Short notes, honestly kept.

1. 8 August 2026· Euphoric / Plotting a bakery

   The lángos boerie-roll, and my excited is excited

   I recently posted about attempting to make lángos from Hungary. It is now my favourite bread by a million miles. It could be a vetkoek's skinny cousin — except it doesn't suck up too much oil. In fact you don't fry it in a lot of oil at all.

   So I will tell everyone plainly: I am not South African. Not when it comes to food. I prefer to make my sausage — boerewors — the way the Italians do. Fry it to brown with onions, let the onions caramelise, then add the beef stock and let it all cook through in the oven. The sausage stays plump and juicy, and the gravy is sensational.

   And then this is how I would eat a boerie-roll: on the lángos, with lemony labneh, a simple salad in a chive and lemon oil vinaigrette, and then the sausage on top. Let me tell you, the angels from on-high were singing. OMG. It's glorious.

   I would open a lángos bakery and play around with lots of toppings. Watch this space. My excited is excited.

   

   

   

   

2. 8 August 2026· Flattened / Quietly hopeful

   An avocado pip, three toothpicks, and a whole lot of hope

   

   I'm growing an avocado tree. I say this with the utmost positivity. I love avos — in most salads, if not all of them, with breakfast, whipped into avocado mousse, avocado everything. And they cost roughly a gazillion rand each. It would honestly be cheaper to drive to Limpopo, buy two enormous bags on the side of the road, and drive back.

   So: the pip is in a glass of water, three toothpicks holding it up, the base just kissing the surface. That's my win for the day. I already have two lemon trees, a cherry tree, a peach tree and an olive tree. An avocado tree would be a magnificent addition to the family. Fingers crossed. Wish me luck.

   The rest of the day was less glamorous. I slept through most of it. This flu will end me. I feel absolutely terrible — everything hurts, the sneezing is relentless, and my nose is blood red from blowing it. The coughing has subsided slightly, which I'm choosing to count as progress.

   It was a wonderful day in Jo'burg though. The sun has set now and the cold has come in properly. And there were a LOT of X-Men movies that I slept straight through. I'll try again over the long weekend.

   It's Women's Day on Sunday, and Women's Month in South Africa. We need all of the help and all of the advocacy we can get, because my country does not have a good track record when it comes to men abusing and killing women. It is a real problem, and it deserves to be said plainly, not tucked behind a public holiday.

3. 7 August 2026· Cinephile / Hungry

   One hundred films, and a batch of lángos

   

   I am acutely in love with movies. In my second year at varsity, the Afrikaans man who reviewed films came to our lecture, and that year turned out to be outstanding: we were supposed to watch a hundred movies in twelve months. A hundred. It sounded like homework and it turned out to be an education.

   What I learned is as much about what I don't love as what I do. Film noir is not for me — all that shadow and moral fog and no one to root for. The Sarris rubric, auteur theory and all its scaffolding, is not for me either. I don't want to grade a director's fingerprints. I want to be moved.

   What is for me: X-Men. Batman Begins. Exceptional, both of them. Imagine the viewing pleasure of a protagonist carrying real angst — someone who is powerful and afraid at the same time, who has to choose to be good over and over instead of just being born good. That is the whole thing for me. Give me a hero with a wound and I am there for all three hours.

   And I love Jennifer Lawrence. Blue, scaled, furious Mystique, and then that voice in interviews that sounds like someone you'd actually want at your table. She is unbothered in a way I find deeply enjoyable to watch.

   Meanwhile, God, I am making lángos — Hungarian fried bread. Soft, slack dough left to rise all afternoon, stretched thin by hand, dropped into hot oil until it puffs up gold, then brushed with garlic water and smothered in soured cream and grated cheese. A dedication to Hungarian food, which never once pretended to be polite.

   So: dough rising on the counter, blanket on the sofa, and something with a brooding protagonist on the screen. That is a good day by any measure I still have.

4. 6 August 2026· Death warmed up / Strong in mind

   Bless you — I've got Ntombi's flu

   I've got Ntombi's flu. I'm coughing, my chest burns, I'm sneezing, my temperature is off the charts. I'm exhausted and I've been sleeping all day. Oh Lord, someone please say bless you, because I've been sneezing like nobody's business. I even puked out my tea.

   The problem I have is that I have medically induced liver failure, so antibiotics are off the list of things I can take. My white blood cells are also always low because of my autoimmune issues. I have Sjögren's, antiphospholipid syndrome, lupus and scleroderma. Then add FND, and it's a molotov cocktail.

   So getting sick isn't supposed to happen. I stay indoors a lot precisely to prevent complications, because when I do get ill my body just spirals. My mom came over today to give me ACC 600 and Med Lemon. Nothing else. I pray it doesn't affect my lungs more than it already has, because I do not want to go to hospital.

   I feel like death warmed up, but strong in mind. I'm going to cosy up in a blanket and watch a movie. Yesterday it was When a Man Loves a Woman, with Andy Garcia and Meg Ryan. I had such a crush on Andy Garcia in my teens — he is so suave and sexy.

