Hello, Companionship
It has been two years since I last wrote about you. One might think that two years is a short time, but looking back, I realise it has been a time of learning and unlearning, breaking and rebuilding. You have been both a source of joy and heartache, a teacher in ways I never expected. I once thought you were something that simply happened—a natural force, an inevitable presence. But I have come to realise that you are intentional, a choice we make every day. You have held my hand in laughter and wiped my tears in silence. You have shown up in friendships that flourished and in relationships that faded. You have taught me that love is not just about being present but about choosing to stay, to nurture, to walk alongside even when the road is rough. You have tested my patience, challenged my expectations, and forced me to see myself in ways I never dared to before. Despite the hurt, I do not resent you. You have made me stronger, softer, wiser. I am growing with you, learning what it truly means to love, to give, and to receive. And though you have changed in form and presence, I know you will always be part of me. This is our journey, Companionship. Let’s continue growing.
Companionship is the craziest thing to have… and even crazier to live without. Looking back at The Companion (Part 1), I realise how sweet and loving it was. But let’s be real—anyone in any kind of relationship knows that it is not always rosy. Now, I’m not saying it was entirely awful, but I have learned to be honest with myself about the people I allow in my life. I have walked away from relationships that only took from me. I have loved and lost, but more than anything, I have continued to live and love myself… even when it felt like I didn’t. Anyway, let’s get into it. First, we have my family…
18 February 2025
Dear Diary,
Family: The First Companions
My journey with companionship began the moment God saw fit to breathe life into me. That happened on my sister's 7th birthday—10th February 1997. My sister always tells me that my birth was the greatest gift she has ever received. Lol, not my parents scoring points with my life and existence!
As cute as it all sounds, I’ve never really liked my birthday. I love my sister’s birthday, but I hate mine. If you asked me when my battle with depression began, I’d tell you it was the day I understood what birthdays were—realising I would never truly have my own or know what it’s like to have a day all about me. That realisation shaped how I saw my family, how I saw the world, and ultimately, how I saw myself. Sharing a birthday taught me early on that people are treated differently. And that, my dear friend, is when and where I began developing my tough, no-nonsense persona—the one people often describe as both asshole-ish and manly.
Growing up, we all fight to find our voices and our place in the world. While most kids were busy exploring and discovering new things, I was trying to emerge from the shadow I had been placed under. My sister’s shadow. It felt cold. It felt like I was sinking. And if I’m being honest, it still feels that way sometimes. The sad part? She wasn’t the one who put me there. It was the weight of expectations—the unspoken comparisons, the constant push to be like her. My sister and I are so different, yet because she was the firstborn, her path was the blueprint. She was the standard. And I? I was the echo, often silenced before I could even figure out what I wanted to say. I still get silenced now, but these days, I choose to be deliberately loud—because why shouldn’t I be?
My sister is an academic. I am a creative. It’s easy to guess who made our parents proud in school. And honestly? I love that for her. I still do. She has always had her head screwed on right, while I go wherever the wind takes me. Call me Maphefo! But it’s all these little things—the comparisons, the expectations, the quiet battles—that shaped me into the person I am today. Now, don’t get me wrong—I love my parents. Wholeheartedly. And like I mentioned in Part 1, I truly met them when I became a mother. But more than that, I met my younger self in my daughter. And every time I think of young Rethabile, I cry. Because for so long, I convinced myself that I was tough, that I was grown. But in her, I see how fragile I actually was. I thought I was misunderstood, but the truth is, I was never really listened to. I finally understand what Tyler Perry meant when he said, "Sometimes we learn from our parents in reverse." Because sometimes the mistakes your parents make are for you to walk through in wisdom
My genesis with companionship is layered—it holds joy and love, but also hurt, pain, and anger. And yet, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It taught me to fight, to forgive, to love, to lose, and to love again. The downside? It has made me hold onto toxic relationships longer than I should. But even in that, I’m learning. And if there’s one thing I’ve taken from this, it’s that I can love the good with the bad. I can forgive without receiving an apology. And I can dare to live loudly and boldly—because I am fucking awesome. (Sorry, I said I wouldn’t cuss anymore). While family is the foundation of companionship, friendships are where we first learn to choose who walks with us in life.
Unlike family, friendships are formed through connection, not obligation. And in these relationships, I have learned some of my hardest and most beautiful lessons.
Friendship: The Chosen Companion
This one hurts. Okay, I’m lying—it really hurts.
