I grew up in a somewhat dysfunctional family. One parent couldn’t show affection appropriately and the other seemed to avoid us. Hah! How would I know love even if it slapped me sideways?
I didn’t believe in the L word. I believed in lust, I believed in all the submission to urges but I could not phantom anyone finding the time to love me or show enough affection to call it love.
I had a big crush and he was actually quite perfect for me. Too many mistakes were made and we did not end up together. The mistakes were mostly mine.
Today I will let IT go. What is IT? The person haunting me for the last 25 years. It’s a long time. So it’s definitely time to do it.
I think in order to let it go, I need to start at the beginning. Just to take a trip around the memory lane before finally putting the coffin into the furnace (not ground because I’m Hindu like that).
Do I start at the point of falling in love with the first love, without realizing what was happening? Do I start at the point of fucking it up for the second time? Do I start when we were supposed to be together in my head?
Or shall I start with my fears that led to the end of the beginning?
This may be the most appropriate start as I need to look at my younger self and forgive her for her immaturity, pride and fear. I said today that I didn’t like her…. it’s not true, I really love her. I just felt disappointed in her conviction to have nothing to do with men…. or boys ðŸ¤
Seventeen….16.5 if you want accuracy. I can remember how awkward and shy I was. I would never admit to those attributes and show a lot of bravado. A cousin recently described me as being “prickly on the outside”. I was Self conscious and still wanting love underneath it all. Although, that’s not something I could admit to wanting. I needed to be independent, strong and focused on my final year in school. My thoughts were of proving myself to my family and still enjoy my final school year….. didn’t need a boy for that. Enjoy my extra activities like Choir, Interact club, Editorial club, photography club, taekwando.. haha i had a lot of input everywhere and I guess that made me known. I was confident in myself but unsure when it came to boys. I was comfortable with friendship.
The fear started much earlier. My parents were disappointed in me often but when it came to my safety, I found they were the disappointing ones. I had to find a way to keep myself safe. The easiest way was not to get too close to anyone. I had many friends but no best friend. I kept everyone slightly apart from me. I didn’t remember that until this moment!
I held a lot of anger from two distinct events in my life before 17. None of it were dealt with in a healthy way. I won’t get into that now. I do want to note clearly that I no longer hold my parents in anger or responsibility for their handling of these events, but it led me to realise I can’t trust anyone, even my parents. I didn’t feel safe and I did not trust anyone. Least of all…. a boy!!!👦
Mind you, I didn’t know a boy well enough to feel unsafe. There was also some projection from watching my father and uncles to realise I did not want to be someone’s slave. Well, when I did know a boy well enough, he made me feel safe, I started trusting him and eventually I wished to open myself to him, but it was too late. I had already pushed him far away and into someone else’s arms. He grew feelings for someone else in a significant place, my favourite temple. He fell for a beautiful girl. My male cousin told me and my heart broke for the first time. Realisation came later as to how strong these feelings were. There was a strong emotional bondage formed along the landline conversations we shared. This emotional bond have held for more than half our lives. It’s time to let go.
Our families must have known what was happening since there is no privacy when you use a phone attached to a landline. They never spoke to me about it. I wonder if his parents did… Maybe he had better guidance in love than I ever did. I only ever had inexperienced people guiding my uncharted love life.
He definitely had more experience than I ever had at 17. He already had a girlfriend before being introduced to me. Yes he was “introduced” to me. I’m not sure I remember the details correctly and it’s just as well when I let him go. His ex had cheated on him so he didn’t want to get into another relationship but wanted to go for the prom with someone. So I was the “someone” because I was going alone….by choice, pride and pure glee. I love that about my 17 year old self. I still love her and feel for her. Back to the story, I think I agreed to a phone call to get to know him because at the core of my being, all I truly wanted was, someone to love me for who I was….to let me feel safe, to have those feelings without fear that it would all go pear shape and I wouldn’t recover.
Day 2
So I had some time to think this post through. What am I trying to say? I am not saying I never loved him….I’ve loved him so dearly for 24 years…. This does not mean I don’t love my partner, I do. It’s just different, I dont mean to hurt said partner, and thats not what this is about.
What I do want; is to finally be vulnerable (ironically in my anonymity), expose my heart on my sleeve and then let the childhood relationship plus all the distracting thoughts, the regrets, the hurt and the sadness, go. Just let it all go.
