The concept of the self fulfilling prophesy is one that many have been exposed to, generally speaking it is one where, what is spoken into a life, breeds, bears life and becomes reality. This can be either good or bad...Having come to the end of this tenure in the journey I have realized how important it is to be conscious of the events which have occurred in the past, so that the future outcomes can be different. In 2008 when I started dating my bf at the time, I had a difficult time recalling events from the past, mostly because I had made an effort to compartmentalize them and place them in the recesses of my mind...now I see how damaging that was and as such I have over the last few months, brought many things to the fore...(maybe to the chagrin of the present, something resembling a significant other)
I graduate with a Masters in Education tomorrow...MY Masters in Education...it's something many boast of these days...it's a real struggle many have had to endure, a two year upheaval and make sacrifices during that time. My struggle was a different one and while I had to husband/significant other or children vying for my time, I wrestled with so many other things, I sometimes wonder whether it would have been easier having actual physical demands of my time and abilities...but I made it through, thanks of course to an unwavering faith and the constant love and support of so many wonderful persons who I keep in my prayer on a daily basis and will use every opportunity to remind them just how grateful I am for their invaluable presence in my life...
But here we are at the end...let's for a moment step into the time machine and go back...we can't change anything, not that I'd want to...it all happened the way it was supposed to...I guess...
He squandered all his money on alcohol...all...days would pass and there would be nothing to eat, a wife and two kids to not only feed but send to school as well, but he was unconcerned, there was so much life happening and he was after all the life of the party. There wasn't even a roof over their heads, since they lived downstairs of a house that wasn't even theirs, using an outhouse and an outdoor bathroom. But the children were fed and clothed and books were bought, not that he even cared either way. They lived a life detached from him and his family, drawn to their mother's family more than anything. They thrived, even among the weeds, the weeds that, had they had their own way, would have suffocated them and left them lifeless and without hope and a future.
For all the work the teacher (uncle) put in, one still cannot reconcile why the results came back as they did but the ink was dry and it spelled out an impending doom...Princes Town Junior Secondary...The tears flowed like floods that day and in what is now apparent an insult to say the least, his brother callously hands her a hundred dollar bill, quite a substantial sum in those days (1993) told her stop crying and just go to the school. One thing's for sure, attending a school such as PTJSS in those days was pretty much a going through of the motions to form 5 graduation where as a young woman especially of East Indian descent, one was fated to come out with little or no passes and eventually become a housewife with couple children and ungrateful drunkard husband in tow.
That I guess is where the self fulfilling prophesy over her life began. And she bought into it with every ounce of her being. Classes were unimportant and insignificant, she was among the lowest of the low academically and as such gleaned as a candle in a dark room with little or no effort. The back steps were her stomping grounds, and when she did make her presence known in a classroom, the back desks were the area of choice and well, she wasn't there alone...she was popular to say the least and there were many unmentionable (not so proud) moments that occurred there. With no end exam and a transition to Princes Town Senior as an almost seamless process, times got a little harder, but she still didn't care. With a rowdy personality and a mouth so filthy it made a sailor look like a church mouse, she went through the motions and as they had already decided for her, she came out at the end of five years with very little evidence of any iota of success.
Here's where the prophesy begins to get challenged...she most certainly wasn't about to reconcile herself to a life of slaving over a stove in the wee hours of the morning when husband lay snuggled in bed, she wasn't going to reconcile herself to a life where her needs and financial well being depended on another, she wasn't going to reconcile herself to a life where children had to be fed on potato cooked every possible way or green fig as well, where borrowing flour and sugar and toothpaste and soap was as normal as breathing. That was not for her, magazine pages provided a gateway to life that was out of her reach but she began to believe that strangely enough they were within her grasp. And she fought the system...
Another school of thought gives rise to the fulfillment of prophesy in one's life...a predestination...where one's path is already mapped out and regardless of the circumstances in life, and no matter if free will comes into play, and as much as one can try to circumnavigate the destiny, it will come to pass. That's the school of thought which lifts up and tears down the negative self fulfilling prophesy seed planted so many years ago. An opportunity to do a Bachelor's degree in a time when financially it was impossible...an opportunity which saw one gaining finances rather than expending. An opportunity which came as an interruption to many was seen as that, yes but an interruption which would lead to far greater things. It built friendships, taught a thing or two about family and the conditionality of love, about friendships and it's fickleness but also about it's strength. It built resilience, self worth, esteem and the general outlook of life. It was a turning point and a grand one at best. A spring board to the present.
And here we are, back at the end, where we began, the culmination of two years of struggle, for in spite of all that was gained during the 'interrupted' years, this time, there was no one around in close proximity. It wasn't easy to drive to High Street and get the parking stamp/free parking and the counsel that would help with the days of struggle. It wasn't easy coming home to empty apartments and having to find the fortitude within oneself to get to work on those assignments. It wasn't easy when people who started out at your side, suddenly removed themselves with no explanation whatsoever. It wasn't easy when words written in what was obviously English made absolutely no sense no matter how many times you read it and you'd end up in tears and begin believing all over again the words which though they were never said out loud to you, had already ordained you a failure and you felt exactly that way.The struggle is real slang bodes well at this time. But I beat those demons....the drinking, considerable less now, isn't such a hindrance to proving for his family, he too has risen above what he was supposed to have become, according to someone else.