With so much of my life spent fighting for my own identity within my family, friendship became the space where I could truly find myself. It was where I could explore, experience life, and just be. But the past two years have brought a whirlwind of change. Having had my boys in my life since childhood, I grew up a dude. But the year of my 26th birthday? That was the year I stepped into my womanhood. And can I just say—women are so amazing!
You’d think that growing up in a family dominated by women, both on my maternal and paternal sides, would have made me a girly girl. But nope—ke rata bashimane (I like boys). I played football and cricket in that one high school I attended and always loved being around my boys. I did try being part of a girls’ group back then, but I was clearly the odd one out, so I always found myself escaping to be with the gents. And let me tell you—life got weird when the girls started dating, and suddenly, everything changed.
Anyway, back to the year of 26. With males being my gateway to social life, transitioning into friendships with women—especially mothers—was hard! What do you mean there’s so much work involved?! There are certain male friends I have to this day whose real names I still don’t know. Yet, here in Women Friendshipville, we have these things called feelings. Wow. Emotions—ones I had never truly felt or explored until my late twenties (YOH, late twenties!). But I’ll save the journey of becoming a woman for another day.
What I will say is this: as I began unlearning a lot of what I thought I knew about friendship, I realised just how much of myself I was letting go of. Stepping into my feminine energy has allowed so much good to come into my life, but it also forced me to see a hard truth—just like with the gents, I had been holding onto friendships out of loyalty rather than how I was actually being treated. And let me tell you—I was shocked at the crap I allowed, simply because friendship was such a high priority for me. Ska wara (don’t worry), though—I’ve changed. Friendship has become very intentional for me. I had to let go of some people and make less room for new ones. Lmao, why would I add more when the small number I have already feels like plenty? I have learnt to be intentional with my friendships and my time, and I’ve grown into a woman I genuinely like. And man, I love it here. To my beautiful circle—I love you… even if there are fewer than three of you.
Friendships teach us how to trust, how to give, and how to receive. But there is another form of companionship that takes those lessons and tests them in a different way—love. And love, I have learned, is not always what we expect.
Romantic Companionship: The Most Vulnerable Choice
You came and loved every part of me. It was so unexpected how one conversation led to a lifetime of dreaming and building with you. You make me feel like a teenager, yet you love me for the woman I am. You feel so familiar, yet every day with you is an opportunity to unravel parts of you that fit so perfectly into the voids in me.
You make me believe that being empty isn’t being without—but rather, as God saw a void in the earth as an opportunity to create, you saw the empty places in me and filled them with love, patience, and purpose. You took my hurt and carried it with me. You looked at me and saw bigger and better than I ever could. You let me into your world, and instead of shrinking me to fit it, you expanded your world just to make space for me.
You are every companionship in one—my friend, my love, my home.
With you, my healing has been graceful. You hold up a mirror to my pain, not to break me, but to help me heal. You fill the spaces in my heart I once thought were irreparable. And yet, here you are—existing so effortlessly, making me smile simply by being.
Every minute without you doesn’t leave me feeling insecure; instead, it gives me the chance to live life fully, knowing I will return to share it with you. I simply love loving you because loving you is loving me. My world once felt dark, yet the thought of your smile brightens it. Your laugh—my favourite sound. Not just because it’s beautiful, but because, in that moment, I realise my existence brings you joy, even if only for a second.
You give meaning to life in a way no one else can. I can have many friends and family members, but there is only one you that I can love the way I love you.
My laughs are louder.
My silence is heard.
My presence is acknowledged.
You keep choosing me, even when I struggle to choose myself. You soften my heart, not by force, but with a love so steady that fear has no place in it. I do not fear losing you, not because love comes with guarantees, but because you reassure me—not just with words, but with action, with presence, with the way you hold space for me in a way no one else ever has.
With you, I feel safe.
I feel home.
I simply feel.
My pain is not overlooked, and my scars do not scare you. My silence sometimes pushes you away, yet the moment I speak, you are closer than before. My thoughts run away with me, but your reassurance pulls me back—like I am in Inception, grounded by the sound of your voice. My walls crumble with every encounter. My heart of iron melts when you speak to me. My stubbornness remains, yet it does not frighten you.
Oh, how beautiful you are.
You make me grateful for the heartbreaks I endured because now, I can fully appreciate every effort you make. I am glad you are not my first, because you would have met me at my worst—but I am hopeful, so deeply hopeful, that you are my last.
