The fulfillment of prophesy

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.

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.