Healing needs to happen and I feel like blogging anonymously may help me heal. Hopefully I can trust a few people to read it, but thats unlikely for now. I wish he could read it, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I am not sure if it will clarify things for us or confuse things further. I just want to heal, for us to move forward without carrying each other in our hearts. I can’t speak for him. He only ever showed me a sign of interest once. Never before or ever again. This was also after his hurtful cheating-breakup with his ex. A second cheating ex, (whom I introduced him to) and I had a slight feeling there may have been feelings for her lingering and I would not have recovered from being used instead of loved. Not from him.
I nearly typed his name several times during this blog. I love that name. When I say it my heart does a little flutter. Yes, I never show this side of me. The corny, soft, deliciously loving side. Only my child sees it and will continue to. Yes I have an offspring too. This blog is not out to hurt them either, that’s not what this is about. If anything, it’s about our children’s future to be free of these feelings and history.
Back to his name… I remember all the crazy things my friends used to do to link our names. I never gave myself permission to like him. I just felt unworthy at times (I still feel like he is out of my league). I didn’t have great self-esteem. I was a heavy built 17 year old with geeky glasses, messy curly hair and a lot of attitude. Prickly af. I had a good high wall, shields up, “on guard “… I had some clothes which were age appropriate. Just jeans and t-shirts. Wish I had bothered with my looks a lot more but I just didn’t. So there I was, geeky, goofy and heavy built. He was tall, lanky, deepset intense gaze and a very wry half smile on his face. He was clever with words, he was a debater. He wasn’t a jock or one of those so-called “cool” guys. I was just taken by him and all he had to say. We may have been too intense for each other though. I had a temper and I could tell he had one well managed one too. I didn’t see it until I was 24 and hastily stopped his advances. Oh what a pity. One of my greatest regrets was stopping the kiss because of fear. More on that later.
Back to healing! I’m hoping typing out this “essay” would allow me to move on. I am saying goodbye in my own way. If someone were to read this with judgement in their heart, I am sure I will be the villain. However, I have forgiven myself for loving someone though most likely unrequited. I feel that love is a lot bigger than anything or anyone else. It’s such a strong connection. Later in life, a close friend used to be angry when I met up with him. He and I always made the effort to see one another when he or I were in the same city. Nothing untoward would happen. We always had our friendship and respect for one another. That’s saying a lot. Hence the difficulty to let him go, let the love and pain go too. OK almost nothing untoward. I was reminded of our almost-kiss.
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbouR
Isn’t that what the good book says? Version 1 I think.
Day 4
There are parts of the healing that need to happen that have never even been voiced out. Sex is not discussed in my culture and not in an open forum. Growing older means being able to let go of unhealthy cultural norms. Sex is an important part of life. I have never had sex with him in reality but there have been many, many fantasies. It’s not unhealthy. It’s just, lust, love and everything in between. Yes I loved him and I wanted to have sex with him but I couldn’t admit either until after he almost kissed me.
When we were 24, we met because his brother was in hospital. I felt so worried for his brother. OK honestly I was worried about him. I was conflicted and unsure if I should visit. It was also a hospital I had never driven to and didn’t want to go alone. I mentioned it to my two friends from my postgraduate class who jumped at the opportunity to do something different. These two always brought light into my life. Yet, I didn’t tell them about him either. I didn’t think things through. We visited, my friends came along and I hope I didn’t upset his brother. I’m glad I met his family very randomly though. I always wanted to. Although, that’s quite selfish in retrospect 🙄
Anyway, he asked to meet up for dinner that night and I was keen. I even asked my friends to join us and they seemed confused by this and declined. I asked him to meet me at my favorite place in Bangsar. It was this private, shisha place with really yummy cocktails and nice food. I went there all the time. Until that night. I never went there again, maybe subconsciously but I think I always knew why.
We had lovely food, shared a shisha pipe, and talked like we always did. Suddenly he changed position and moved towards me. All my self-preservation feelings came up and I got scared again. This beautiful incredible man could break me into little pieces and I’ll never recover.
Prior to that, we had just spoken about how his ex had cheated on him and then married some rich man from overseas. I thought how perfect he was and he didn’t know this. I knew his ex and she was always conscious of not having enough money. There were always comments made. He must have felt this need to chase money but I hope he knows he was always enough as he was. I think I told him about my ex. I had my heart broken badly by one but I had finally recovered after returning from the USA. This lovely man would have been on a totally different level had I needed to recover from him.
