Morning musings 1

I have noticed that when the sun sets I’m in a pretty bad mood. It’s like all the pain comes flooding in again, emotional and physical, and I find it hard to be happy for other people.

But what I have found to be the greatest foundation for a metaphor is that if you give your emotions time to fade, or jisort (sort themselves out) , if you give it a couple of hours or days or weeks, you will find yourself waking up in the morning feeling and being better.

You will be glad that you gave it time.

The metaphor that is the reality of the sun setting on your sadness, and rising on the promise of new joy is beautiful.

It’s wisdom. And I Thank God for it.

Whatever you believe in, even if it’s noting, (no judgment here) I hope that you gain wisdom from it, and that it brings you renewed joy and far reaching peace every morning.

Happy end of March babies.

I love you.
Thank you for being one of the reasons I stay sane and focused on my journey. Thank you for reading. Thank you for feeling with me.


Xxx

Ivy

Happ Poetry Day part 6: Hopeshi.

Hey again. So we’ve made it to day six. Day, idk for your journey in self isolation. I hope you’ve spoken to someone that loves you, deeply. (virtual hug). Now I present today’s feature… Hopeshi.

Hi. I’m Hope also known as Miss Hopeshi, a lover of life and a creative. I love creating content in form of videos on YouTube and writing on my blog. Find me on YouTube and Instagram @misshopeshi. My website is hopeshi.com

While growing up, I kept complaining to my mum that people(in public) always look at me so so so so so much. Have I emphasized enough? She told me that I’d get used to it. Well, I’m 23 now and they’re still staring, Mom!

Most of my friends who I walk with in town/ public places, normally complain that guys are staring. haha, sorry I don’t know why they do it. I just politely reply “that ukitembea na Mimi itabidi uzoee”

A couple of times I’ve been to dates (like twice, I don’t go to dates often, story for another day) where the guys have pointed out that the ladies serving us “wameniangalia vibaya”
I don’t know whether they tell me this to promote female rivalry or what because personally when I’m alone, I barely notice such things until it’s pointed out to me.

These kind of scenarios got me wondering, how am I going to live going forward?

For instance, the other day (to be specific Saturday) I was in the supermarket with my sister and gosh, have you ever thought you’re trending somewhere and you don’t know? Or your printed picture lays somewhere plastered on a tree written “WANTED”, Or a picture written “thief” is on the supermarket notice board showing a nervous you stealing from the supermarket’s shelves. Or worst case scenario, your face is somewhere plastered on a tree (several trees) printed, “MAPENZI,NGUVU ZA KIUME, PESA! CALL THIS NUMBER 0712345678”
how the poster would look like

Back to the storytime. I was busy window shopping for the TV I’d want in future (a girl can only dream) when these two guys (millennials, men, maybe early 20s) stared at me suspiciously. You know, that kind of stare just before someone says hi. That one. I had to walk in between them to make them stop staring. They never did say hi even though I could see it in their eyes…

It felt like an episode of an Indian movie where me as a character would turn and bang their 2 heads together and they would fall! I would then stand on them victoriously and proclaim, “Staring is rude guys!!”
They’d learn their lesson and never stare. Again.

I digress.

So, at this point I know you might be wondering whether I’m the one asking for the attention, maybe by “my dressing” or sth. But lemme be honest, when I’m dressed to kill, I am normally comfortable with the stares because, you know, I’d stare at myself too??
But when all I’m wearing is some baggy jeans, a hoodie and no make-up, plus I had my ugly glasses, like bro? 😭 nothing about me would/should pass interest.

I really wished the two gentlemen did say hi or sth because this would have definitely mitigated the awkwardness. They dead-ass triggered my anxiety!



Point of this long story is, SAY HI GUYS whenever we meet in these streets. I don’t bite!

Isn’t it happy for today’s post, HAPPY NEW MONTH ☺️.

If you suffer from anxiety, the link below might be of help. You are welcome!
https://youtu.be/kKR_zc37RQI

Stay lovely.

Xxx

Mutheu wa Sumbi

Again.

I cried today. Because I was angry and frustrated. That my plans weren’t working out as smoothly as they usually do. That I can’t go home as soon as I want to. That I am alone, in that way, again. Alone with my thoughts and fears. Alone with my victories.

I know who I am. I know what I want. I know how to get it. But I can’t get it right now.

That’s why I am angry, and frustrated.
That’s why I want to tackle someone.
That’s why I want to break the glass jar of bath salts that you got me.

Thats why I regret leaving you.

A love of convenience that took years to build.
Crushed into nothing by egos and silence and distance.

Why does it take so long to make something beautiful, yet it takes one sentence to ruin it all?

I still don’t know.
Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow.

Hopefully..


Ivy.

From walking in pain…

To my local mall to get a balm for my aches.

I felt the pain transfer from the left side of my leg to the right side of my chest, as I took small steps forward.

Trying to control my breathing and focusing on the destination ahead.

I wish that I could buy a soothing balm for my soul. I am broken hearted.

I’ve ended my longest romantic relationship with a manic fling and a gut wrenching, hateful good-bye.

I started hating you months ago. When you were too busy for me. You must have thought that waking me up on a Saturday morning to give me some roses was romantic.

You literally left a few minutes after that.

By treating me as an after thought you gave me space to think about our relationship.

You know I don’t even like roses. I prefer long large trees.

Fuck flowers – Iyla

You know I’d rather have dried up, dead babies breath than have red roses from a stranger.

You banked our love on empty, pretty gestures and kisses. You didn’t want to help me when I needed you.

