The Green Green Grass Of Home

I recently attended a family event and it was one of those events that lead you to examine your own life and relationships. My Thalassemia prevented me from joining in some of the celebrations, which at first I regretted but now not so much. It gave me time to think and review my life with a writer’s brain (hence this particular post).
I’m not particularly insecure about many things except what people think of me. I now think this has stemmed from the subconscious understanding from childhood that I always had to do as I was told. As the youngest, I have felt my elder siblings enjoyed a larger amount of freedom than I was granted. I don’t resent them at all and my parents were in no way stricter in raising me than my siblings, it was more a choice on my part than a forced reality from my parents.
I never really fought for anything – even down to deciding which subjects to study at further education, I did not appeal against the “no” I met with when choosing my options. I just accepted it was a “no” and moved on. This led me to studying subjects that others believed I chose because I had a teenage crush on the teacher (even though he had since left the school by this time). It just seemed easier at the time to let people believe this, thinking it would go away but this misconception still follows me. It doesn’t matter now though. I have finally found the path to my calling or true vocation in writing and have lived in between. I have stories to tell that I would not have if I had ‘got my own way’ to begin with.
During the family gathering last weekend, people aware of my health complications asked how I was coping with the pregnancy. As I so often do, I played down the complications for their sake and instead talked about their lives. Everyone likes to talk about themselves but I have the habit of playing everything down for the sake of other people. Even if I wanted to change, how can I go against a lifetime of teaching? It goes against my grain to effectively put my needs above others. Now, I’m not painting myself out to be a saint but sometimes I wish I could talk about myself. I wish I could speak the truth when people ask me how I am. Even during the various medical appointments I now have, I do not emphasise enough how bad I really feel.
I don’t believe I am the only one who does this, in fact I believe we all do. We all believe the ‘grass is greener on the other side’. We all paint our lives to be better than it is. We all pretend to be happier; more content than we really are. In effect we are painting over the straw-like texture of our own grass with deception not for our own sakes but for the sake of everyone else. We all have parts of our lives that we would rather not dwell upon, parts of our lives we wish we could change but are unable to do so. What we so often forget is that nothing can thrive without water. What we need to do more than anything  is to accept the good and bad in our lives. We mustn’t forget the bad because those times are what make us who we are. They give us a chance to change the future, they give us lessons to learn by.
What we must do is nurture what we do have, to pick through the weeds and tend to our own garden before even glancing across the fence and comparing what we have with that of our neighbour.