Tariro

Recently I was listening to an audiobook, Killing Comparison by Nona Jones and also listening to some excerpts from her most recent one, The Gift of Rejection. Both inspired me to write this post and I highly recommend them to anyone who is struggling to find their place in a world that is constantly pressuring us to place value in external approval (maLove nemaLikes 😉) and not necessarily making a genuine positive impact in this world. I have always been one to think that I am very lucky when I get an opportunity, regardless of how big or small it is. Whether it was being invited to a party, asked out on a date, chosen for a job, or even included in a friendship. These kind of moments filled me with gratitude. I was always happy to be “picked,” and it felt like an acknowledgment that, maybe, I was worthy of something good in my life. But if I’m being honest, there was a deeper layer to this belief that I hadn’t fully realised. The feeling of luck I had wasn’t just gratitude. It was rooted in a belief that I was somehow “undeserving” unless I was chosen, hand-picked, or given a chance by a parent, relative, friend, employer, client, church leader, boyfriend or spouse. I’m not really sure if middle child syndrome also contributed to me having this mindset. I just thought the opportunities I received were rare gifts, and therefore, I was always walking on eggshells, trying to please, trying to earn, trying to prove that I deserved them. Unfortunately, this mindset led me down some unhealthy paths. I became a people-pleaser, constantly sacrificing my needs and boundaries in order to keep others happy. I became a perfectionist, always pushing myself, and sometimes others, to be “good enough” or “mistake-free” even though it always felt like I never reached those states. I found myself tolerating (and at times even contributing to) toxic behaviours, toxic relationships, and even disrespect because, somewhere deep down, I convinced myself that this was the best I could get, and the best I could offer in return. I thought this was just the life I was meant to have, and that I should be grateful for it. I didn’t realise that I was worthy of more, or that more was even possible. I struggled internally with this for a long time, unable to imagine a better life for myself, because, well, I guess I didn’t know better. I thought that this was the reality I had to accept. But there was a cognitive dissonance that kept creeping up on me and would show up as me trying to stand up for myself, for example. However, I didn’t quite know how to shift from trying to please everyone to doing what I felt aligned with my personal values. I wish I could say the outcome of that was always pleasant. It wasn’t – but that’s a story for another day. Then fast forward to a few years ago, I found myself in therapy and that experience set me on a path that did two things. First, it helped me identify this unhealthy mindset. Second, it led me to God, my Father, and this knowledge of Him started healing the pain that came out of living with this mindset and ultimately altering my thinking patterns. My therapist at the time unpacked what salvation meant in a way I had never heard before. Most importantly, she helped me understand who God really was and the role He played in my life. I have always known God, but it was only at this point that I began to truly know Him and relate to Him as my Father. I must admit, losing my earthly father had a lot to do with me getting here as well. Growing up, I really had a surface-level understanding of who God was. I knew that He created me, that He had given me a set of guidelines to follow in His Word, and that my purpose was to try to live in a way that pleased Him. But there was something missing. I thought that to earn His approval, I had to follow His rules and guidelines to the T. I thought that I had to never make mistakes and never fall short. And when I inevitably did, I believed that I was one of the “lucky” ones if and when He still chose to bless me. It’s only now that I have come to realise and learn that my understanding of God was so limited. Because now I know that God isn’t about luck. He’s not about choosing a select few to be His favourites. We were already chosen. He’s not about making me earn His love or His blessings. He is good all the time, and His goodness is not based on my ability to be perfect. He is good because of who He is, not because of anything I can ever do. He already knows I am flawed. Now, as I spend more time with Him and continue to understand the depth of His love and the abundance of His provision, I realise that God created each of us with purpose. I wasn’t just placed on this earth to “get by” or to be lucky every time something good happened. I wasn’t an accident, a random being trying to earn His love. No. God intentionally knit me together in my mother’s womb. He had a purpose for me, a plan for my life, and that purpose was to fulfil a role in His Kingdom. There is no way God would create such a beautiful world and such beautiful people (His children) to hate them. So if God is good all the time and if He created me with a purpose then surely He would provide for me everything I need to fulfil that purpose, right? 28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the