   I want that big, all-consuming, give-up-anything-for-you kind of love. The never-give-up-on-you, be-sure-of-you kind of love. The Pablo Neruda kind of love. I want it to burn so hot that it obliterates the thought of anyone else but you.

   Even if you are broken like me — am I not deserving of that kind of love?

5. 4 August 2026· The ugly truth

   What was, and what will never be

   Sometimes you live with regret. You mourn. You mourn the loss of your past abilities. You mourn the future you thought you would have. You mourn the lies, the untruths, the mistreatment, the misrepresentation — the fact that you were not believed, and that through it your family was led to believe you were somehow making things up, lying about your symptoms.

   And then there are your own choices. The fact that you start to believe that you are the problem. That you are a burden. Their number one problem and regret. You fall for lies. You hold on too tight to possibilities. You stop trusting yourself and your gut, and through it all you watch yourself deteriorate, and you hate yourself. Because somehow it must be your fault, right? How can it not be your fault? How can it not be something you are making up? And so you hate your very own existence.

   Then people make you feel worse. So much worse. And you want it all to end. You want the earth to suck you up, to suck you in, to take you — because dear God, what else is there to live for. And diagnosis after diagnosis, you get blamed for everything. Every misstep, every fall, every problem created. It is all because of you.

   Even the number of miscarriages. Of which I had twenty-four. Yes — 24. So no, my life has never been a picnic. It has never been easy, and I am the one who had to pick myself up, play-act that things are okay, that somehow life goes on. I am the one who had to accept that I would never be a mother, a sister, a grandmother, an anything.

   And so, in the end, you are nothing. Your existence is for nothing. Your fight is your own, your life is singular, and your memory fades. You will not be remembered. Your accomplishments get consumed by the fact that you have always been sick. And that stinks. There is no real happiness. That is the ugly truth.

   You are not alone — but at the core of it, you are alone. No one can save you. This is the fight of your life. YOUR LIFE.

6. 3 August 2026· Grateful / Humbled

   One year into the best day of my life

   

   Today is a watershed day, for one reason and one reason alone: I am officially one year into the best day of my life. Twelve months ago I met someone who has assisted me in every possible way. Since meeting him, I have put on weight. My desensitisation has disappeared. I have been able to shower, to walk, to exercise — to do pilates, yoga, tai chi.

   Before him, I weighed 36kg. By December 2025, I was up to 49kg. And can I just say: everything has improved. My doctors, and everyone around me, has been confounded. I don't know the how and I don't know the why, but I am grateful. So grateful.

   He is the man in the picture. Twelve months of not-so-easy, but oh-so-beautifully wonderful. I am humbled and grateful to Gio. South Africa and Spain, a match made in the best of ways.

7. 2 August 2026· Emotional / Grateful

   Doc gave me my smile back

   When you have SMA and gastroparesis, your teeth take a beating. The acid, the vomiting, the malnutrition — it all lands in your mouth eventually. I have needed all new crowns, and I now have a full upper zirconia set.

   It has taken a year and a lot of pain, but Doc has been with me through the whole journey. She is kind, and she is the most incredible human being. God brings blessings across your path, and Doc has definitely been a great blessing.

   Doc — thank you for being patient and caring, and most of all understanding. I get truly emotional when I think about all that you have done for me. You have given me my smile and my dignity back. For that I am truly grateful. Eternally blessed and grateful.

   My heart is full, and my future is bright now. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

   

   

8. 2 August 2026· Heavy / Holding on

   Happy, grateful, sad, scared — and newly diagnosed with SMA

   I'm happy and grateful, and I'm sad. I am tired and I'm feeling a little lost. I'm scared and exhausted. It's been a great day and a hard day. I miss you so much.

   I have been diagnosed with SMA — Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome. It's extremely rare and incurable. This will be my forever life, and it's hard. I'm sleeping a lot again, FND is terrible, and my reality is tough. It sucks, and I'm sad.

   SMA is a compression syndrome: the third part of the duodenum gets pinched between the aorta and the superior mesenteric artery, so food and liquid can't pass through properly. It causes severe nausea, vomiting, bloating, pain after eating, and malnutrition. It's sometimes called Wilkie's syndrome, and it is as rare as it is brutal.

   Another diagnosis. Another thing to learn. Another forever thing layered on top of FND, gastroparesis, dystonia, dysphasia and the rest. I don't have the words to make it sound brave tonight. I just have the truth: I am scared, I am grieving, and I am still here.

   If you are reading this and you also have SMA, or you suspect you do: push for imaging. A CT or MRI with contrast can show the narrowed angle. Find a team that knows motility disorders. And please don't let anyone tell you that rare means imaginary.

9. 1 August 2026· Exhausted / Defiant

   Every time I close my eyes — the negotiator

   Dedication: Every time I close my eyes, by Babyface. That is the soundtrack this morning.