When he moved towards me for a kiss, I looked at him and smelt him and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to walk away intact. I wasn’t ready and was not expecting him to make a move. I always felt he was going to take something from me and I wouldn’t survive. Almost against my will, my hand went up against his chest and I asked myself if I would regret this. My mouth and throat was dry and I felt only fear. My heart sinks as I type this out. I remember fear holding me back. This beautiful man, with an intense gaze looked hurt. I asked to preserve our friendship, not knowing it was already shattered. He asked about the shisha place and thought I was seducing him. I was honestly shocked at that accusation, as I still remained stupidly geeky and naive. He pointed out how romantic the setting of the place was, with us lying around on throw pillows, very intimate and private areas for each couple or group. The lighting was dim and it was pretty much a sexy place to be. I think my perspective of the place changed in that moment and I never set foot there again.
I felt like my heart would explode. I was scared and also unsure if he liked me or just the idea of pissing off his ex. We had not been in contact much over the last 7 years because we have been in two different states, whilst he worked in a different country. I always wished things could have worked out, but he was always with someone. His relationships were always crazy long term ones. 7 years then 10years which ended up in marriage. My longest one was a 3 year long distance relationship and the other long one was a 4 year long distance relationship. In summary, I like to keep things distant and I don’t let anyone in. Although that’s exactly what I wished and craved. Sadly I have subconsciously chosen someone who is as distant as they come. It’s OK because we have this beautiful blessing now.
The most painful moment in my life
I keep digressing. My almost 💋 was like an unbelievable dream. I look back at that moment often and realise its a deciding moment in our lives. When I lifted my hand to his chest I could have pulled him in for the kiss but I had no thoughts, only fear of falling to bits.
Yes I went to the prom with him at 17, he was my friend. I knew my cousin, his date, all their friends and their dates would be at our table. Im not sure what I was doing, but I really dressed up. I wore this sexy black spaghetti strapped dress, sexy high heels (which I was not used to so it hurt the hell out of me). I wore makeup and spent money to put my hair up for the night. This took hours! I would never have done that for just anyone. I also intended to tell him how I felt that night. I didn’t know how but I wanted to. I think it was the first time I felt that I was beautiful. Also the first time I was actually going out with a boy to an event.
I have to say, the clearest memories of that night was when he sent me home. The moment we had in the car, after prom, where he proceeded to tell me he has been with his girlfriend for a few weeks but didn’t tell me. This just crushed me. Oh have I not blogged about that moment?
I remember that moment even more keenly. I wanted to tell him that I liked him and I screwed up because I didn’t know I had feelings until it was too late. He beat me to it. All I could do was nod my head and get out of there as quickly as I could. My heart was in my high heeled 👠shoes. I dropped my camera onto the road, one of those old fashioned ones which required film to be developed. The camera smashed open and exposed the film. No pictures from the night were recovered. I had my memories but most of them were not good. The whole night sucked. The food was not good. The music was great though, since my friends were the artists. My date was secretly already going out with someone else. My cousin was no fun. He was totally caught up in his own bubble with his new girlfriend too. My date didn’t really dance with me because I had said over and over again that I was ticklish and not sure how we would dance together. So he held his hands behind his back as I danced with him like an idiot. I guess this was also because he was with someone else. I felt quite terribly deceived.
Retrospectively, this was a 17yo boy who was probably much more sexually advanced than I was. I’m not sure it would have been a good idea for naive geeky 17yo self to have ended up with someone so much more sexy and sure of himself. Plus his age would mean he would not necessarily been looking at love, but gosh he found it with her. They were together for 7 years for God’s sake!
I guess I was not expecting him to tell me at that almost-kiss shisha episode that he had broken up after 7 years. I thought he would tell me he was getting married or something similar. He never once spoke up about having feelings for me. So it was also reasonable to stop the kiss 💋 from happening. I just was not prepared. After that he refused to let me send him home. Yet I really wanted to talk to him. We spoke later and he was super respectful, but I don’t know honestly whether he held that night against me. We were never the same again.
May… the month of May. How I wish I could swipe left and move on to the next month.
You remind me every year of my beautiful spirited cousin, and how she isn’t with me.
All the laughter we shared and all the dreams we prayed for, over some good coffee and muffin made warm. My heart darkens when May comes. As my mind wanders, I see you in the glistening sunlight, the sharp flap of the birds wings, a perfumed smell, a bright coloured lipstick… When I window shop, which I hate, I can almost hear you prodding me to get those heels and try this or that on.
