A note on moving on

Hello, it’s been a while…

If you know me you will no that I’m adopted and I’m forever trying to find roots, an If you didn’t know well now you do. I was adopted from Lusaka, Zambia when I was around 7 months old and moved to Cape Town when I was 1. My home became my strongest root for 24 years it was my sanctuary and a safe place to return to always. 


Moving out is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I felt so homeless and felt bad for even saying that because there are people who are actually homeless. Many times during this move I felt like I was dying and that felt so dramatic too but you see, memories live forever in our cells. When you put a child in a box and leave them that surely must have felt like dying too, so this move triggered early cellular memories I didn’t even know were there until my “root” got taken away from me. 

So the first part of this year I’ve been working hard on myself, strengthening and holding my inner child with as much grace as possible. I'm finding my way back slowly…