Declaring my love for you is one of my favourite things to do, and I pray I get to do it forever. Over and over again, I would choose you. A thousand times over, in every lifetime, in every reality—I would choose you.
I am grateful for you—for your lessons, your leadership, and the way you make space for me to grow. You continue to evolve, never leaving me behind. You care for me not out of obligation, but because you want to. You make me feel chosen, even when I cannot choose myself. You make me fall in love with life through the smallest, simplest things.
You never neglect my heart. Instead, you keep healing it, even when I bleed from wounds you did not cause.
You make me love music.
You make me love me.
How could I ever not love you?
Your hand fits perfectly in mine. My heart, with you, feels okay. Because with you, love isn’t just something I long for. It is something I live in.
Romantic companionship can be one of the deepest, most consuming forms of connection. But nothing has taught me more about selflessness and unconditional love than motherhood.
Motherhood: The Most Selfless Companionship
Motherhood is the most beautiful paradox—both heartbreak and restoration. It came to me unexpectedly, wrapped in contradictions. It is love and sacrifice, joy and exhaustion, fulfillment and self-doubt. It is the deepest companionship, yet the most selfless one.
I never knew how much space my heart had until you, Panda. You filled parts of me I didn’t know were empty. You became my reason to fight, to heal, to love deeper than I ever thought possible.
Dear Panda, How do I even put into words what you mean to me?
I sometimes wish you were old enough to truly understand everything I want to say, but that would mean we would have lived out so many years—years I am not ready to surrender just yet. As much as I look forward to watching you grow, I don’t think I will ever be ready for how quickly it happens.
Every day, you are slipping away from me and into yourself. And though it terrifies me, it also fills me with pride. I watch you become your own person, full of curiosity, love, and wonder. And I am so proud of you, baby girl. So proud that I wish I could give you the entire world, yet even that wouldn’t be enough to match what you have given me.
You make me want to be a better woman, a better mother—because you deserve that. You deserve someone who nurtures you, protects you, and teaches you what love is. And in the most beautiful and unexpected way, you do the same for me.
You pray for me, Panda. You pray for me. And you don’t even realize how much those prayers carry me through my days, through my life. There are moments when I feel weak, when I feel like I am not enough, but then I hear your tiny voice talking to God on my behalf, and suddenly, I find strength again.
I never want to live for you but to live with you. I never want you to feel the burden of keeping me alive, because that is not your weight to carry. Your heartbeat is enough. Your laughter, your existence—it is all I need to be okay.
Knowing that God wakes you up every morning fills me with peace. Not only did He choose you for me, but He chose you for this world. And I cannot wait to see all that He has in store for you.
I cannot wait to watch you become.
I cannot wait to see you be.
But my love for you does not exist in waiting. It is here, now, in every moment. In the way I watch you sleep, in the way I hold your tiny hands, in the way I whisper prayers over you when you’re too busy playing to notice.
It is in the sacrifices no one sees. The late nights, the early mornings. The endless patience, even when I am exhausted. The silent battles I fight to ensure that no burden ever touches you. The dreams I chase, not just for myself, but so you can grow up knowing that nothing is impossible for you.
It is in the way I smile even when I am hurting. Because I never want you to look at me and see struggle—I want you to see strength.
But the truth is, Panda, sometimes I do struggle. Sometimes I break down. Sometimes I question if I am doing enough, if I am being enough. But then you look at me, and I realize… I am your world, just as much as you are mine. And that is enough.
Motherhood is the greatest lesson in love. It teaches me that love is not about holding on too tightly, but about letting go with grace. It is not about molding you into who I think you should be, but nurturing who God created you to be. It is not about sacrificing myself entirely, but becoming the best version of me so that you have a mother you can be proud of.
And so, I will love you in every way I know how. I will fight for you, pray for you, guide you, and stand beside you as you grow. Because I am your mother. And you, my beautiful Panda, are my greatest love story.
Through every season, companionship has challenged me, broken me, healed me, and helped me grow. It is no longer something I take lightly, but something I choose with intention. And as I continue this journey, I know one thing for sure—companionship, in all its forms, is a gift, and I will honor it as such.
Anyway, let me go live. I love you
Love, Retha the companion
P.S - "A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity." — Proverbs 17:17
Dear God, I am grateful for the love you have given me through people!
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