May makes me think of the time you were lying in that hospital bed…self-induced coma. Never knew there was such an option. Our family unraveled from day 1. Cousins, aunts, friends, brother, husband and even an ex-lover, rallied around you. You were a sister more than a cousin. I knew your secrets and you knew mine. You and your cancer were the reason I lost my virginity. You and your cancer was the reason I lost my sanity. I was angry, sad, confused and lost. I could have done with a chat with you about what was happening. Instead, we left so much unsaid. You had new secrets with everyone else. You asked for everyone’s time for one on one chats. I wondered when ours would come. When you finally asked me for time, you asked me to keep your reentry to the hospital a secret from another person. That was all. Nothing special or kind about that chat. Instead I found joy in the days when we just sat around together doing nothing. One night your brother made a long distance call to ask me to stay the night with you. I had just returned from a long distance drive as well. I was late to go over. He called again. When I got there you were fine. We held hands, we watch Greys Anatomy and admired Dr. McDreamy or McSteamy, as always. As you fell asleep I counted my blessings. I hated hospitals but you were there.
Today, 11 years after your passing, I still love you. I know your weaknesses. Your stubbornness at keeping grudges. Your anger and blind loyalty. None of which I liked of you. Yet you were loving, kind, gentle and brimming with energy. It surge forth with every hug you shared. You may not have liked your wide berth, but your hugs were amazing envelopes of love. In Asian cultures that didn’t hug, I appreciated them more than anyone else’s. They were wholesome goodness.
Lockdown has brought about too much time and ability to introspect. Often I find myself asking, “What really matters in this little time we have on earth?”. My partner is driven, works hard, has no communication with me, we are as distant as two planets living under one roof. The only thing we can relate to together is our dog and we love him unconditionally. Even then, he thinks he knows best how to raise our sweet dog.
I realised during this lockdown how I truly hate myself with my partner. I am not blaming him for how I feel about myself.
I realise a lot of it is because I feel incompetent and I feel like I constantly have to justify who I am and what I need to do.
What am I doing?
Why am I here?
I just saw 10 episodes of Mindy-Kaling’s “Never Have I Ever” and ended up crying. I miss the possibilities and the hope of happiness. I feel none is coming and all has been lost for so long. I can’t even remember why I am staying. I keep telling myself its because I love him. Do I? Or is it easier to stay? It may be both.
Reaching 40 is strange. As a teen, I saw children and laughter, conversations, and silliness. Instead, I see none of that in my future.
Who am I? My identity seemed clear before. On one hand, I know where I want to be in my studies and career.
Why is it so hard to see my personal life? Its like getting married ended all meaning to the relationship. Ended all meaning of who I am. Maybe its just me. I need to find value in myself. Not to rely on him so much. Not to be so dependent on him. I couldn’t help it at first. I migrated here for him…. Or was it for myself?
So I blame myself for feeling this way. For living this way. I have no way of understanding what this means in the end. Does it mean I hate myself so much that I should relieve him of my existence or I love myself so much that I deserve to leave and find happiness?
Sex is a difficult topic to talk about. No one talks about the lack of sex as a major event in a marriage. I never had this problem before marriage, so I didn’t think it would suddenly happen. I also didn’t know that I had to marry a man who matched my sexual need level. I know my lack of interest now is because I feel so undesirable that I cant seem to phantom sexiness or desire.
Yet, I was very sexually desirable and interested in my 20s. Yes I am a late bloomer. I had no interest until I was about 17 years old. Is it sad to wish I could go back in time and have more sex, knowing I would not have any later in my 30s?
God this post is getting sadder by the sentence. Its almost funny. I would go back in time and bang the boy I wanted to. We were both 17, but I was the epitome of awkward teen. I was a little heavy but happy with myself, I didn’t have a problem with my body image at all. I loved my very rotund, clever, tall and awkward, but happy self.
The cool girls were the obvious group, yet I had no interest to be any of them. Glad I didn’t grow up in a Western teen tv series with the ethnic minorities totally missing, the boys were jocks and the girls were giggly, only interested in boys and unrealistically beautiful. Nope. I had a school full of rigorously competitive school girls, all trying to outbest each other in academia, sport and/or musical ability.
