Overcoming the Procrastination Trap: A Call for Help!

Lately, I’ve been stuck in a lazy loop, procrastinating like it’s my new hobby. I wake up with a long to-do list, but instead of tackling it, all I want to do is hit the snooze button and drift back to sleep. It’s a familiar cycle: I complete a task and feel a rush of excitement, but then I find myself sabotaging my productivity more often than not.

My schedule is usually jam-packed, but I’ve been trying to listen to my body. Unfortunately, that means I’ve accumulated a hefty backlog of work. Have you ever felt like you have all the time in the world, only to realize that time is slipping away? That’s exactly where I am right now, and I genuinely want to make a change.

Time isn’t on my side, and I need to tackle my pending tasks before the year slips away, leaving me with nothing to show for it. So, dear readers, I’m reaching out for your advice! What remedies do you have for overcoming laziness and procrastination? I’m eager to get back into focused mode ASAP because I don’t want to look back and see a year wasted. Let’s conquer this together!

Chasing Dawn

Sometimes I rise
In the stillness of the night,
Sleep evades me,
And the overthinker takes the stage.
A million questions whirl in my mind,
Each one unanswered,
Breaking me, hurting me.
Yet, I cling on until dawn.

The sunrise brings new light,
Illuminating my darkest fears.
I yearn for the day to linger,
But it slips away, only hours until nightfall.
I crave a peaceful sleep,
With dreams so sweet they wash my cares away.
I hold onto the hope that one day,
My wish will be granted.

Footsteps

I hear them in the silence of the night.
Fear grips me, and I wonder if I should check who it is.
They draw closer to the door;
I hear a gentle knock.
My heart skips a beat.
I just can’t get up,
and I continue to wonder who this visitor could be at such an odd hour.
I can’t go out right now, and I don’t know who to reach out to.
I glance at the clock—two more hours until dawn.
Winter nights feel endlessly long and dark.
Whoever it is, I hope they’re just passing by.
I need to get back to sleep.

Finding my Voice in Rural Ruminations

I recently started writing on a WhatsApp Channel, Rural Ruminations with Madhumeni Manyama https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029Vb66bVwJZg4CF9IINy1a. It’s been such a rewarding experience sharing insights about rural life as farmers and Agricultural Business Advisors for the government.

I’ve always wanted to write something agro-related but struggled to find the inspiration. I remember attempting to publish a book with a good friend, but it flopped because I couldn’t contribute tangible input. Now, I feel these rural ruminations might just lead me to a book.

I’m more of a creative writer than an academic, so anything requiring deep research and citations gives me a tough time. But I’ve finally found my happy space! Each story I share on this channel brings me immense satisfaction. It’s also made me realize how much farm life nourishes my soul—this is the kind of life I’ve always dreamt of.

Dear God, musikana arikufara! 💃🏾

Proud to be a part of the agricultural sector!!!

Is pubic hair meant to be shaved?

My crazy mind has been pondering this – is pubic hair really supposed to be shaved? I’ve got a higher dose of testosterone, which makes me a bit of an outlier. Testosterone is a dominant hormone in guys, but in girls, it’s not supposed to be too prominent. When it’s out of whack, it can cause some dude-like features, like a beard. I’ve been a hairy chick since puberty, rocking short hair and “falls” (side hairs that drop onto my cheeks) back in high school. As I’ve aged, I’ve developed a bit of a beard on my chin.

My hairiness meant I got pubic hair faster than my friends, and I started shaving earlier. But the more I shave, the faster and stronger the hair grows. On this freezing winter morning, I’m dreading the 5-minute wait for the hair remover to kick in. It’s cold, and I just wanna get outta the bathroom, but my armpits and “sacred space” are looking like a jungle.

Then my overthinking brain kicks in: if pubic hair is meant to grow, was it meant to be shaved? Who even came up with shaving sticks and cream? Sounds like a money-making scheme to me. Maybe we’re just supposed to be natural, let the hair do its thing, and just keep it clean. It’s weird how some ladies love their long hair but freak out about pubic hair – talk about double standards.

Don’t take me too seriously, though; I’m just trying to avoid the cold bathroom and the hassle of shaving.

Step by Step: Turning Footprints into Fresh Produce!

Yhoo! Today, I clocked in a whopping 24,564 steps! 😂 It’s a bit of a joke among us Agricultural Extension Officers—calling ourselves foot soldiers. I truly love my job, but today made me pause and think: is this really what I signed up for? My feet are practically on fire! 😩

I don’t mind the walk; it’s all part of my fitness goals. But doubling my target steps? That’s a whole new level of concern!