You insulted me, in a way you knew would hurt me, because I denied you physical affection.

Later, much later, we talked for about six hours straight. This was the first time in months we had a long, meaningful, face to face conversation.

I know when I lost you. I lost you in 2018, with a betrayal I made to save myself from your possible rage.

You didn’t tell me that I destroyed your trust.

Our love began to rot.

Festering deeply.

Deeply disgusting scents.

Sending my soul unto moarning.

I asked you if you were okay for one and a half years of my life.

And you lied to me each time.

Armed with anger (confusion, self loathing, insecurities), fear, jealousy and wrath at you denying our intimate moments…

You disregarding my feelings… And giving me the space you thought I needed.

Because you needed it.

I cheated on you. I take responsibility for the actions that led up my to infidelity.

Why can’t you accept your mistakes?

You say you wouldn’t abondon me. But you already have. I couldn’t believe that I let you have me after you let me go.

I didn’t regonize this Ivy. The one who let herself be less than only. The one who wanted you enough to break a godly vow in hopes that you would stay…. with me.

It turns out that you never could.

You asked me if I am a long term lover. I said I don’t know, I’ve never tried.

You said we would take it one day at a time. And when it came down to it. You let me down.

When the day came for you to be honest. You lied mercilessly.

When the day came for me to be faithful, I failed… Miserably.

When the day came where I finally told you how I feel and why I can’t love you anymore. You accused me of playing victim. You belittled me. You crushed any hope I had of ever loving you again.

You have been manipulating me for months, and I let you. I’ve been manipulating you too. I don’t even know how this all started. This toxic cycle.

All of your beautiful broken parts and your sharp jagged edges cut my skin.

You reached into me and when you looked at what was in your hands you were disgusted.

I don’t need the kind of love you give.

I don’t want wild love that comes and goes when he pleases, like I am a revolving door of yes and no and maybe.

I hope that I never see you again. And if I do, I hope I don’t recognize you. Because I am starting to think that you never wanted my sparks and all my dirty parts.

You wanted my title, my time, my body, my allegence, my spine, my smile…

I will not be your goddess. I am not your harlequin. You are not my joker.

Go find someone else to validate your ego and stroke the green flames of your self righteousness.

Fuck off Sir. Fuck the fuck off.

Sincerely

Ivy

The one you will never get back.

Who are you?

” The lord shall preserve me from all evil, He shall preserve my soul, the Lord shall preserve my going out and my coming in. From this time forth and even forever more, from this time forth and even…. Forever… More.”

When I was a child, some of my first memories were of music. 90s hip hop is my childhood theme, I am born free as they say in South Africa, 1994 baby.

On the first of july I arrived just in time for lunch, as I always do… (maybe my friends have noticed tihihi)

So, yeah, I arrived neh. I was within as they say in my home country Botswana. Even though I was born in Nairobi Kenya, shout out to my Kentswana buddies btw…

So I was chilling neh, then at 3/4 months I got on my first plane neh. I don’t remember how that was… Cause my memories don’t do that, (lmk if yours do in the comments below.)

Then I came to beautiful Botswana. My God, that place is AMAZING .

Y’all should come visit.

Anyways fast forward to 2020.

I’ve always had a hard time explaining who I am and where I am from because I am many things. I am not alone in this, EVERYONE IS MANY THINGS ALL AT ONCE. And that my friends is what being alive means. Being everything and sometimes feeling like you are nothing at all.

Yesterday I felt like nothing.

This morning I feel like a hero.

Saturday night I felt like a piece of actual excrement.

Now I feel like such a boss bitch and you can’t tell me I am not.

So, let me reintroduce myself.

“I am the stone that the builder refused…”

Jk, tihihi

I am Ivy Mutheu Sumbi, daughter of Mbula and Mulu. I am a Kamba woman. I am a Motswana by the virtue of being raised there. I am a Kenyan because I say I am a fucking Kenyan (bitch don’t get me started).

I am African despite having a Disney Channel accent.

I am clothed in strength and dignity.

I am currently laughing at the days to come.

So… That’s me.

Who the fuck are you to tell me otherwise.

Tell me who you are in the comments. You’ve been part of my family for 7 years now. All love.

Xxx

Ivy

Write a thank you note to yourself.

Thank you Ivy for giving hope a chance. For finding that you have more light in you than you ever thought you needed.

For letting yourself love and be loved. For giving God the chance to heal your beautiful soul.

For letting yourself be so full of joy that you have enough for your tribe. For being there for me when no one else was.

For letting yourself be understood, by yourself and letting go of pretense.

You look into my eyes each morning and assure me I will be okay. I am beauty. You amaze me every day darling.

I love you forever. This is for you.

Sweeter than you will ever know, because you struggle to believe what you’ve been told.

Stronger than a thousand sunsets, you are my moon. I long to romance you for eternity.

As I write this to let you know that I will be with you for now and always.

I choose to make you mine.

Love, Ivy

Heal.

One of the most beautiful things has to be those sweet smiles you share with yourself.
Smiling at the blue sky, or your phone.
At a private joke.
At how awesome you are.

Remember those smiles when you are down.
When you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see, remember that there is more to you than your image.

I am starting to accept that the highs and lows don’t matter as much as what I think about myself.

No matter how much weight I gain or lose, how I do my hair, what I wear, how I speak, where I am…

I matter. Amidst the chaos, difficulty, boredom and stickiness of healing from something I don’t understand. I am hopeful.

Because once in a while I look up, and feel the corners of my mouth rising up to a slight smile, and I remember just how beautiful I am.

❤️