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.
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