So all that being more important, I didn’t realise I was being set up with a boy by my cousin. I was just told that he didn’t have a date for the prom and I, being my superbly cool independent self, I wanted to go alone. Why? Well I never liked the idea of a girl waiting for some guy to ask her to go with her. Instead I was asked by a cousin of mine to do a favour for a recently heartbroken, broken up guy who didn’t have a date because his girl cheated on him with some super cool, yet short, guy (who still is really radically cool). In the 90s, shortness was the inexcusable uggels for me. Very old school and I must say, pretty outdated now.
Well this match up turned out to calling me and I called him in return. Then I was smitten and didn’t know it. Didnt think anything of it. What could I do about it? How could he like me back?
He saw my friend and suddenly couldn’t stop talking about her. Funny thing about this girl, so many people think we look alike, even before yummy boy saw her. Except she was really sexy. She used her curves to her advantage, even at 17.
Yup, I was awkward as fuck for longer than necessary. Jeans and t-shirts for most of my teen life. Sigh sad. I would go back in time and change that too.
Sexier clothes, better haircut, wear some simple makeup, bang the boys or learn to at least. Damn…. what a waste.
So he took me for the prom and took me home at the end of the night, before 12 as my father demanded. However, in the car he told me he had a girlfriend. He didn’t want me to know that as we promised to go together. I felt my heart sink. I was beautiful that night. I had worn a beautiful sexy black strappy dress with strappy shoes, my hair was all done up. I even wore makeup. What would have happened had I asked him how he felt about me? What would have happened if I had leaned over and kissed him?
Instead I walked into my house and cried my heart out in the shower. I even dropped my camera when I was walking towards my gate. I was so heartbroken.
Yes, he would be the first one I would bang back in the 90s even though he had fallen for another chick instead of me. That was really all my fucking up. I pushed him away as much as any human could have done. Remember? I set him up with this chick!
OMG I must have been out of my insane mind. Like one of those stupid western movies. Yes I watched too many movies and tv essentially. Now if you hear Pink’s, “The One That Got Away”, you would totally understand how I felt about not having this yummy boy to myself. Sadly I didnt even know what was yummy except that I really didnt think anyone else was yummy. I didnt have the guts of all those amazing heroines though, I could not make myself vulnerable. Nope. Not until 2019 when I heard he would be getting married.
So the year 2020 has started and a month has gone.
What have I learned in the past year?
What have I learned??? Hmm … I keep forgetting my lessons and they keep presenting themselves to me. 2018 I had a fall and neck injury. 2019 I had a car crash which resulted in a concussion, neck injury, headaches and the need to have a baby. Strange huh… but along with not dying was a sense to start living. May is always a learning month for me. I wonder what it holds for me this time.
2018-2020 are the length of my Masters. I hope to complete it successfully this year. I’m also hoping to get IVF treatment this year. Too many things? Well I have no real choice in either. I’m getting older and I want both. I believe I can do it.
The lesson was to have faith in myself. The Goddess Kali came to me in my dreams, in poems and in pictures. She is powerful, inspiring and can cause much fear in mere mortals. I have not known her in my spiritual path…. yet she came. Shakti, Shiva’s other half. Tantric and cosmic, sexual and magnificent. Brilliant dark powerful beauty…. she entrances me. She holds me in her gaze. She has ensnared me within her will. I am hers as she is mine.
Dont judge her before you know her. Wiser people have shown fear from ignorance rather than love from knowledge.
I am currently in Malaysia taking a Light Railway Transit (LRT) to Bangsar Station. I’m looking at very selfish people sitting in seats that should be given to people carrying kids, older people but no one is getting up to give them the seat. How shameful. There are kids about to fall over and the younger, able bodied Malaysians couldn’t be bothered. They are all on their phones, watching videos and being self-absorbed. Is this the future generations to come?
Its hard to look inward to find “the Self” and to understand who I truly am. I have been suffering lately, inwardly. My partner keeps asking what is wrong and I cant seems to explain it. Its the rumble in the soul. Its the disturbance in my spirit. My yin and yang are not balanced. My sadness is intense at times at time, then its a quiet hum in the background of my unbalanced life.
The spirit is a wreck. I am totally messed up. I wait for the day I find some grasp on my life. I keep searching for my life to find meaning, purpose, some consistency. The lotus has always fascinated me. Its resilience and strength in such a miserable place. Very little likelihood of survival, yet it thrives. So how do I do the same?