I am grateful for this two years more than any other time in my life thus far. It showed me who the real ones are, those who could do nothing for me, because I had nothing to give off from myself other than myself. I have met some of the greatest individuals during this time, some extraordinary women and men, one such individual who I will forever hold in my heart till the day I die, even if he's not a physical presence in my life for future days, who holds fast to the fact that he has done nothing for me and it's all within me, but who would never understand the battles that are waged in an empty apartment in one's head. I have no doubt that I can do amazing things...it's already been written, I am predestined and ordained for greatness, but it's not a walk I walk alone. The Father goes with me, from conception and I know He's always there, even when I don't deserve Him to be. He has blessed me with many angels in the flesh, who continue to remind me daily of my purpose and as I break the prophesy which was spoken over my life many years ago and step into the prophesy that I am to fulfill...I say to you, turn the page with me, if you dare...I know I can't wait.
Friday, 24 October 2014
Thursday, 13 March 2014
Aren't there supposed to be fireworks?
I was recently asked if I knew what love is and I hesitated and then said no, however I realized after a little time 'ponderating' that I did in fact know what love is. My ex and I have a mutual friend who couldn't understand how I was so loving towards him. How could I have come from the parents that I did, and yet have the disposition that I have? In a relationship, I enjoy letting those I love know that I love them, I enjoy hugging, let's not even talk about kissing and well the cuddling, a dear friend of mine told me that I'm a cuddle whore and I took it as a compliment. There's just something about cuddling that takes intimacy to a whole different level, something for me, not even sex can achieve.
Now if you know my parents or if you are good at inferences you would have realized from previous posts, or conversations with me that my parents weren't really the type who expressed love in a way that was apparent. This up until recently. Hugging and kissing in my family were confined to birthdays and Christmas with anything outside of that being a rarity. It was only when I moved that I really started kissing my parents a little more regularly and even then it's met with some resistance in my psyche. It's not something my brain has really adjusted to, just yet.
Based on this then, how could I really be as loving as I am? My parents provided a very hostile environment for me as a child, while there weren't any major incidents of physical abuse, it was not the kind of place I enjoyed being in (there are some things you can't divulge online). Because of this, I preferred to spend most of my time at the home of my grandparents, I don't think they minded either. I loved my grandfather, he was a great man and I learnt a lot from him, by the way he lived. My grandmother, to her I am the youngest daughter and she is now my best friend. It was through these two firstly I learnt of love and affection. My grandfather's lap ALWAYS had space for me, even when all the other chairs were empty and even when I was pre-adolescent. My grandmother's bed always had space for me, even when there were other empty beds in the house. They laid the foundation and the other families I interacted with closely compounded my ideologies of what love and affection are supposed to look like.
In 2012 my aunt and uncle celebrated their wedding anniversary and my uncle now never fails to remind me as to my main reason for still being single. He is my benchmark. Yet the reasons they think I want a man like him aren't really those that I have but they'll never really know. My uncle is a devoted husband and father. During the time I lived with my grandparents, my uncle lived downstairs with his family. I spent many days interacting with my uncle as he interacted with my three younger cousins. Granted he was big on discipline and none was spared, he showed love towards them and my aunt in a way I was never fortunate to get from my own parents. Every day was a special occasion. My uncle worked shifts and would at one point in time be gone for three day periods. His return would always be one of great excitement and he would never fail to disappoint, bringing dolls and flowers and seemingly insignificant things for my aunt and cousins. And while inexpensive in monetary worth, they were priceless because of the love they were bought in. Hugs, kisses and displays of affection were not spared either. And as they years passed the love and affection has not dwindled but has grown. I look now at my adult cousins playfully and lovingly romping with their father and know that when I get married, that's the kind of man I want for my children to call daddy. Sometimes I greet my uncle more lovingly than I do my own father, not for the lack of love, but for the strangeness attached to it.
Added to this experience is another which has shaped the way I view love. Running away seems to have been the one thing I have mastered from early. As we got older and relationships with cousins changed we started spending lots of time at the home of my grand aunt. Her son is two years younger than I am and he and I at one point in time were as thick as thieves. At their home, the words I love you echoed through the corridors and even to this day, sometimes used as a mamaguy tool, many times it's said with genuine meaning. I would look on as my second cousins would also frolic and romp with each other and with their parents. These were experiences that were very foreign to me as well, at home with my parents. In retrospect I also greet this aunt and uncle differently from the way I greet my own parents.