Sometime last week, I put this title in my drafts because it is something that kept coming to my mind. How many times do you decide you want to do something and then chicken out because you’re afraid of the outcome? How many times have you seen someone pursue an idea you once had and thought, “That’s exactly what I wanted to do when I thought about this idea in 2016!”? The aftermath often becomes a spiralling cycle of shoulda-woulda-couldas. For me, this has happened countless times. I have an idea, but fear holds me back. I start doubting its potential: Maybe this idea is only good in my head. Maybe it will fail to take off. Maybe my family might think I’m crazy. Maybe I won’t be as good as [insert competition]. I find ways to disqualify myself from the game before even playing, and I know I’m not alone in this. Fear is “an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.” In the case of my ideas, which aren’t in any way dangerous or harmful, I’m really trying to avoid the potential pain (a.k.a. heartbreak) that comes from something not working out. Nobody likes to feel unpleasant emotions. This got me thinking: what exactly is the issue? Where does this threat come from? Why do some people boldly take action while others leave dreams as dreams? It’s widely accepted that positive outcomes are not always guaranteed. I concluded that my desire for control, over the outcome rather than the ideation and execution of an idea, plays a significant role in my hesitation. Imagine this: If we could control the outcome, the number of ideas brought to life would skyrocket. For example, if I wanted to set up a hair salon in my rural village in Guruve, and I could guarantee a return on investment of at least 15%, I would dive in with full confidence. Having that guarantee provides a sense of control over the outcome, right? But is there really a guarantee? There isn’t. Until an idea goes to market, it’s impossible to ensure any outcome. Take the aviation industry: to predict that a journey from Harare to Johannesburg could take approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes, there was a pioneer who first launched that flight years ago. They didn’t just put the plane in the sky; they researched, planned, and took calculated risks. I can’t just go to Guruve Centre and open a hair salon. I need to understand the potential market demographic, average disposable incomes of men and women in the area, present competition and understand if this is something that the community would want. Factors like religion and social norms could even influence how women would decide around this. But even with all this information, the only way I can know how they would receive the new service in the area is if I launch it and give them an opportunity to try it out. We didn’t know we needed an iPod until Apple launched one in 2001. Imagine if we had been stuck with those (now seemingly ridiculous) Sony Walkmans? Remember my favourite quote from I-Don’t-Know-Where which I last shared in my previous post? You don’t know what we don’t know. Imagine if Steve Jobs had been afraid? Imagine if Mark Zuckerberg had refused to talk to investors to grow Facebook? Imagine if he would have just pressed Ctrl + A + Delete on his code because he was afraid he wouldn’t succeed? So, now, when I think of this again and ask myself, what would I do if I wasn’t afraid? My answer: I would take those leaps. I would let go of my desire to want to control outcomes 100%. I would embrace uncertainty even when it had the potential to ignite unpleasant emotions within me. I would allow myself to experiment and learn from my failures. I would reach out to others with similar dreams and collaborate. I would support others on a similar journey whist also learning from them. Most importantly, I would accept that fear is a natural part of growth, not a barrier. The next time fear whispers doubts in my ear, I’ll remind myself that the greatest stories often come from taking risks. Instead of letting fear dictate my decisions, I’ll challenge myself to act. Because what if the outcomes could lead to amazing journeys? What if, instead of “what if I fail?” the question becomes “what if I soar?” There is a motivational speaker and coach I worked with many years ago who always used to say that some of you are not even afraid of failure; that you are actually afraid of the possibility of things working out. “Ko zvikaita?” she would say (Translation: What if it works out?). Seriously, after putting in all the work you need to, what if it works out? What if you succeed? I believe that’s a narrative worth pursuing. Note to self: Remember the key “word”: Put in the work that’s required of you. Feel the fear and do it anyway!