   The self-doubt and self-loathing that come with FND are relentless. No matter how much progress you make, there are just some times — some events, some blackouts — that leave you bruising ribs, cracking an elbow, and growing the biggest bump on your forehead. Then you get cross-questioned: how did it happen? And you don't know. You simply do not know.

   This week I have lost hours. I have absolutely no clue what happened last Saturday, but thank God I'm alive. I am exhausted and sleeping too much again — too much. I get so frustrated with myself. My body is holding me hostage.

   I feel like Samuel L. Jackson in The Negotiator. Where the hell is Kevin Spacey when you need him? All of my Kevin Spaceys are busy or fighting their own life struggles, so in fact I feel alone and isolated. It kills me.

   But today is meant to be spectacular. So I am going to dress up for it, swagger into the dentist, and complete a year-long journey. I am going to take more Lyrica, walk in ready to get this done, and get ready for Spain.

10. 31 July 2026· Terrified / Determined

    Plummeted — but still fighting

    Somewhere between last Saturday and today my health has plummeted. The bruising from where I fell is terrible, and I honestly feel like I have cracked a rib or two. The pain is unbelievable, breathing hurts. Really hurts. My back is in pain, my right sole is constantly in spasm, and I honestly cannot believe the rest of the pain.

    I'm sleeping A LOT. Awake one minute and then lights out, dead sleep — funeral style. I feel like I'm losing days, not remembering what I've done. OMG, if breathing was easier, it would help, but this is the thing with FND. One day you are good and then the next few days, you feel like you are losing the battle.

    I walked for the first time yesterday. It wasn't too bad; we took it slow and took Sarah Jessica to the vet for a pedi. She did so well — better than me, in truth. We did Tai Chi as well, which I haven't done for a good few days. I will definitely try again today. I can't just give up, but also, I cannot overdo it.

    It scares me how terrible the pain is. It scares me that I am sleeping so much. It scares me that I am losing weight again. The gastroparesis is kicking my butt seven ways to Sunday. If only breathing would be easier. Oh wow, I am struggling. Please, I cannot reverse this badly. Keep going, Cassandra. Just fight. Don't give up.

11. 30 July 2026· Ranting / Amused

    Pet peeve Wednesday

    Pet peeve Wednesday — people who smell their food before taking a bite. WHY? Are you a sniffer dog? Seriously, have you missed your calling? Can't you smell it when it comes to the table? Have you lost the sense of smell altogether that you have to bring the ENTIRE PLATE TO YOUR NOSTRILS?

    This cannot possibly be normal. It's not normal! It's right up there with people who slurp their soup or hot drinks, people who chew loudly, gulping drinks. WHY? Lord, WHY? I just can't. It drives me mental!

12. 29 July 2026· Grateful / Making magic

    Seven million and two lemons

    

    I have seven million and two lemons. Two lemon trees, and the yield is insane. This is what happens when I'm asleep, while I'm getting lost in FND — the garden keeps working. Now I have a myriad of lemons and I want to make magic with them.

    Today is lemon curd day. I'm doing a lemon and mint curd — the mint is steeped in warm juice for ten minutes then strained out, so it's a whisper, not a swamp. Ntombi and Happy will try it tomorrow. I don't have a sweet tooth, so they are my testers. It's always lovely to watch, because their diets and the food they grew up on are so vastly different from what I put in front of them. As my testers, they get the best of the best.

    I might just make a lemon and mint meringue pie with the rest of the curd. The crust is the whole point of a lemon meringue pie — blind-baked properly, sealed with egg white while it's still hot, no soggy betrayals. A soggy base is a betrayal.

    My KitchenAid is broken. I need to get it serviced — I'll chuck the coffee machine in too, that's a KitchenAid as well. And I want to start a herb garden, because I rip through herbs like there is no tomorrow. Not since my first Jamie Oliver book have I used dried herbs. Fresh herbs are where it is at.

    

13. 28 July 2026· Frightened / In pain

    Concussion, bruised ribs, and a weekend I cannot account for

    

    Concussion. My ribs and elbow are bruised. I am still unsure of what happened this last weekend. The pain is excruciating, and I think that is what is so scary — when all you are left with is bruises and pain, but you don't know how you got there.

    I just don't know where I fell, how I fell, how I fell. I am still sleeping like crazy. I rose from my deep sleep yesterday at 14h00. I still can't remember conversations. I know that I cried, but who with, I have no idea.

    It's scary. When life is a blur, it scares me. I can't even tell you what happened before or after. The weekend has been erased, and my body is the only witness left.

14. 27 July 2026· Scared / Disoriented

    Woken at 14:30, bruised and blank

    

    I have been so sick. I woke up at 14:30 this afternoon. I have bruises everywhere, I knocked my head, and I can't remember anything. OMG it's so scary.

    The day is half over before I even arrive in it. My body looks like a map of places I don't remember hitting. And my head — the one thing I need to think, to write, to make sense of any of this — feels like it belongs to someone else.

