Finding my self and my place (again)

It’s 21:53 on a Friday evening, Human Rights Day in South Africa. I lie in bed, back on the farm where I used to live, surrounded by the sounds of the night.

My mind is racing with thoughts, and my veins are alive with feelings.

Last Saturday, I took myself out on a date. I used to do that often, especially before becoming a mother. I remember one particular date when I took myself out for coffee and a sandwich at House of Coffees—a place similar to the warm, homely Mugg & Bean we love in South Africa. At the time, I worked at Identity, a clothing store in the Vaal Mall in Vanderbijlpark. I was lucky to be part of the first crew when the mall was built. We watched everything come together—from construction to store fittings—until it finally opened and ran as usual.

On that particular date, I felt grateful for who I was. I felt grateful to work, to be capable, healthy, and creative. I brought along my journal, writing little notes, to-do lists (what else?), and mapping out my dreams. But most of all, I was grateful for breathing space. In those quiet moments alone, through writing, I found an indescribable peace in knowing and discovering myself.

It was just me, my pen, and the power between the lines.

That was also a time before my first suicide attempt—a period marked by a rollercoaster of emotions, illusions, and blurred timelines, an inner chaos I struggled to navigate. I didn’t realize then that writing was the only way I could process and grasp some understanding of what was happening in my life. But I was often too busy to write—much like these days, when the business of being busy can be misleading.

Lately, I’ve been trying to listen more—to the signals my body and instincts send me so clearly. Many of us override these signals, shaped by habit, conditioning, or trauma. But learning to listen again takes time, effort, and honoring the quiet moments filled with messages from within.

A few days ago, I posted on my blogger Facebook page about my scalp psoriasis returning—a true signal that I needed my own attention. I decided I wanted my own time, my own attention, my own choices, and my own adoration. No compromise. I was yearning to reconnect with this Yvette again.

I also realized that I was posting on Facebook out of convenience, but my words and experiences deserved their own dedicated space. One of my friends, Lenina Rassool—journalist, former producer of The Womxn Show on Cape Town TV—recently launched Feminist Media with her friend Ashiko Sato, along with her own blog and website. It got me thinking about taking up space, owning my voice, and creating my own platform. (Thank you, friend, for showing up as you have!)

I kept my date simple. I wanted to fulfill a long-standing wish and visit a local restaurant on a nearby farm. It was meant to be a solo date, but it turned into a group visit. To my surprise, the hosts arranged for all guests to sit at the same table—much like a dinner party. I hadn’t known that was the concept, but I opted in!

I didn’t get the solitude I had planned, but the greatest gift was following through on the desire—fulfilling a very real need.

It felt so good—even though life is challenging in many ways—to say, I want this for myself, and then to give it to myself.

For so many years, I had different desires and wishes, big and small, and expected them to be fulfilled by others. I’d feel guilty for wanting things—like traveling or seeing new places—especially when Darryl, at the time, didn’t share the same desire. I’d sit with deep resentment instead of just going and doing it myself. I wanted him to want to do it. That expectation was unfair, and it became an unnecessary source of tension between us.

During a meditation program I’ve been doing, one of the prompts was about desire—our wishes and dreams—and the guilt or shame we sometimes feel for wanting what we want. There’s a larger conversation to be had about how society conditions us—especially as women and men—to suppress our desires in order to conform. But through working with the prompts, and yes, through writing, I’ve been confronted with the need to own my desires and take responsibility for fulfilling them.

Taking responsibility isn’t just about the financial cost—it’s also about dealing with the reactions of others. If you fear being labeled as selfish or irresponsible—especially as a mother or within other roles—your own needs often get pushed to the bottom of the list.

For a long time, I chose safety—pleasing the fears—but I’ve come to see, and now feel through experience, that nothing compares to the reality of actually fulfilling a wish.

This stage of my life feels like a return—a revisiting of moments where I had to make choices that led me to new places, both physically and within myself. Now, I’m being called to make brave choices for me. I feel lucky, though, because even when I get it wrong, life is a spiral—every moment is an opportunity to choose again, despite external reactions or my own fears seeking validation.

I’m learning that I am allowed to cheer for myself. To validate my own needs and desires as much as I do for others.

I’m learning that my needs and wishes are not dirty, wrong, or selfish.

I’m learning that the responsibility, power, and pleasure of fulfilling them are all mine to claim.

So, where do I find myself today?

Here, on this Substack—reflecting at the end of a powerful week. Tomorrow, I’ll be supporting my youngest boys at their tug-of-war tournament in Mossel Bay.

What an incredible life to still live after all these years, despite the intensity and complexity of this transition.

I’ve included some pictures from my date night at Elsa se Eetplek in Ladismith, WC.

I hope to see you again online soon. (Or in person at the studio!)

— Yve