I remember reading somewhere something to the effect that we don't know what we have until we lose it but we also don't know what we were missing until it comes along. And that right there is the crux of it all. I may not have gotten the kind of love from my parents that others got from theirs. Maybe my parents just didn't know how to show their love back then in those ways, they try now, and I'd be lying if I say it's a little too much a little too late. It isn't, they are making an effort and I am pretty sure the baby our family is soon expecting will fare better in terms of the overflowing of love and affection he or she will receive than either my brother or myself did. But for me, I know what I want for myself. I want the world to know I love the people I love, whether it's platonic or beyond that. I want the people that I love to know that they mean the world to me and I'd most definitely be lost without them. Love isn't a noun, it's a verb, it's something that breathes new life into every bland day by it's actions. It's the actions in little things- a hug, a butterfly kiss, a light touch, a message in the middle of the day for no reason save and except to see if you are okay. These are the things that epitomize love to me. The little things more often than not translate themselves into the bigger things, the bigger things done selflessly, done simply because of the joy that comes as a result of seeing the smile on the face of the one who you love.
Those are the days I dream of, those are the days when the firework display will be so blinding but only for the ones who are staring directly at the source of the explosion. Wait for it, it'll come.
Now if you know my parents or if you are good at inferences you would have realized from previous posts, or conversations with me that my parents weren't really the type who expressed love in a way that was apparent. This up until recently. Hugging and kissing in my family were confined to birthdays and Christmas with anything outside of that being a rarity. It was only when I moved that I really started kissing my parents a little more regularly and even then it's met with some resistance in my psyche. It's not something my brain has really adjusted to, just yet.
Based on this then, how could I really be as loving as I am? My parents provided a very hostile environment for me as a child, while there weren't any major incidents of physical abuse, it was not the kind of place I enjoyed being in (there are some things you can't divulge online). Because of this, I preferred to spend most of my time at the home of my grandparents, I don't think they minded either. I loved my grandfather, he was a great man and I learnt a lot from him, by the way he lived. My grandmother, to her I am the youngest daughter and she is now my best friend. It was through these two firstly I learnt of love and affection. My grandfather's lap ALWAYS had space for me, even when all the other chairs were empty and even when I was pre-adolescent. My grandmother's bed always had space for me, even when there were other empty beds in the house. They laid the foundation and the other families I interacted with closely compounded my ideologies of what love and affection are supposed to look like.
In 2012 my aunt and uncle celebrated their wedding anniversary and my uncle now never fails to remind me as to my main reason for still being single. He is my benchmark. Yet the reasons they think I want a man like him aren't really those that I have but they'll never really know. My uncle is a devoted husband and father. During the time I lived with my grandparents, my uncle lived downstairs with his family. I spent many days interacting with my uncle as he interacted with my three younger cousins. Granted he was big on discipline and none was spared, he showed love towards them and my aunt in a way I was never fortunate to get from my own parents. Every day was a special occasion. My uncle worked shifts and would at one point in time be gone for three day periods. His return would always be one of great excitement and he would never fail to disappoint, bringing dolls and flowers and seemingly insignificant things for my aunt and cousins. And while inexpensive in monetary worth, they were priceless because of the love they were bought in. Hugs, kisses and displays of affection were not spared either. And as they years passed the love and affection has not dwindled but has grown. I look now at my adult cousins playfully and lovingly romping with their father and know that when I get married, that's the kind of man I want for my children to call daddy. Sometimes I greet my uncle more lovingly than I do my own father, not for the lack of love, but for the strangeness attached to it.
Added to this experience is another which has shaped the way I view love. Running away seems to have been the one thing I have mastered from early. As we got older and relationships with cousins changed we started spending lots of time at the home of my grand aunt. Her son is two years younger than I am and he and I at one point in time were as thick as thieves. At their home, the words I love you echoed through the corridors and even to this day, sometimes used as a mamaguy tool, many times it's said with genuine meaning. I would look on as my second cousins would also frolic and romp with each other and with their parents. These were experiences that were very foreign to me as well, at home with my parents. In retrospect I also greet this aunt and uncle differently from the way I greet my own parents.
I remember reading somewhere something to the effect that we don't know what we have until we lose it but we also don't know what we were missing until it comes along. And that right there is the crux of it all. I may not have gotten the kind of love from my parents that others got from theirs. Maybe my parents just didn't know how to show their love back then in those ways, they try now, and I'd be lying if I say it's a little too much a little too late. It isn't, they are making an effort and I am pretty sure the baby our family is soon expecting will fare better in terms of the overflowing of love and affection he or she will receive than either my brother or myself did. But for me, I know what I want for myself. I want the world to know I love the people I love, whether it's platonic or beyond that. I want the people that I love to know that they mean the world to me and I'd most definitely be lost without them. Love isn't a noun, it's a verb, it's something that breathes new life into every bland day by it's actions. It's the actions in little things- a hug, a butterfly kiss, a light touch, a message in the middle of the day for no reason save and except to see if you are okay. These are the things that epitomize love to me. The little things more often than not translate themselves into the bigger things, the bigger things done selflessly, done simply because of the joy that comes as a result of seeing the smile on the face of the one who you love.
Those are the days I dream of, those are the days when the firework display will be so blinding but only for the ones who are staring directly at the source of the explosion. Wait for it, it'll come.
Saturday, 22 December 2012
This ritual is exhausting
There's a saying that goes, it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. I have not lost all hope yet that this isn't true but I am drawing quite close. The heart is such a complex organ that can be given away time and again and still have more left to be given. It is truly wondrous. Yet while my heart is still capable of loving, it hasn't yet become cold and bitter, I am not sure it can take much more of the pain which rejection and the lack of reciprocated feelings brings. My heart is a fickle thing though, I guess she gets what she deserves. Most of the men she has given herself too never gave any indication that they felt anything for her beyond what the bounds of their friendship provided. But she, no, she had to jump out of herself time and again and get tangled in a web all on her own. Egged on nonetheless by a mind that's not much smarter than she is.