This quote was shared by a dear friend of mine a few years ago. It was something her sister, who was our age mate, had said to her before she passed on. It spoke to me and touched me deeply. I reached out to my friend and asked if I could create a graphic to share the quote and credit her sister. She agreed, and it has remained on my IG timeline ever since. I often think about this: Life rewards you for the portion you fight for. It forces me to examine my life – what I’m prioritising and the outcomes I’m achieving. We often complain about different aspects of our lives not working out – work, parenting, marriage, friendships, businesses. But what are we really pouring into those areas? A few stories for you around this… After giving birth to my son, I wanted to lose weight. But that was all there was to it: I was simply WANTING IT. Was I exercising? No. Did I adjust my diet? No. Doughnuts and fried chicken were “life”. Yet, I felt sad about being three sizes up from my usual. I wasn’t doing anything to achieve the outcome I desired. Over the past year or two though, I’ve finally managed to shed a few kilos. I try to walk more, and I hope to be running again soon (yes, I used to run 5K “easily”!). My portions have gotten smaller and I try to avoid junk food, though that latter part has been a real fight for my life. I love love love potato crisps! I’ve talked to several friends and acquaintances who are interested in working remotely. When I ask what they’re doing every day to get closer to their first, second, or third client? Crickets. “Build it and they will come”, right? Wrong! Like any business, you have to work every single day to get the attention of your intended clients. If there’s a probability that out of every 100 people you sell yourself to, one will buy, then for the 100 items or service slots you have, you should aim to sell them to at least…10,000! If you only manage to sell to 100, it would be overly ambitious to expect your items to sell out – almost unrealistic. I’ve shared about my son being diagnosed with autism. He is classified as non-verbal, which means he cannot communicate using spoken language. However, as we learn to navigate the challenges of his condition we have found other ways to encourage communication, even without words. Hours upon hours of speech and occupational therapy have also helped him improve things like eye contact and following instructions – both of which are a huge part of communication. Just yesterday, he wanted to go outside with me and came running to the door. I told him, “Go get your shoes,” and he quickly ran to the room to get them. It’s little things like this that remind me how far we’ve come on this journey. Yet, on some days, I do feel like we’re not making any progress. Why, you might ask? Well, individuals on the spectrum thrive on routine, and when they fall off that routine, it’s incredibly hard to get them back on track. These routines encompass their basic life activities like eating, going to school, bathing, brushing teeth, potty training, tidying up, and even sleeping! My son doesn’t even like us changing the direction we take when going to or coming from school. And it’s not like he will say, “Oh mummy, I don’t want to take this route.” He will throw a tantrum loud enough for bystanders to think I’m trying to kidnap him because he can’t use his words. So as I think about where my son is now and where I hope he’ll be in the near future, I realise that I can’t take his routines lightly. I can’t afford regression in the important and basic things. I need to be increasingly intentional about his life. As much as I believe God is ultimately in control, I know I must do what I can while I still can. The rest I surrender to God, because He is my son’s Maker, knows what he needs and gives it to him on time. His will takes precedence over mine. It’s my birthday this month, and I’ve been thinking: if I could be granted one wish, even for just a day, it would be to have a conversation with my son. I’d love to know what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling, what he thinks of me, whether he likes my cooking. I just want to know. When he came into this world just over four years ago, I never imagined that I would be wishing for these things at this point in his life. I recently looked at old videos of him before he turned one; how he could say “thank you” and clap his hands upon instruction. But that all went away. That’s autistic regression for you – a loss of previously acquired skills or a backtracking of developmental milestones. A few months ago, my son was reading more than 50 random words – mostly animals – but today, he doesn’t. I’m honestly not sure whether he can’t anymore or just doesn’t want. Sometimes it feels like someone switched my child and gave me another or pressed RESET on his brain, but that’s regression. For basic life skills regression can set you back weeks or even months! Routines are crucial in ensuring he masters the skills so that he can eventually do them independently. This year, my son finally started feeding himself. Although it’s still incredibly messy on most days, I’m glad he doesn’t just sit there expecting someone else to feed him all the time. Of course, there are days when he doesn’t want to lift a finger, but there’s definitely progress in the right direction. Thank God! Today, I feel like I’m fighting the fight

