bothered to fight for me, so I stopped fighting for myself.  One day I was at work; I loved my work then. When the phone rang, I picked up; it was my boss wanting a rundown of the store's performance, and I happily rattled this off, but before hanging up, I told him I needed to quit. I still don't know where it came from, but I had a truth within that my life had greater meaning. I saw and heard my brother everywhere, and I felt him telling me I was made for more, or maybe it was my own still small voice. At 23 years old, I left South Africa. I got on a plane for the first time, shaking in my boots at the prospect of intentionally leaving everything I knew when I knew little to nothing at all. I initially struggled with the loneliness of being out on my own, but I realised something—no one knew me. I could build a new life no matter the expense. I could turn my back on the things that hurt and push toward making myself better. Leave the lies behind and the sad story of my childhood, where I grew up too soon while no one really took the time to notice. I could choose to be as visible or as invisible as I liked, and no one would care. I chose to stay invisible; it was easier than speaking out. When I write this blog, I write honestly, and without thought, I allow it to come, and then the feelings suddenly come too, and I feel for all the people in the world who feel stepped on or overlooked, who feel abandoned by the crippling pain of loss and being left behind. These people are closer than we like to think but then I feel her heart... I need to tell you. I love you dearly, and I've never said it enough. I need to tell you more than anything else in this world that you have always been wanted and always been loved. You who sits in the silence of your bedroom, alone and defeated.  He may have denied you, she may have left you behind; and when a blessing disguised as trouble came they most likely thought they knew what was best for you, and you, like me, accepted that this was so. And it was, so we were both right about this. He may have loved you, but not in the way you needed to be loved, and I know in the end he didn't want to leave, but his journey was never meant to run parallel to yours. But now it's your turn. Stand up; I am here. I never had a chance to lose you because you were always in the same place, you always found it difficult, but it's time to move. It's time for you to find her and the love her the way I do. She is worthy. When you slip, know that I am always here. The trials will always come, and the pain will wane if you allow it to. You've spent 50 years in silence feeling unloved, but you've been loved for 40 of those, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I denied your hurt as idleness and your pain as an excuse to not chase your dreams. That the anger you hide causes you bitterness and frustration. You were the one my child eyes looked up to. The one I longed to be as pretty as. The one who bought me my first Levi jeans. You were always loved by me, no matter how different we are. You are alive, dear one...live. Kick down the walls, burn the defences, scream, and never mind who watches, hears, or talks. Louder! In life, when we're faced with things we don't always think we can handle, then we need to just allow them to be. Take a moment and breathe. Wherever you're sitting or standing, what do you feel? Don't let fear creep in. Yesterday is gone; nothing can be done to change that. Tomorrow is a gift; allow it to surprise you. You are alive right here and now in this one given moment. Look up; this moment is yours; listen to it and do something great, and whatever you do... Don't overthink it.

When you move homes and countries as much as I have... or maybe even do, then there are a few things in life that can make sense.  I’ve spent my life trying to make sense of everything, trying to understand and put into named boxes my potential, my beliefs, the moments I’ve spent procrastinating and justifying my procrastination, good mothering habits and those not so good habits, the opportunities and the judgements of both myself and others, only to toss them all aside in the knowing that my life didn’t require the boxes and that I was just looking for an excuse to hold onto the things that the world could offer me in exchange for my silence.  But I had a secret weapon; I could use this in any way I pleased. It was a habit formed when I was around 9 years old. Many people will take this weapon for granted; we all learn how to do it, and many people may think there’s better things to do, but I had a stage in my young life when I needed the escape. An escape that could only be found in words written on pages and pages of books and novels. I delved into Judy Bloom and Betsy Byars transitioning into the popular Sweet Valley Series by Francine Pascal and other books where people lived perfect lives. The kind of life I wished I had. I transitioned to Joan Lingard, then Nora Roberts, snuck in Danielle Steele, and Virginia Andrews when the library became automated and I didn’t need to show my book titles to the stuffy librarian (in my child mind, librarians were middle-aged to elderly ladies who tutted over the smallest of things while their spectacles balanced precariously on the ends of their noses). I hid in a secret universe. I didn't have to make excuses here or even be myself. I had all I needed to not have to pretend or live up to the expectations of others. I didn’t know that what I was running away from was actually myself. Once I accepted that I couldn’t box up all the living I had already done and that reality was something I couldn’t hide from forever, I started a slow, painful transition into the world. Much like kids with mobile phones these days, I felt socially awkward and struggled to accept that people wanted to be my friends. I thwarted my life with parts of books I had read to make myself important, and then when I was on the cusp of being found out, I backed away.  The hurdles were hard and unpredictable. The people entering my life seemed carefree and determined, unlike me, who had no idea about anything. I felt unfortunate, beaten by self-doubt, which existed alongside self-preservation. I longed for a way out. It was around this time I was given the name of an author who changed my reading genre and partially my perspective. Eleven Minutes was the first book I read by Paulo Coelho. The characters surprised me. I could almost feel them. This was very quickly followed by The Alchemist; this book was quietly magical and filled with wisdom not many will appreciate. It’s a book that will come to those who are ready to understand the simple complexity of it. It changed my life, and I became hungry for philosophical text. Inspired by authors like Eckhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra, Rhonda Byrn, Thich Nhat Hanh, The Dalai Lama XIV, and spiritual teachers of like mind, I began to put into motion what I had read about. But I was still falling short, feeling hopeless, and I opened a box and put those lessons within it, and I tried to carry on. You know when everything seems to be a little coincidental... That’s how every day went for me following my partial spiritual awakening. Songs that played on the radio, books that I encountered that went unread, the mention of something profound in meaning as if it was meant only for me. And then I found God, and I felt lifted, but I had so many questions. Not about the existence of God or about my faith in him, not the common questions about why the good die young. Not even about my off-centred existence. I pushed them aside because, without a doubt, I suddenly knew and felt one thing—that I was loved by God, and I was in no position to question this pure, steadfast love. Were we not instructed in the Bible to never question God (Romans 9:20)? This led me to Rev. J. Martin, who speaks plainly and clearly about the love our Father has for us. I was encouraged to wait on God’s perfect timing, to stop worrying (easier said than done), and to surrender so God could take control. I prayed fervently and spoke to God as if he were a friend in the room with me, and I knew God was listening. I felt it, as sure as rain on my skin.  My questions stemmed from my self-indulgent philosophies and all the books I’d previously read. The biggest question I had was: Where is God?  My prayers, it seemed, continued to float away. Was I doing something wrong, and where was he truly if he wasn’t paying attention while he was surely in the room? I continued to pray though and began noticing that certain prayers were not being answered but they were being granted in the least expected ways. A challenge in the midst of my questionable doubt while I never doubted the prayer being granted. Was it me? Dear person, if you’re still with me, I can only surmise that you understand my confusion and that you’re looking for something that mystifies you too. I wanted to be honest and let you know that life is a myriad of experiences. I’m now at the point where I feel the pull, but I’ll leave that for another day. If you ever felt the way I do or if you currently do, I invite you to open conversation. Maybe you have the answers I’m not wide awake enough to find yet. Maybe we can help each other find this purpose we all long to find. Next time I’ll tell you about that prayer that was granted and the journey I now find myself on. Some of the books I’ve read are listed below. Click on the links to have a look or purchase, and if you’re anything like me, what you need to read next will speak to you. When you move homes and countries as much as I have... maybe even do, then there are a few things in life that can make sense.