Quite a combination those two...the heart and the mind. They are at the core of their own unraveling, yet they never learn. They didn't learn after that time in secondary school, when they made her write that note to the random guy in class who never even acknowledged her feelings. They never learned after that time in her early twenties when they prompted her to write that other note to the random guy who was her good friend at the time, who also never acknowledged her feelings for him. They never learnt when she bared her soul to the very dear friend who made her feel so special and then took her heart and literally dashed it to the ground. It didn't learn in her mid twenties when she thought she had found the one who was the end of the line. The pieces of the heart, she puts back together as best she could and while they never really go back to the way they were before, they still have the propensity to love. BUT IT STILL DOESN'T LEARN. Those reckless cohorts were at it again in her late twenties, giving it all up...well giving itself fully to one who was there from childhood. One whom she thought was worth it after all. Guess what, they were both wrong and they all suffered in the end, the heart, the mind and the one within whom they exist most of all.
She came quite close to quitting that time. Throwing in the towel and just reconciling herself to the fact that maybe it was best to not love at all, because she was becoming pro at the loving and losing game. But those
conniving, deceptive little gremlins not only have the propensity to love but they have an overwhelming gift of giving her hope. Hope that better will come, hope that around the corner she is going to find him, she is going to meet the one worth her time, effort and energy. This is the one thing that drives her. The one factor that has ensured her not losing it all, just yet. The one thing which after all the years of loving and losing, after all the years of making her feel as if she was not worth it to them, keeps her sane.
And as she neared her thirties, hope made her see in him, what maybe isn't even there. He made her feel he was worth her time and then when her heart and mind, very hesitantly now (they were learning) started getting to a point where maybe, just maybe she could see herself getting more out of this than just the friendship which existed, he pulls back. At least this time she is glad that she simply wrote him the note, but never sent it. This way, while her heart reels from the pain, her ego doesn't have to deal with the loss of another friend. It doesn't have to deal with another man's nonchalance and non acknowledgement of her feelings for him. Thankfully, this time, her feelings simply scratched surface, so there's not much pain attached. The tidal wave of disappointment which it brings however may be just as bad.
She's not ready to give up yet, although she has vehemently said that she is D.O.N.E. Even she and the ones she has said it to know she won't yet. But this much is true, she is tired, tired of the ritual of loving and losing. Tired of the pain of rejection. But she will go on, because it drives her on, knowing one day...her love story will come true.
“Was I bitter? Absolutely. Hurt? You bet your sweet ass I was hurt. Who doesn't feel a part of their heart break at rejection. You ask yourself every question you can think of, what, why, how come, and then your sadness turns to anger. That's my favorite part. It drives me, feeds me, and makes one hell of a story.”
― Jennifer Salaiz
― Jennifer Salaiz
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Do you have a type?
As time progressed my 'type' changed and I moved from the tall, thin ones to the not so tall but low haired ones. Guys with grazed, low hair made me swoon and I went a gag gag over them. There was just something about the hair, or lack of hair that was so appealing.
The thing about these 'types' though is that they never lasted for long, like a star falling from the sky, their brightness blazed but wore off as quickly as a graze across the sky. Their personalities and mine just never meshed. Beyond the physical attraction and fitting snugly into the 'type' box, their depth (for me anyways) wasn't far beyond the surface.
A far cry now from being a teenager, something dawned on me and maybe it's the fact that I haven't slept properly in probably a week and should be studying instead of writing this, but yea I had a moment. My 'type' is no longer based on the physical. Yes I still have a 'type' but I am yet to meet the man who can fit the part, some have come quite close in recent times. I am not seeking perfection, I know I certainly am not perfect and as such do not expect that from someone else. I do want someone who has some sort of physical appeal, but now it has gone beyond that. Here's what my 'type' looks like now; I want a man who is
- God fearing!
- can carry an intelligent conversation,
- but can also engage in humour which borders on the perverse.
- a man who has respect for his mother (the saying is true, how a man treats his mother, is an indication of how he will treat you.)
- a man who will allow me to freely express myself, even if that means breaking into random songs at the most inappropriate of times and the most unusual of songs (Sesame Street and random soca)
- a man who is also able to freely express himself when he's around me.
- someone who values my opinions, even when and if they are not in agreement with what they think should be done
- but is also willing to do the same for me.
- someone who will be my friend...in good times and in bad...especially in PMS (yea that's a tmi, sorry)
Quite a list of expectations, aren't they. But just as I was able to find men who were skinny and tall or those with the grazed low hair. I know that I will find this one 'type'. Call it growing up, I don't know, but I really think that once you connect with someone beyond the superficial level then the possibility exists that you could have a great thing in the making. Of course when that happens for me, I will let you know. In the meantime, I continue to go around drooling at attractive men, I am after all only a woman and if men can do it and we lobby for equality, then hey, why can't we, right ;) However I am now keenly aware of what my new 'type' is, it's the kind of thing that I can see in my future and as such I have changed my perspective of it all.