    This is the part I hate most: not the pain, not the bruises, but the blank. The not-knowing. The fear that pieces of my life are being erased while I'm still inside them.

15. 26 July 2026· Scared / Small comfort

    I fell, and yesterday is gone

    

    I fell. Knocked my head, bruised my ribs and practically cracked my elbow. Yesterday is a complete blur. In fact, not so much of a blur as opposed to completely dead to me. I remember NOTHING.

    I've watched The Devil Wears Prada 2 — this is the third time. Dear God, will I remember any of it? I'm frustrated, I'm scared, I feel helpless and hopeless.

    I bought a quilt today. It's beautiful. I love it. That's about it. I have nothing else to say. I'm scared. I'm truly scared.

16. 25 July 2026· Resolute / Quietly fierce

    The optics, and choosing myself anyway

    The optics. Everyone is always so preoccupied with how things will look to the outside world. If you decide to quit or change routes or change doctors or stop certain medications, it's always the optics.

    I've come to the epicentre of my life and I only have room for me right now. I don't have time for lies or passengers or to teach people how to love and accept me for me. Choosing yourself is not a sin, you know — on the contrary, it's why you are here.

    I can't and won't be made to feel like a burden, or for pity to be bestowed upon me because, 'oh shame, look at the poor sick girl'. There will always be mountains to climb, valleys to sit in, but in those peaks and troughs — between the lashes and the makeup — is a human being just fighting for legitimacy.

    I'm not here to impede others. I am here to run my race, to live authentically within the means that I have been given. Walking away from what no longer serves you or brings you joy — that is your right, the same as it is for everyone else.

    The road less travelled by may be dark and lonely, but find the peace and the joy on that journey, because it is one hundred percent your own.

17. 22 July 2026· Tired / In awe

    Precision, Socrati red boots, and Churchill's first frame

    

    Today was a whirlwind of emotions, and I am seriously tired — but I saw this today. The men working at the shopping centre, and look at how amazing they are. I looked on in awe. The way they had the precision down pat — the rhythm, the timing, the quiet skill of it. I mean.

    South Africans are dynamic, amazing and just incredible. I love this so much. I love this country. I love the way ordinary people do extraordinary things and don't ask anyone to clap.

    Today's outfit is inspired by me wanting to dress up despite the pain. I love the cream leather leggings — one clean line, easy to move in, dressed up by everything else. But the boots are what matter. Socrati. Thank you and thank you again.

    I've had these boots since 2017. They are just next-level. The colour is not quite ox-blood, but it's definitely a show-off and show-up piece. A wonderful addition to my lexicon of fashion and Brazilian boots. J'adore again — soft and beautiful — so why not.

    There is a lot happening this month, and I am so looking forward to it, especially with the early spring surprise. And this is also the first time that Churchill made it into my picture — hence the smile.

    

18. 21 July 2026· Frustrated / Fierce

    My hands don't work — and the Mont Blanc still hurts like a mother

    

    My hands don't work. That is one of the crazy things about FND. They hurt. I can't cut my vegetables or meat — or anything. I love cooking, and honestly, I cut myself, I stab myself, and it is painful.

    The pain in my palms, the fact that my fingers don't work, it pains me. I remember when I couldn't even hold a pen. Just because I can hold my Mont Blanc pen now doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt like a mother when I am writing.

    I mess on myself and look like a toddler after I've eaten, because holding a knife and fork — things that get taken for granted — is not guaranteed. My occupational therapist and physios have worked so hard on getting me to overcome the fear and push through the stupid pain to reclaim my life.

    Honestly, it's the climb. It's always a climb. But I am climbing.

19. 20 July 2026· Delighted / Relieved

    ¡Campeones! Spain, a vervet monkey, and a good, good day

    

    Guess who won the FIFA World Cup 2026!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am so delighted. If I had my own nails, I would have chewed them off. So good to have won.

    Happy to report that a lot went right today — which, in and of itself, is a blessing. I am so relieved that life is taking a turn. The corner has been long and treacherous, and today felt like actual daylight around the bend.

    Also — I saw a monkey on our way to Home Affairs. A whole monkey, in a residential area. Who keeps a monkey in Jo'burg?! Bizarre. It was a vervet monkey, normally found in Durban, KZN — not Jo'burg. I did a double take. So did the monkey.

    I am evolving. I am cooking again. I do it to show my love, but also as a source of relaxation. There is something about the peel of an onion, the sizzle of butter, the quiet of a warm kitchen, that puts my whole nervous system back where it belongs.

    If I am not reading my cookbooks, then I am reading my magazines. The ones I collect are BBC Good Food and Woolworths Taste, and my absolute best is Food and Home South Africa. I also use @Allrecipes.com and @Epicurious. These are my bibles when it comes to trying new recipes. Check out the apps — they are so good.

    Perfect Sunday-into-Monday: Spain lifting the trophy, a rogue vervet monkey in the suburbs, a warm kitchen, and a stack of magazines beside me. ¡Campeones! ¡Vámonos!

