I promised myself this post would be honest.
Not pretty. Not polished. Just us.
So here it is — the part of the journey where survival feels heavier than hope.
Some days, the fight feels endless. The weight of survival presses on our shoulders, and no matter how hard we push, the ground beneath us doesn’t seem to give way to solid footing. I wonder why we keep fighting. Why we keep pushing against the tide when it feels like the tide always wins.
Keeping our little business alive takes every ounce of energy, every bit of grit we can muster. Every day we pour ourselves into it — our time, our energy — and yet the reward feels so small compared to the effort. The numbers don’t add up, the efforts don’t bring results, and the exhaustion sets in deeper than before. It feels like we’re running on fumes, pushing so hard and still getting nowhere. We work, we try, we give it all… and at the end of the day, it’s just not enough.
For Danie, health is an unrelenting battle. It’s not something that gets put on pause while we try to focus on building a future — it walks with us, shadows us, and forces us to face limitations we didn’t ask for. It’s every day. I hate seeing him like that. I hate how helpless it makes me feel. Some days better, some days worse, but always there. And sometimes, when I see what he goes through, I wonder if it’s even fair to keep pushing for more. And yet we still wake up the next morning and do it all over again.
And as much as we cling to strength, there are moments when it feels like the universe has extended nothing but a cruel middle finger.
Our children and only grandchild are far away, living their lives in another country, and the distance only seems to stretch wider with each passing year. The ache of missing them is woven into every day, every milestone we can’t share in person, every moment of joy and struggle that’s lived apart. We miss out on the small things, the big things, all the in-betweens. Christmases, birthdays, braai's, celebrations, milestones, holidays, outings, being grandparents! It’s years of moments we can’t get back. The distance feels bigger than the physical space between us. I try to remind myself that love stretches across oceans, but some days the ache of missing them is louder than the reminder. Family is supposed to be an anchor, but instead it feels like we’re drifting farther from shore.
So is it worth it? Is all this struggle worth the endless cycle of pushing and falling, building and breaking, hoping and doubting?
The truth is — I don’t always know. Some days the thought of giving up feels like the easiest option, the only option. But then, something small catches my eye. A kind word from someone who believes in us. A stranger who finds comfort in the products we’ve poured our hearts into. A smile from Danie on a good day. A memory of my granddaughter’s laugh sneaks in when I least expect it. I imagine that I can still feel those special cuddles. I can still hear the sound of laughter with our children, reminding me that love doesn’t fade with distance.
Maybe the universe isn’t against us after all. Maybe it’s daring us to find strength in the cracks, to cling to the tiny fragments of good when the big picture feels overwhelming. Maybe survival isn’t just about holding onto the business or pushing through illness, but about finding meaning in the little things that still breathe life into our weary souls.
I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: giving up might feel tempting, but hope — fragile as it may be — is still here.
I don’t have a plan that guarantees this fight will all be worth it. What I do have is this: a tiny, barely detectable little spark inside me which won't be ignored.
It’s not that I’m hopeful. Not in some big, inspirational way. It’s just… there’s something inside me. Stubborn as hell. Refusing to die. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s madness. Maybe both.
Right now, it’s the only reason I’ll get up tomorrow and try again. Maybe tomorrow we’ll find more hope. Maybe not. But right now, this is our truth. And for now, it will have to be enough.
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