Monday, 10 December 2012
To all the ones I've loved before
“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.”
Have you ever been in love?
Love, of all the words in the English language I believe this has to be one of the most used words. One of the most misconstrued as well. Love is defined by the Merriam Webster as;
A. (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties
(2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt by lovers
(3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests
B. :an assurance of affection
C. : warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion
D. : the object of attachment, devotion, or admiration
If these definitions are to have any weighting then, the answer to the question as posed above would be a resounding YES. As humans we have a seemingly voracious desire to be loved and to love as well. I have fallen prey time and again to this need, this incessant need to be loved and have compromised on many levels for what I thought was love. But my compromise hasn't been on the eros love plane, as surprising as that may be. It is quite common for individuals to compromise here, not me.
My compromise has been on the phileo love plane, this is the type of love that exists on a platonic level. I grew up knowing what stergo love was, my grandfather treated me like a queen and everyone followed in stride. Yet somehow this was never enough and as uncles and aunts eventually got married and started having families of their own, my "significance" dwindled and as such I sought love in other places. Friendships, the word friend to me carries strong connotations now. I have learnt that not every smile carries with it genuine concern and not everyone who is ventures to have a conversation really cares about what you have to say. I learnt this fact from my experiences at secondary school...I fought so hard to find a niche in society and felt that I had to compromise values that I was raised with. At the time however, I loved those people. We were a little gang on to ourselves, five girls ready to take on the world. That love fizzled with the friendship after secondary school.
The face of love changed in 2000 and has continued to change since then, who knew then that this seemingly insignificant event would be the catalyst for life as I know it today. Love was planted, grew and thrived. Here I came to realize that friendship wasn't based on who the other party wanted me to be, but rather I could be who I was and would be accepted for that. Compromise was made, but it wasn't about being someone else. Family relationships were compromised for them as strangers became friends, then best friends and to me the argument that males and females can have platonic friendships was moot. But here is where my anamalous personality comes to the fore, male friends got into relationships on the eros plane and suddenly my friendship became obsolete. Times have changed but I still love them. I still want what is best for their lives and I still pray for them. However I have come to the realization that they choose to take certain paths in their lives and as such I wish them well. I pray them the greatest of all forms of happiness that life has to offer and so much more. Even with the ones lost, others have stayed and many more have come and my love for you is in way impacted by the 'loves' I have lost.
Now here's the thing, even as phileo love has been a central part of my life and the kind of love that I am eternally grateful for, I have this craving for love on the eros level. I want someone to love me for who I am, wholly and solely. But don't get confused into thinking I want someone who will forget all who they are and focus on me only (blog post to come). However in my thirst to get this kind of love, I have gotten into quite a few not so favourable 'relationships'. I have given my heart time and again. I have stood helplessly by as my heart has been crushed time and again by the very one who claimed at the time to love me. I have picked up the shards each time and tried to put them back together. Every time more harrowing on my psyche and efficacy. Irony of it is, I love each of them still, certainly don't want to be with any of them now, but the love exists frozen in the time which it existed. Funny thing about this is, even as the pieces no longer fit soundly together, even with the myriad of hurt and confusion they have brought, I still believe that it is out the for me- love of my own of the eros kind.
In my search for love though, I have come upon two profound realizations...the agape love I have in my life is irreplaceable and truly something which has to be experienced individually for one to really be able to relate to what I am saying. No one can love you like God does. His love is genuine and pure and He loves you with all your imperfections and anomalies. Secondly, when you realize that kind of love exists you are able to love yourself. I remember hearing what seems like an eternity ago, a lecture, it is believed that love is about meeting someone who 'fills' you or you filling them, an arrangement like that will only serve to leave one or the other empty. It was said rather to be filled and find someone who is also filled so that each will overflow the other.
This truth I have come to regard for both the phileo and eros loves. The friendships I have now, the deep, true, long term, non judgmental, no 'toting' feelings types I know they are full and they over flow who I am. As per the relationship that I want, well what can I say...if I have met you already and our time is not just yet...I wait with bated breath. If I have not met you yet, I know you are out there. In the meantime I continue to fill myself and thank the ones I have loved before for all that they have taught me and helped me become.
Have you ever been in love?
Love, of all the words in the English language I believe this has to be one of the most used words. One of the most misconstrued as well. Love is defined by the Merriam Webster as;
A. (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties
(2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt by lovers
(3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests
B. :an assurance of affection
C. : warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion
D. : the object of attachment, devotion, or admiration
If these definitions are to have any weighting then, the answer to the question as posed above would be a resounding YES. As humans we have a seemingly voracious desire to be loved and to love as well. I have fallen prey time and again to this need, this incessant need to be loved and have compromised on many levels for what I thought was love. But my compromise hasn't been on the eros love plane, as surprising as that may be. It is quite common for individuals to compromise here, not me.