    

    

    

20. 19 July 2026· Honest / Reaching back

    Gastroparesis, the not-so-silent killer

    

    I have found out so much about gastroparesis by following the Instagram handle @gastroparesisawareness2024. If you get a chance, if you feel alone with this condition, there are so many of us now who can share and understand.

    Lead with kindness, able-bodied humans. This is the one that almost killed me in 2023. Of all the FND or FND-adjacent symptoms, this is the not-so-silent killer. It robs you of your heart and soul, of your nutrients, of your body.

    Please share your story. You never know who it may help. And I hope that I am helping someone out there.

    If this is you — if your stomach has forgotten how to be a stomach — please know you are not going crazy, and you are not alone.

21. 19 July 2026· Glorious / Sun-drunk

    Viva España, a fresh face, and the hawk in the jacaranda

    

    It's Sunday, and that means full makeup — but never caked on. I prefer looking fresh-faced. A little skin still visible under the liner and the lash.

    Today I am screaming so loudly for Spain in the final of the FIFA World Cup. I don't want to capitulate before the whistle, but I reckon I win no matter the result. My private tutor is Spanish, everywhere I turn there is a mention of Spain. ¡Viva España!

    Today's perfume is Chanel Coco Mademoiselle Intense — so soft and beautiful, warm on the wrist without ever shouting.

    By the way — we have had five days of winter, and we are seemingly 100% into spring. The weather is glorious. There is also this wonderful phenomenon that pollinates the whole of Gauteng, known as the 'August winds' — acorns are blown around, all sorts of plants and trees, new ones germinate from this. But it is July, and on our walks there are already trees with new leaves. Incredible.

    Yesterday there was a hawk in the jacaranda tree in the neighbour's yard. I hadn't seen it for a good few years, and then, as I sat in my bedroom, the bird with the beautiful yellow beak was back.

    Johannesburg has the largest man-made forest in the world. The whole city is beautiful — blue skies, and a sunset that is properly special. I hail from the most glorious country in the world. If you'd like to prove me wrong, please visit. South Africa is special. Great people, and everything that is exquisite about Africa and about all the nations who have moved here and made it their home too.

    Perfume of the day: Chanel Coco Mademoiselle Intense.

    

    

    

22. 18 July 2026· Unbowed / Fierce

    Count me out at your peril

    

    Finding the strength to overcome — that is a daily dedication. The daily grind and push to do the things that healthy people take for granted. One thing I know for sure: you cannot do this without an incredible mindset and the will to do the impossible every day.

    People see me walking. Walking in heels, no less. They see me dressing up and doing my makeup, and from the outside it is a mirage. The truth is that on the inside there is a raging bull — a person thirsting for the life they once had, wishing for it, praying for it, begging for it.

    But looking back is lovely, and it will trip you up. It will be the reason you cry and beg for forgiveness for sins you never committed, in the hope that the nasty dream that is your reality would be just that — a dream. But it's not. And without healthy relationships and an outlet to pour out your heart to a neutral person who can guide you, you feel less like a fighter and more like a burden.

    If truth be told, fighting is all there is to do. Because if you stop, you will regress. You will deplete your journey. FND will not kill you physically, but mentally it will kick you in the gut, punch you in the throat, and ask you to thank it for the pleasure. FND is a narcissist. It will mentally collapse you if you let it.

    My stubbornness, my team, and those who love me will drive me forward — catapult me into the future I can still have. The story is a little different now, but it is a story of inspiration, of someone who, with admiration, gives it her all.

    Count me out, at your peril. FND is not my story; my fight is. I am strong in will and in mind. I will breathe through the pain and fight like crazy to make myself proud every day.

    

23. 16 July 2026· Spring-confused / Lighter

    The 4am club, a foreman, and 'eish' hair

    

    Today, is it spring or what? On our walks we've seen budding trees — but what kind of spring weather is this in July? It's crazy. Woke up at 4am (does this make me part of the 4am club?), and walked 5.5km's.

    On the walk, there were workers digging a trench. I got tons of kisses blown at me, and I blew some back (wrong move). The foreman ran after me, wanting to hug me — I ran! Not Usain Bolt or anything, but full Trevor Noah "bite me… don't bite me!" VERNACULA!

    Then home for tai chi (why so many squats?!), pilates and stretch — a much better day today. But I feel like the woman from The Ring when we do yoga, because my hair — eish! The wall-sitting in pilates kills me every time. And namaste, everyone.

    Then the look: winter/spring weather confusion, and pencil high-ankle boots. The perfume is CK One Essence — Lord have mercy, it is fresh and vibrant.

    

    

24. 15 July 2026· Tired but hopeful

    Supporting England, bubbling lava, and a little reprieve

    

    I look completely miserable, but it's from a lack of sleep watching my newly adopted country Spain make it to the final of the FIFA World Cup. Viva España! And today I am supporting England — my nod to part of my heritage. I lived in England and I still hold it dear to my heart. Also: justice for Sir David Beckham!