Two years ago today, you cut your last birthday cake. You’d turned 73, and every time I look at the pictures and videos from that day, I am so sad seeing how frail you had become from all the chemo you were having to go through. Yet you remained positive and still tried to live your life as normally as possible – working and all. I remember in that moment, when you were cutting your cake, you said, “Ndinoriona here ini rechi74?” (Translation: Will I get to see my 74th one?) I swallowed a blob of hurt and pain hearing you say that, even though we did encourage and assure you that, of course, you would. But you didn’t. God decided it was time. Exactly 34 days later, He called you Home. Oh, the pain of that day! Even as I type this out, it’s cutting through my chest like a blunt bread knife – rough, painful, lasting. And that blob in my throat is back, wanting me to cry. I don’t even think I realised the full impact of losing you at that moment because of everything that needed to be done—funeral logistics and all the drama associated with that. Then it all passed, and life had to go on. The fact that the real funeral starts when everyone else is gone is not talked about enough. By the time you passed, I was already in therapy dealing with the lemons life had dealt me. So I continued, but to be honest, I didn’t feel better as soon as I would have wanted. Life seemed to be getting worse. On the outside, to someone who I hadn’t told what I was going through, it appeared like I had it all together – a strong woman who had it all figured out. But deep down inside, my world was falling apart. Everything was just crumbling, and more than anything, I needed you. I needed my daddy. I needed your assurance. I needed your encouragement. I needed your protection. I needed you to deal with some people who were getting on my nerves because some people really muster the audacity to deliver nonsense behaviour once one’s parent is gone (I wish I were joking about this one 🙄). But no, daddy, you were gone. In a last-ditch effort to “find you,” there was a day I went to the prayer garden at your parish, and the cry I cried that day. I was tired of a lot of things, and my spirit just needed some peace. That cry made me feel better. So I continued for a few weeks. Every day after dropping off your grandson at school, I would go into that garden – first to cry, then to pray. Eventually, it became just to read the Bible and pray. Some days, I would just sit and talk to myself. I don’t remember at what point I stopped, but I know I was beginning to feel better. I guess this was the beginning of my journey with God and learning to depend on Him wholly and fully. Because prior to that, ah, I depended on you, daddy – the solver of my two million seven hundred thousand five hundred and sixty-two problems. I was telling someone the other day that you took care of so many aspects of our lives that after you left, I was so disoriented that I even struggled to eat right for a bit. You always made sure there was healthy food around and would challenge us to make healthy choices. Dude, I know snitches get stitches, but the amount of cake that was eaten in the house last year? You would have been disgusted, I know. Also, Mum, if you are reading this, I am not saying you don’t give us healthy options. You just don’t make us feel bad for eating cake. Anyway, I digressed. So fast forward to this year – emotionally, I have gotten better. I started finding my way out of the pit of depression and sadness that clouded me after you had gone. The forgiveness journey my therapist got me started on two years ago began putting more pressure on me this year as I came to understand more about what Jesus did for me on the cross and the depth of God’s love for me. And understanding that I always have a Father in Him. He loved me first. I started rebuilding my life (again 😂). They should crown me the Queen of New Beginnings at this point, right? I also accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. I got baptised. I forgave. I asked for forgiveness. I went back to school. I started reading more books and watching less TV. I lost a whole 10kg since your funeral! Your girl is out here drinking water, eating more cabbage, minding her own business and making you proud 😂. I’ve started feeling a sense of calm even in the middle of storms. There are so many things that don’t appear “right” in my life at the moment, but since I learned another (more sustainable) way to fight my life’s battles, I have found so much reassurance from the promises of God’s Word. I read my Bible often, and it is so comforting. That said, I still think of you and every memory we shared often. And I miss you every day. We used to drive each other up the wall, but we still had each other. You always had my back in all seasons, even when your support was sometimes served with a side of your unfiltered, Korekore ChiKunda-inspired comments. There are things I go through today that make me wonder what you would say about them. For instance, I know for a fact if you were here, you’d be the one telling me everything I need to know about Autism because you liked to read on EVERYBODY’s behalf and then hook us up with the summary. But