My compromise has been on the phileo love plane, this is the type of love that exists on a platonic level. I grew up knowing what stergo love was, my grandfather treated me like a queen and everyone followed in stride. Yet somehow this was never enough and as uncles and aunts eventually got married and started having families of their own, my "significance" dwindled and as such I sought love in other places. Friendships, the word friend to me carries strong connotations now. I have learnt that not every smile carries with it genuine concern and not everyone who is ventures to have a conversation really cares about what you have to say. I learnt this fact from my experiences at secondary school...I fought so hard to find a niche in society and felt that I had to compromise values that I was raised with. At the time however, I loved those people. We were a little gang on to ourselves, five girls ready to take on the world. That love fizzled with the friendship after secondary school.
The face of love changed in 2000 and has continued to change since then, who knew then that this seemingly insignificant event would be the catalyst for life as I know it today. Love was planted, grew and thrived. Here I came to realize that friendship wasn't based on who the other party wanted me to be, but rather I could be who I was and would be accepted for that. Compromise was made, but it wasn't about being someone else. Family relationships were compromised for them as strangers became friends, then best friends and to me the argument that males and females can have platonic friendships was moot. But here is where my anamalous personality comes to the fore, male friends got into relationships on the eros plane and suddenly my friendship became obsolete. Times have changed but I still love them. I still want what is best for their lives and I still pray for them. However I have come to the realization that they choose to take certain paths in their lives and as such I wish them well. I pray them the greatest of all forms of happiness that life has to offer and so much more. Even with the ones lost, others have stayed and many more have come and my love for you is in way impacted by the 'loves' I have lost.
Now here's the thing, even as phileo love has been a central part of my life and the kind of love that I am eternally grateful for, I have this craving for love on the eros level. I want someone to love me for who I am, wholly and solely. But don't get confused into thinking I want someone who will forget all who they are and focus on me only (blog post to come). However in my thirst to get this kind of love, I have gotten into quite a few not so favourable 'relationships'. I have given my heart time and again. I have stood helplessly by as my heart has been crushed time and again by the very one who claimed at the time to love me. I have picked up the shards each time and tried to put them back together. Every time more harrowing on my psyche and efficacy. Irony of it is, I love each of them still, certainly don't want to be with any of them now, but the love exists frozen in the time which it existed. Funny thing about this is, even as the pieces no longer fit soundly together, even with the myriad of hurt and confusion they have brought, I still believe that it is out the for me- love of my own of the eros kind.
In my search for love though, I have come upon two profound realizations...the agape love I have in my life is irreplaceable and truly something which has to be experienced individually for one to really be able to relate to what I am saying. No one can love you like God does. His love is genuine and pure and He loves you with all your imperfections and anomalies. Secondly, when you realize that kind of love exists you are able to love yourself. I remember hearing what seems like an eternity ago, a lecture, it is believed that love is about meeting someone who 'fills' you or you filling them, an arrangement like that will only serve to leave one or the other empty. It was said rather to be filled and find someone who is also filled so that each will overflow the other.
This truth I have come to regard for both the phileo and eros loves. The friendships I have now, the deep, true, long term, non judgmental, no 'toting' feelings types I know they are full and they over flow who I am. As per the relationship that I want, well what can I say...if I have met you already and our time is not just yet...I wait with bated breath. If I have not met you yet, I know you are out there. In the meantime I continue to fill myself and thank the ones I have loved before for all that they have taught me and helped me become.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
You can run, but you can't hide
I ran away from home. It wasn't like in the movies, done under the covers of night. I didn't sneak out gingerly through any windows. There wasn't any need to move in silence or fear of being caught. My family helped me pack, they helped me settle into my new apt. Yes they helped settle me in, but truthfully I ran away from home.
The feeling if being a lost puzzle piece didn't occur overnight, I believe it was always a thought in the back of my mind that I didn't really fit here. My family by all accounts is very eccentric and unconventional in many ways. Females in my family are encouraged to be independent, assertive and go after the things they want. Within reason, theirs of course, not ours. A contradiction of sorts you say? YES INDEED! So this unconventional family pushed me to run. My situation is one that, even in an unconventional family, you are expected to live with you parents until marriage and then you are to live with you husband and more often than not his family for the rest of eternity. EGAADDD!!!
As a teenager I was like OH HELL NO, I will not allow myself to be one of those women. I needed to know what it felt like to live alone, I wanted to experience living on little money and resorting to eating Crix if I had to. (topic of a blog to come). I didn't want to live with my parents and then live go on to live with husband and in laws, it was a reality I couldn't reconcile myself to. With the onset of early adulthood however, all that was happening for me was the fact that I had to live with my parents, relationships on the eros plane weren't showing any indications of having longevity. My parents, they really didn't know, still don't know how to deal with an adult, single child. It was during this time that my tolerance level for my family started dwindling (for another blog as well...lol).
But not just my immediate family but for my extended family as well. The maternal side of my family is very close ( going most everywhere together). My paternal family, they are close as well and move together a lot, but with them, I was like a square peg trying to exist in the land of round holes, so I never really bothered. But mummy's family, boy as a child, I spent almost every waking and sleeping moment with my grandparents and everyone was always around. My family is like a small village unto itself. And with the 'growing up' everyone started becoming irritating and insufferable or were they always like that and I didn't realize. I found a niche with a group of people who helped me escape temporarily from time to time. My interaction with my family lessened and I would be gone for weekends and public holidays with my new found 'family'. I missed many gatherings of my biological family, but didn't feel as if I was missing out on anything and I couldn't be bothered.
