Monday, 15 April 2013
My little girl likes going on about who doesn't wanna be friends with her and who likes giving her "frozen shoulders" as she puts it. and, and, and... But if you've had the opportunity to interact with me on a personal level, you could already guess my response to her complaints.
See, I've lived better part of my life vetting my anger at the Universe for taking certain things from me that I once held so dear, forgetting (or should I say overlooking) the good things it has often swung my way. But you see, that has been me being human.
In my daughter's case, she's allowed to fret over who doesn't like her at school or at the Sunday school, because... err... she's a five-year-old "insecure" girl. 'Insecure' here is in quotes because insecurity isn't something MY daughter should have to undergo for the mere fact that she's so intelligent, beautiful and often has her bitch hat on.
I often tell her, "You're a beautiful girl and beautiful girls like you do not need to seek other people's validation of them because they know what they are worth..." (of course you can imagine how challenging, if not plain hilarious it must be to explain to her what the word 'validation' is.
The point is, we often spend so much of our time worrying about what the next person thinks of us. What we are often unaware of is that the same people, as Ellen Degenerous the comedian and TV host puts it, worry about what we think of them. Funny, huh?
Heck, whatever happened to "live your life"!
In a conversation with a VIP over the weekend, we realised that we have both done some pretty self-destructive behavior in our pasts and we have both had our share of judgement from the holier-than-thous.
As we spoke, it hit me just how angry I still am at them for judging me without ever taking their time to know my story. But then again, I realised that I don't think I'd have wanted them haters to get all up in my business. It did hit me that I have always prefered them thinking of me as Queen B than a saint. It makes life easier, I have always thought. For whom, I have always asked myself. For me, of course, so that I wouldn't have to go through the pain of explaining my actions to whomever, I have always convinced myself.
What I, however, left out in my "mental debate" is that my life is no longer just about me. There's my daughter to think about, there's my health to think about, and then there's the possibility of a life to share with someone else to think about too... now more than ever.
I have often cared less about how my actions might affect those around me. But as from the beginning of this year, I made a pact with God. Told Him that I'd stop all the crazy if He made me better and provided for my little girl.
No kidding; I walked into the doctor's office last Friday and after all the intrusive junk she often does, she took a deep breath, put her equipment on her table and then said, "Go and live your life, honey!"
I suddenly fell a chill down my spine. Then there was a lump in my throat, then my entire life rushed past my mental eye and for the first time in three years, I was scared. And not the kind of scared that makes you wanna hide in the closet, no, it was the kind of scared that makes you wanna stop life just for a minute and start all over again or die all the same! I was damn scared! Scared because it was time to face my realities. Scared because I didn't know how to be happy and the fact that I didn't know that has never bothered me because I have lived for the "now" for a long while now. Scared because I have been pretty [for a lack of a better word] adamant on whether or not to be okay with the feeling of being truly happy. Scared because it was time to stop being bitter and angry for what did or didn't happen in the past. Scared because I do/did not know how to live, love and let someone else love me.
My doctor gave me a tight hug at that particular moment having read the expression on my face, but I was too stiff to hug her back. I could not comprehend what she had just said. Did "go and live your life" mean that I only had a couple of days/weeks/months/years to live and that I should live it to the fullest or did it mean that I was now free of "the bug" (as she likes to call it)!
It is in remission, she said. Of course I'd wanted to hear that word in like forever! Now that I had, I didn't know how it made me feel. So I just decided to take a journey to the inner Vicky. I became dead inside; didn't know whether I was coming or going. Did the routine stuff I usually do and I couldn't find anything to excite me. I still don't know how to deal with "my new situation".
Breathe, girl, I've been telling myself since. I'm too scared to have a proper conversation with anyone at the moment for fear of breaking down, which is so unlike me because I don't like to show my vulnerability to anyone, not even my own daughter. I don't cry. Period! But I think I should, like yesterday, lest I blow up one of these days.
But while I still asses how to live my new life, I'm gonna put my bitch hat on and just live!
While I'm at it, I'm gonna give it my all; no BS, no grey lines, nothing. I'm just gonna live till the clock stops ticking inside. But above all, I'm gonna be happy and discard anything that makes me feel anything but.
Feew! Feels good to let the cat out of the bag, even if it's just its tail showing... for now!
Till the next read, forget what your situation is, just join my team and let's rock life's runway. I'm on #TeamLive and I've got matching shoes and a handbag to go with my bitch hat. What do you have on?
P.S.: Bitch hat here simply means loads of positive attitude to live by each day! :)