In the last 4.5 years I’ve migrated because of love. Left my life, left my family, left my career. I left everything for my partner. I left a lot of hope, belief, faith and love squarely on the shoulders of one person. Some would say that wouldn’t be a fair expectation to place on a new partner. Some would say I made my own choice. I would say I never expected to be disappointed so deeply, profusely and incredibly. So completely left alone. I had to question who I was… I still do. I lost confidence, happiness and my sense of self. I’m still quite certainly lost.
Migration, a new marriage, new living conditions, new so-called family, living with a mother in-law who seemed to like me but didn’t when I migrated and lived with her, a brother in-law and sister in-law who watched me suffer but didn’t say a thing to stop it or help in any way, no career to talk about as I could not get a job for the longest time in spite being very successful in my birth country….. not sure if I should go on. Sounds like a litany of complaints except the point when I was suicidal and wanted to end it all. I feel these things were all going on at the same time and so it was hard to process. Alone.
My friendships were all long distance except for one. I wish I had better perspective, but maybe Ill gain it as I write my pain. I believe we are all made equal. Our souls are equal. My thoughts; we are all made of the same power / energy / spirit, hence we are all equal. Yet when we are born, we are on a different level of learning. We all have different steps to take to get the path which leads to light, joy, love, enlightenment and all those wonderful things.
For now, I know I have a long way to go to get there. I need to get past the pain and work towards some sense of self. Like the lotus represents spirituality, my heart will somehow go on. My spirit will somehow push through the mud that is the lives we keep living and hopefully there are little hints or signs as to where the path to light leads. Please share any clues/comments you have on how to get there…..
Even a lotus needs mud to live. Beauty amidst utter miserable mud.
I guess I have taken time to realise I need to write out my pain. Today it’s the beginning of February 2017 and I feel lost and listless. I wish I were a stronger individual. What happened to my hopes and dreams? Yesterday a friend suggested I was settling for less because I always wanted a child and now I don’t seem to anymore. Were these my hopes and dreams ? A child? Is that why I feel like a failure or that I can’t get out of bed, or that I am feeling crushed by the weight of something sitting firmly on my chest?
I think it’s not a baby/offspring that keeps me sad. I think my loneliness can’t be explained. No one needs me. So why am I here?
The beauty I see around me seems so tainted by the  reality of my loneliness.
Small onions 10
Coconut milk
Venthiam
Garlic 2pips
Fry onions in oil
Add Venthiam fry for a while
Add curry leave if have and fry
Pour 2cups of water add salt and fish curry powder let boil add santana and let boil until most of the water dries up.
A parent has the ultimate influence on a child. Joy, pride, disappointment or derision. My mother always compared my sister or cousins against me. I always fell short. Always. I noticed but didn’t know the extent to which this hurt me. When I was 10, I finally did well. I was 3rd in my class and 7th in my whole grade. My impressionable memory was at the award ceremony at my school. I was waiting to get my trophy and so we were all waiting in line with our parents standing a little bit away. Only my mother came and I had a feeling she didn’t want to be there. I remember my nervousness, yet feeling proud that I did well. My best friend, Chong SG was the best. First in the whole grade and I was so incredibly proud of this light-brown haired beauty. Her mother was talking to mine. Whilst I was trying to quiet the noise in my head and the nerves, I stopped and heard it clearly. I think I didn’t believe it. My mother’s disappointment at hearing my best friend who had 5 other siblings and whose father was a lorry driver did immensely well. I heard her asking again what number Chong got overall. I was sure I heard the question already hanging in the air. “Why didn’t you do that well?”.
Instead, my nerves quieted down, I remember quietly getting my prize after Chong and the person who got number 2. I was 3. A good number but always not good enough for my mother.
When it was time to go, my mother managed to ask a friend to give us a ride home. I remember it so clearly. The sun streaming through the window down the back seat of the car where I sat and my mother’s accusing voice, sounding quite ashamed, telling her friend that I only got number 7th in the whole grade.
My hurt was instant. I had to keep myself from crying. The pain rising to my throat and nearly spilling out of my lashes. I realised I only had myself. I was alone. My sister would later tell me I wasn’t in the best class so it was easy to get number 3. I couldn’t tell her about being 7th because my mother had already condemned the position unacceptable. My father was a distant man. Careless with his children’s upbringing or life. He only noticed or tried to be a father once we had left school and started clubbing.
It hurts even now. This memory ruined my self belief. My sense of family. It also links with all my rage in my teens as the holidays following this school awards I was condemned to a 12 day “holiday” with a witch. But that’s another story for another day.
All Made Equal 