    I slept well, and the excruciating pain that started last weekend has finally subsided a bit. Just enough for me to complete my walk, do yoga stretches, pilates and tai chi. It's intense, the workout, but it's only about 15 minutes and therefore manageable. It's amazing to have a little bit of reprieve from the murderous pain.

    So, in short: fingers crossed for England, and the hope and prayer that the intensity of the chronic pain will remain like bubbling lava as opposed to blowing its top off ala Mount Vesuvius.

25. 13 July 2026· Reflective / Unbowed

    Start again from where I left off

    Sometimes, I look back on my life and what I was able to achieve, and I wonder how on earth I got here. I prefer to look back and remember the wins and the achievements, the good times. I can't dwell on what will not get me to move forward and carve out a life that has meaning and that I can love.

    I'm truly sad today. But I will wake up tomorrow and start again from where I left off. #wemove #alutacontinua #don'tgiveup — until my last breath, I will do more and make my dreams come true. Even if I have to get my body there kicking and screaming.

26. 12 July 2026· Diabolical / Still standing

    Daenerys, dragonfire, and the Night King of stretches

    

    Daenerys Targaryen — the fine balance of taming the dragon and having the dragon blast you with fire. Today was one of those days where the pain was just too much.

    The 4km walk was okay until about the last 200 metres. Honestly, the shooting fireball of pain from the base of my spine down into my left hip — I truly thought I was going to collapse right there on the pavement.

    Then, because I know my determination will falter the second I sit down, we went straight into 17 minutes of tai chi. If only you could be a fly on the wall of that unfinished room: the cruel grunting, the leaning against the wall after every move, the negotiations with gravity. I was as flat as my little English bulldog Stretford — named after the famous Stretford End at Manchester United, my first love.

    After almost falling and fainting and just giving up, I did wall pilates — which is a monster all on its own. But we pushed through. The final 17 minutes of stretch is the real monster. Like the Night King of the undead in Game of Thrones — silent, patient, and coming for everything you have left.

    I could not get up after we finished. Ntombi had to lift me up off the floor. A diabolical day of pain is what I feel is ahead.

    What healthy, able-bodied people cannot fathom is the excruciating pain that chronic pain causes. It overtakes you at some point in the day. Always there. Catching up on any will and determination you thought you had banked.

    I hear myself whisper: "be gentle and kind to yourself for the rest of the day, Cassandra." I hope I heed that whisper — and enter the rest of my day with kindness, and the will to keep fighting despite my ever-present pain.

    

    

    

    

27. 11 July 2026· Raw / Praying for rest

    The night of the long knives

    I have been invaded by a tsunami of pain. It feels like my brain is invading every part of me — muscle, sinew and bone. Everything hurts. Everything.

    People look at the pictures and think, hey, she must be having the time of her life. Um, quite the opposite. Every picture is a moment in time, a wish, a hope for reprieve. I hope for a gentle day and a restful sleep. But no.

    Last night, I passed out cold. Then the pain travelled down my spine, into my joints, and everything started hurting. Everything felt like an impossible life. How could it end like this, yet again? Another night where I was either wrapped in pain or having seizures — yes, multiples. Muscles pulling and cramping. The crying. The absolute sobbing. My cries to God for help, to stop the pain somehow.

    I called my mom at 1:30 am. I just couldn't bear the burden on my own. I was desperate to try and get my brain on something other than mock-killing me. My steely determination wavers so much when I have such catastrophic nights.

    I need to sleep. I'm desperate for some rest, for some space, so that I can summon the strength to get up and go to the dentist. I just pray that I don't have another seizure in the dentist chair.

    Please keep me in your prayers.

28. 10 July 2026· Determined

    Whitney, talons, and my sherpa Ntombi

    

    I woke this morning with vigour and determination, listening to Whitney Houston sing that she didn't know her own strength. That line means so much more when you are in chronic pain and living inside a body that is failing a determined mind.

    I climb Everest to K2 every single day. With my talons, I grab hold of the earth and drag myself through the day. Ntombi is my sherpa. Together we move — yoga, pilates, tai chi — and every new position, every new pose, spikes the pain.

    But it is crystal clear to me: if I do not do this, I will slump into an abyss. My brain will keep misfiring and sending diabolical pain to my entire body, and I will have nothing to fight it with. My feet are the worst — when I sit, they curl in and pull into a permanent spasm. So I walk on my pins-and-needles feet, in the hope that one day it won't hurt as much.

    I must say — my motivation, my stubborn determination to overcome, is far stronger than the pain. It has to be. I can't and won't return to nothingness. That black hole is a dangerous place, and I can attest first hand how bad it gets when you feel worthless, like a burden. I am not going back there.

    The two prints in this picture matter to me. On the right is the Winged Victory of Samothrace — Nike. She was an inspiration to me as a child, when I ran track: wings out, head lifted, moving forward even without a face. She is what winning looks like when you're too tired to smile about it.