Despite the burning soles, I had a fantastic day connecting with my farmers. Seeing their excitement about this year’s bountiful harvest—kune maguta! And the best part? I scored some amazing goodies: fresh mealies, crisp cucumbers, juicy guavas, and both fresh and dried okra.

Overall, it’s been a beautiful day! But hey, it’s human nature to dwell on the negatives. So let’s flip the script and focus on the abundance. Grateful for such a fruitful day! 🌟🌽🥒

Falling for the Wrong Guy: My Quest for True Love

I, like many girls, have a bucket list of qualities I’m looking for in a partner to spend my life with. Over time, I’ve ticked and unticked some of these qualities, still searching for that special someone to grow old with. Although I feel a bit old for a fairytale romance, I haven’t lost hope. I still believe in giving love a chance.

I’m that girl who’s willing to kiss a thousand frogs before finding her prince charming. Each new relationship brings hope that I’ve finally found “the one.” My current relationship is no exception. The person I’m with doesn’t tick any of the boxes on my list, but somehow, he’s captured my heart. We’ve shared beautiful moments together, despite our vastly different backgrounds. He’s a rural boy, and I’m a city girl, but he makes me feel young and vibrant again.

I must admit, I’m crazy in love with him. However, our relationship took a drastic turn when I caught him cheating. He fed me lies, claiming he’d let go of the other relationship because he wanted only me. But the truth is, the other woman is still very much present in his life.

I’m done with him, but I’m finding it hard to let go. My attachment issues are breaking me. I’m angry with myself for ignoring the red flags and falling in love anyway. Why do I keep falling for the same type of guys? I need a change. I hope someday I’ll meet someone who truly loves and cherishes me.

Until then, I’ll keep believing in love and working on myself to recognize my worth and break free from toxic patterns.

Betrayed

Why is it that when love treats you so well,
and everything flows in the right direction, something bad happens?
I want to believe that the saying “love loves me not” is a fallacy.
After a long time hiding in my shell, far away from love,
he stole my heart—not just a piece, but all of it.
I am trapped under the spell of his affection.
He tells me I’m the only one,
and I believed him until recently, when I got a call from Mercy.
She begged me to let her have her man with some grace.
Oh, God, how did I not see this coming?
I feel so foolish. 🤦🏾
How can I let him go?
He is everything I’ve been waiting for.
Babe, how could you do this to me?
I have given you my all.
You know it,
you see it,
you feel it.
Isn’t that enough?
You tell me you’ve been wanting to let her go, but it’s been tough.
Really?
So why would you come to me and make me believe you’re the only one?
It hurts to know that these past five months have been full of lies.
I want you to be mine and mine alone.
I can’t stand this betrayal.
My heart is bleeding, my love.
You’ve struck me where it hurts the most.
My heart is now just pieces.
Do you know how much effort I put into mending it?
Only for you to come and shatter it again.
You betrayed me, mudiwa.
I cry and hope that I heal soon.

Today, My Mireya Turns One!

Yippee! The joys of motherhood finally embraced me at the age of 42. It was a time I never thought I would experience, especially after miscarrying a decade ago. This child is truly a miracle. Doctors had ruled out the chances of my husband and me conceiving, and there was even a time we consulted a sangoma, who confirmed our fears. Eventually, we decided to wait on the Lord, realizing we had done all we could as human beings.

Last year, around mid-year, I received the most exciting news of my life: I was pregnant. This wonderful revelation came as I was saving for surgery to address the fibroids that had troubled me for much of my life.

The journey wasn’t easy; I battled hypertension, and the fibroids threatened my baby’s growth. But Mireya held on, and on February 2nd, she arrived safely.

Today marks her first full year of life, and I’m beaming with pride! Mireya, meaning “miracle” in Spanish, is a constant reminder of God’s perfect timing. This little soul has brought immense joy to my life, and I’m grateful for every moment.

Happy 1st birthday, my Mireya!

Breaking Free

He was used to abusing me,
Every night, I’d satiate his desire, silently.
But one night, I vowed it would end.
I hid a knife under the pillow, my heart aching to transcend.

Never fighting back, I’d weep,
As he’d threaten to end my life if I’d speak.
But as he groaned in satisfaction, I made my move,
Slowly pulling the knife, I jabbed it through his heart, a wicked groove.

I had to pick up my broken pieces,
He had destroyed my childhood, a heartbreaking release.
I was only 13, and he was my mother’s lover,
A sad truth Mama only discovered after the attempted murder.

He wailed, rolling off me,
I ran to the police, naked, to set me free.
Fortunately, the cut wasn’t too deep,
They locked him up for twelve years, a sentence to keep.

At least I got therapy to heal,
A long, hard journey, but I’m learning to feel.
Free from the chains that bound me tight,
I’m rising up, a survivor, shining with new light.