Yet even with the release that these friends bought, I still had to return for extended periods to my family's home and for me the mental anguish was becoming to much for me to bear. Tensions were at an all time high and choices I had made, had caused a degree of unease among the members of my family. I NEEDED TO GET OUT. And so I ran. I found an avenue and with a speed that would make Usain Bolt's head spin, I grabbed it and ran. Placement in a job like mine, for an individual like myself would be easy. I could get to work anywhere I choose, even right within my village. I choose to go as far away from my village as possible, knowing with a measure of confidence that I would be granted an opportunity to work on this side of the country. The justification that I wanted to further my studies and the proximity to the university would be the smoke screen to mask the fact that I was just running away from them.
Trepidation hit, when my inner desires started becoming my reality. I was granted a chance to work 'far' from home (nowhere in my country is far). I didn't know how to tell them and so I stalled for days. I was looking for apartments on this side and still hadn't said a word to my family as regards to me having to move away from them. Inevitably I had to and there was pandemonium all around, how could they send you so far? What will you do? Where will you live? There concerns were endearing but I didn't care, I wanted to shout that I needed to get away from the suffocation which was brought on by you people, but I wasn't that coldhearted one time.
Fast forward to the present, a little more than two years later. I have lived in two other apartments and am now in my third. My family has helped me pack and unpack on each occasion, they still haven't realized that I have run away from them. What used to be my close friend circle has dissipated but I value the ones which has taken its place. However it means that I don't galavant as much as I used to before. I have started going back to school and really now don't have that much time to waste (note to self especially). This week marks one month since I have been 'home', (to be blogged about), the longest I have ever been away from that place while still being in the country. And a scary reality hit me last week. *in whispered tones* I miss them....shhhhhhhhh don't say anything.
My parents came to visit me on Friday and then came again on Sunday afternoon (they miss me as well). My grandmother called, she was checking to make sure everything's okay. In the time that has elapsed since 'running away' I have come to realize that I love my eccentric family, I love that we talk nonsense and it makes sense to us, I love that clowning around seems to be genetic and that everyone has a turn to wear the 'blonde' crown, as unwittingly as that occurrence may be. They may irritate the hell out of me when I am around them for extended periods but in their absence, or rather my absence from them, things really can be boring. (I guess I am more of a sucker than I thought I was) Sociologists talk about primary socialization having the strongest impact on who we become, I really never agreed with that school of thought. I felt secondary socialization was stronger in creating for us an identity we would own as adults.
But truth is were it not for the zany, overly excited, mildly OCD, love to cook, love to eat people who raised me, I certainly would not be the person I am today. It takes running away to realize that fact. I wouldn't regress on my decisions though, I am happy that I am away from them. It is only when we are not interacting with something that we'll realize we miss it. I am now looking forward eagerly to Christmas vacation. I am going to have a 'time' with my jelly beans and hopefully won't have to write an anger management needed post here during that time.
To you who struggle with family issues of your own, my recommendation would be, run! I know it's easier said than done, but if you can and an opportunity exists for you to get away from them even in a temporary sense, do it. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder.
The feeling if being a lost puzzle piece didn't occur overnight, I believe it was always a thought in the back of my mind that I didn't really fit here. My family by all accounts is very eccentric and unconventional in many ways. Females in my family are encouraged to be independent, assertive and go after the things they want. Within reason, theirs of course, not ours. A contradiction of sorts you say? YES INDEED! So this unconventional family pushed me to run. My situation is one that, even in an unconventional family, you are expected to live with you parents until marriage and then you are to live with you husband and more often than not his family for the rest of eternity. EGAADDD!!!
As a teenager I was like OH HELL NO, I will not allow myself to be one of those women. I needed to know what it felt like to live alone, I wanted to experience living on little money and resorting to eating Crix if I had to. (topic of a blog to come). I didn't want to live with my parents and then live go on to live with husband and in laws, it was a reality I couldn't reconcile myself to. With the onset of early adulthood however, all that was happening for me was the fact that I had to live with my parents, relationships on the eros plane weren't showing any indications of having longevity. My parents, they really didn't know, still don't know how to deal with an adult, single child. It was during this time that my tolerance level for my family started dwindling (for another blog as well...lol).
But not just my immediate family but for my extended family as well. The maternal side of my family is very close ( going most everywhere together). My paternal family, they are close as well and move together a lot, but with them, I was like a square peg trying to exist in the land of round holes, so I never really bothered. But mummy's family, boy as a child, I spent almost every waking and sleeping moment with my grandparents and everyone was always around. My family is like a small village unto itself. And with the 'growing up' everyone started becoming irritating and insufferable or were they always like that and I didn't realize. I found a niche with a group of people who helped me escape temporarily from time to time. My interaction with my family lessened and I would be gone for weekends and public holidays with my new found 'family'. I missed many gatherings of my biological family, but didn't feel as if I was missing out on anything and I couldn't be bothered.