    On the left is Caravaggio's Conversion of Saint Paul — Saul on the ground, the horse enormous above him, the world tilted, the light doing all the work. It is one of the most powerful paintings I know. I too met God along the way, and that is when my life truly changed. Every day since has been a quieter version of that same falling-and-then-getting-up.

    So: Nike behind me, Caravaggio beside me, Whitney in my ears, Ntombi at my feet. Onwards.

29. 9 July 2026· Tender-fierce

    Blue skies, budding trees, and three seizures I did not order

    

    Jo'burg in winter can be deceptively bizarre — the blue skies and the sun make you think it must be hot outside. Luckily today the high is 21°C. At night it plummets and you're back to winter, hands wrapped around a mug, feet under the dog.

    To improve my walking, I walk with Ntombi five days a week. 5km's is a short one; the longer routes push closer to 7. On one of our routes the trees are budding — I know it's global warming, but the dichotomy is beautiful and terrible at once: the quintessential new life and the death of the old, side by side on the same pavement.

    Today has been particularly tough. I had three functional seizures overnight. When you add stress to the Molotov cocktail that is FND, it settles in with glee — you are uncontrollably shaking, clenching, every muscle pulling, and you are 100% aware of it. Pain shoots through every nerve and sinew. And then I cry. The ugly cry. The one that dislodges waterproof lashes. It's an insanity that, sadly, most people never see or experience. When you are in that fight, it's a fight to the death — or to exhaustion, and more pain, for me.

    Because of this horror story, I am determined to live a good life. Who cares — tomorrow could be my funeral. So today I dance and have fun. I eat what I like, despite the gastroparesis holding me hostage. I am convinced my body hates me some days.

    I did yoga stretches and tai chi anyway. My balance and dexterity are awful right now. I am falling all over the place, but I push through, in the hope that one day I'll do it all again and be proud of myself once more.

    If you know me personally — or you're only just meeting me through this entry — I hope you can tell there is someone in here fighting hard to reclaim her old self. Please be kind, and please do not disturb my peace. Please, and thank you.

30. 8 July 2026· Fierce

    Tai chi, 7km, and Bongi's undying love

    Tai chi — who knew it would be like one million and ten squats?! I am not that great with dexterity, and balance is still such a problem, but oh my god do you squat for your life. My thighs are stiff and tired. I push through the pain anyway.

    I walked 7km's today. Started a Beachbody challenge. Then tai chi, then yoga stretches. Pushing through chronic pain no one could even conceive of. But I do it because what I can change, I will change. What I can't change, I will not make my master.

    And then — the litany of whistles and cat-calls. Bongi actually stopped and introduced himself to Ntombi and me, and pledged his undying love for the both of us. My poor boyfriend is going to have a coronary when he hears. I laughed the whole way home. Jo'burg, you are a lot.

    Sore. Stiff. Smug. A good day.

31. 7 July 2026· Sunlit

    Lasagna, roses, and a lovely day

    I've decided to make lasagna, and — of course — I've made the pasta dough from scratch. I swear I've been kneading for what felt like an hour (a small exaggeration). My hands are not what they were before. It hurts like a mother.

    I remember when this started, I couldn't hold a pen. My chopping is still awful — the knife and I are in ongoing negotiations — but I push through the pain. Sheet by sheet, the pasta gets rolled. Slowly. Stubbornly. Mine.

    Ntombi and I walked to my favourite food store this morning. One of the men loading the shelves stopped, looked at me, and said — I quote — "your beauty is appreciated." I went completely shy. He handed me two beautiful bunches of roses. Madness. But the good kind.

    We walked home in the sun. The cold madness of last night is gone; Jo'burg has turned on the blue skies and put out the good light. Then Ntombi and I did yoga and Pilates on the mat. We usually add tai chi but the walk was long today, and the body had already said its piece.

    Right now Bill Withers is on — "Lovely Day" — and I am so, so distracted. Dancing between the stove and the counter. Hands sore, heart full, roses on the table, lasagna in the oven soon. It's a lovely day.

32. 6 July 2026· Defiant

    5:15am, Rapture, and a migraine that won't quit

    

    It's 5:15am and I have Rapture by Black Coffee on. This song is so beautiful. Black Coffee is a GOAT — making South Africans proud. It's never too early for dance music. Dancing is liberating for me, and in that moment I feel like I can fly.

    So, let me be honest: I've woken with that migraine that won't quit, and the pain — I can't sit, I can't stand, I can't lie down. No position offers relief. So I'm not going to wait for it. I will walk. I will do pilates. Tai chi. Yoga stretches. I'm going to push past the pain, and I am resolved not to make pain my master.

    I am the master of my soul, my heart and my body. I can't sit still — I have to at least fix the things I can, and make peace with the things I can't change.

    Attached is my favourite picture of me, sitting on the Azure Window on Gozo Island. Sadly, the window is no more — but the aviators are fierce.