Yet even with the release that these friends bought, I still had to return for extended periods to my family's home and for me the mental anguish was becoming to much for me to bear. Tensions were at an all time high and choices I had made, had caused a degree of unease among the members of my family. I NEEDED TO GET OUT. And so I ran. I found an avenue and with a speed that would make Usain Bolt's head spin, I grabbed it and ran. Placement in a job like mine, for an individual like myself would be easy. I could get to work anywhere I choose, even right within my village. I choose to go as far away from my village as possible, knowing with a measure of confidence that I would be granted an opportunity to work on this side of the country. The justification that I wanted to further my studies and the proximity to the university would be the smoke screen to mask the fact that I was just running away from them.
Trepidation hit, when my inner desires started becoming my reality. I was granted a chance to work 'far' from home (nowhere in my country is far). I didn't know how to tell them and so I stalled for days. I was looking for apartments on this side and still hadn't said a word to my family as regards to me having to move away from them. Inevitably I had to and there was pandemonium all around, how could they send you so far? What will you do? Where will you live? There concerns were endearing but I didn't care, I wanted to shout that I needed to get away from the suffocation which was brought on by you people, but I wasn't that coldhearted one time.
Fast forward to the present, a little more than two years later. I have lived in two other apartments and am now in my third. My family has helped me pack and unpack on each occasion, they still haven't realized that I have run away from them. What used to be my close friend circle has dissipated but I value the ones which has taken its place. However it means that I don't galavant as much as I used to before. I have started going back to school and really now don't have that much time to waste (note to self especially). This week marks one month since I have been 'home', (to be blogged about), the longest I have ever been away from that place while still being in the country. And a scary reality hit me last week. *in whispered tones* I miss them....shhhhhhhhh don't say anything.
My parents came to visit me on Friday and then came again on Sunday afternoon (they miss me as well). My grandmother called, she was checking to make sure everything's okay. In the time that has elapsed since 'running away' I have come to realize that I love my eccentric family, I love that we talk nonsense and it makes sense to us, I love that clowning around seems to be genetic and that everyone has a turn to wear the 'blonde' crown, as unwittingly as that occurrence may be. They may irritate the hell out of me when I am around them for extended periods but in their absence, or rather my absence from them, things really can be boring. (I guess I am more of a sucker than I thought I was) Sociologists talk about primary socialization having the strongest impact on who we become, I really never agreed with that school of thought. I felt secondary socialization was stronger in creating for us an identity we would own as adults.
But truth is were it not for the zany, overly excited, mildly OCD, love to cook, love to eat people who raised me, I certainly would not be the person I am today. It takes running away to realize that fact. I wouldn't regress on my decisions though, I am happy that I am away from them. It is only when we are not interacting with something that we'll realize we miss it. I am now looking forward eagerly to Christmas vacation. I am going to have a 'time' with my jelly beans and hopefully won't have to write an anger management needed post here during that time.
To you who struggle with family issues of your own, my recommendation would be, run! I know it's easier said than done, but if you can and an opportunity exists for you to get away from them even in a temporary sense, do it. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder.
Monday, 3 December 2012
Are you my missing puzzle?
Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror and wondered whose reflection is that staring back at you? Within the last few months I have found myself doing it time and again. It's like in my head I see myself as one way, but what stares back at me in the mirror is totally different. Years ago, I decided to block out lots of events from my memory, they were too painful and not really worth dwelling on. I realized within recent times that I did myself an injustice by blocking them rather than trying to resolve them. They resurfaced and seemed to have come back with a vengeance and as such I believe that the only way to get them out is to write them away. As a teenager I struggled with really low self esteem and a very poor self concept. Horrible acne, early onset polycystic ovaries coupled with weight gain and hirsutism didn't help. Did I mention that the secondary school I was attending was one which was considered the worst in the country and as such I was already labelled a failure? I struggled through it and eventually the acne went away, the weight went down considerably and well the PCOS is somewhat in check these days. I have also gone on to attain success academically, so much so that I am the holder of a 1st Degree and am presently in pursuit of my Masters.
One would think that due to the "drastic improvement" in outward appearance that life would now progress along an easy path. Time and again and more so within recent times I have been told about my beauty, my stateliness, my intelligence, my bubbly disposition and my strength of character. Yet with all of these extrinsic forms of societal approval and visible signs of improvements- academically, socially and physically, I feel as if the person staring back at me in the mirror is a complete stranger.
I feel as if there is a disconnect between what I see and what I sense on the inside. Is she really me? Is this relatively flawless skinned, well groomed (most days) young lady really me? Is this well made up (at times) female the same one who thought make up was clownish and didn't even know where to start applying it, really me? Is this woman staring at me, who now wears heels confidently (when she does) the same child floundering around in her mother's heels, really me?
As I struggle forward my self efficacy and self esteem are in constant limbo, see sawing back and forth between low and high. There is an embittered battle ensuing within my being as I strive for a meshing between my physical appearance and my opinions and view of myself. These days I feel like a piece of a puzzle that has fallen out of its box and in in dire need of locating the box to which it belongs in an effort to find its best suited fit.
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