33. 5 July 2026· Tender

    The day I forgot how to spell 'and'

    I put music on blast and dance while I'm cooking, shaking what my Mama gave me. My life has been coloured by music. We always had music playing at home when I was a pre-teen, and music still reminds me of happier times — of moments when, no matter how anxious I felt, a song would soothe me.

    I can remember exactly where I was, what I was wearing, even the shadows the sun cast through the trees. When I first fell in love, I sang to him on the lawn of my varsity while the campus radio played KC and JoJo. (Let me premise this by stating clearly: I am tone deaf. 😂😂😂😂) But my current person always wants me to sing to him, and I end up butchering Teddy Swims, or Whitney.

    The discography of my life spans big band — Glenn Miller, Satchmo — to Gladys Knight and the Pips, to Michael Jackson, who I was obsessed with. When Michael's hair burnt, I cried like it had happened to me. My teen years were grunge, Faithless, Janet Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Tupac. Lately it's H.E.R. and Teddy Swims on repeat.

    The fact that I can remember all of this is, honestly, remarkable. Because when I was in hospital, there was a day I was so confused I had forgotten how to spell the word "and". It made me sob. I had majored in English. I read prodigiously. And I could not remember something so rudimental. It broke me. I had not imagined how brain fog would beset me.

    Brain fog is one of the pillars of FND, and it had me in its grip — and held on so tightly. I have worked hard with my team to regain what was lost. I used to read a recipe or a line in a book what felt like 500 times; I just couldn't retain anything. It was frustrating and heart-wrenching. Sometimes I couldn't even cry, because I was so numb.

    So today, when the kitchen is loud and Whitney is winning and I remember every lyric — that is a small, private miracle. I dance for the version of me who couldn't spell 'and'. She is still in here. She is doing better.

34. 4 July 2026· Fierce

    For the four-year-old in the sunhat

    

    Never deny yourself the opportunity to live a beautiful life — a life that is full of your hopes and dreams for yourself.

    I have this picture of myself as a four-year-old, and I speak to her while I'm doing my make-up. I say: today, we will make us proud.

    So I push. Every day. Every single day, to make that little girl — so innocent, but already wanting more — proud of who I have become. I do it for us.

    And every person in my life knows, or needs to know: you have to earn me. I know what's in my picnic basket. I know what I bring to the table. I will not settle for less than I know I deserve.

    Look at the pose. The fierce stare. I always knew I would be a gladiator in a suit. Or — no, not maybe — I wanted to be Olivia Pope. I still do. And on my best days, I am.

35. 3 July 2026· Defiant

    Pushing through the pain

    There is nothing like it — when your body feels under attack. I had desensitisation once where my whole body was 100% always on fire. No one could touch me. Not a hand on my arm, not a sheet on my leg. Every day was more painful than the one before it — until, honestly, I prayed for death. I just wanted the pain to stop. It was too hard.

    But I have learned something the hard way: if I give in to the pain, then that is all I will have. Just the pain. Nothing else gets a look-in.

    So I push. I push hard. I do the impossible in the small hope of relief — a walk, a shower, one honest task done. Sometimes the relief comes. Sometimes it doesn't, and I push anyway, because the pushing is its own answer to the pain: I am still here, still choosing, still mine.

    If you feel the same — the fire, the exhaustion, the quiet negotiations with your own body — let me know. We are not alone in this, even when the room is very quiet.

36. 3 July 2026· Sore

    Breathing through it

    Woke up in a lot of pain. It's freezing in Johannesburg today, and the cold always dials the pain up to completely unbearable. My joints feel like glass; my back is a fist.

    The medication is proving no relief. I've taken all of my meds — nothing forgotten, nothing skipped — so that isn't a factor. This is just one of those mornings the body refuses to be reasoned with.

    So I'm breathing through it. Slow in, slower out. Kettle on. Blanket. Sarah Jessica has assigned herself to my lap. Sometimes the whole plan for the day is: keep breathing until the next hour is kinder than this one.

37. 1 July 2026· Hopeful

    A gentle start

    Opened the journal today because so much of this site is essays and lists — but not every day earns an essay. Some days are just a sentence.

    Walked with Ntombi at 6am. The light was that pale winter-Joburg gold that makes the garden look French. Coffee after. Nothing spasmed. A quiet win.

38. 24 June 2026· Content

    Cacio e pepe kind of night

    Made cacio e pepe for one. Cooled the pasta water. Whisked slowly. It behaved.

    Watched the light move across the New York wall. Sarah Jessica curled at my feet. This is the version of me I fought for.

39. 12 June 2026· Tender

    The lie of 'I'm fine'

    Cancelled two things. Felt the old guilt rise. Reminded myself: the body sets the pace, not the diary.

    Baked camembert, crusty bread, one glass of Chablis. Small rituals are still rituals.

40. 3 August 2025· Grateful

    The turn

    The date I mark as the turn. Not a cure — a corner. From that day forward my body started to trust me back, in inches.

    Writing it down so I never lose the date. #G14

More entries as the days ask to be written down.