My therapist asked me why I stayed for so long in places where I was abandoned. I couldn't give her any answer.
After beating myself up over my bad decisions, I realized that despite everything, this patience is a sign that I still have it in me.
The strength to do the impossible alone, the power to save the day I thought only workaholics in their early 20s have. I can persevere through pressure from men almost twice my age and three times my salary. I can sell billions worth of ideas when I have no one to depend on. I can put up with shits like being taught how to meditate when I need immediate solutions because the presentation is coming in 4 hours. But I can’t persevere through the crippling fear I have of changes, of different people and different pace. I kept waiting for a time when things would get better — when I would have someone I could depend on. When I can stop being the one who carries everything despite having someone paid so much more to help me. When I would stop being abandoned like when I was a child and I had no other option than to stick around and wait for my parents to come home and love me again.
After beating myself up over my bad decisions, I realized that despite everything, this patience is a sign that I still have it in me.
The loving, nurturing side I thought had died years ago and was replaced by the cold machine-like mechanism filling the gaps of it.
I put up with bottling up my tears like a bottle of gin I hide in my room, and let them out only when I’m alone because I know he’s busy living his life, everything was fine and easy and he would want me to keep it that way. I put up with waiting for the time when I finally would be the first person to take to the movies instead of waiting for my turn after everyone else on top of the list said no. I kept my weekends empty in case he would visit and needed a hug. I waited for a chance when I could text him to help me with my small decisions like he always did because maybe there will come a time when I can trust that I’m a part of his life as much as he’s a part of mine. When I can ask him for small things, he would actually be there. There will come a time when I can be someone he actually wants to take care of even in my worst times and worst behavior, too. Not when it’s easy enough to solve, or easy enough to brush off. I knew he could do that to other people, but why not me?
But the most important part is that I still have it in me to give the same loving, nurturing side for me. So I left the place where I felt abandoned.
Years late is still better than never.
Maybe it’s just my fate to be left independent and handle things on my own. Maybe it’s written in my name, in my order of birth, in what’s between my legs — and the dominoes that fall in the form of the society in response to what’s there. It’s so easy to dwell on the question of “why me, 3 times in a lifetime?” Until I realize that everyone is facing the same thing. It’s the lesson one’s born to learn in one lifetime, perhaps. And it sticks with us like some invisible cosmic twin that people wrote ghost stories about. Some keep being cheated on after watching their parents cheat on each other. Some deal with persistent anger and manipulative behavior passed down through generations. Mine happens to be being left alone, so maybe in this lifetime, my mission is to learn to stop being alone.
Maybe it’s time, by some cosmic power I’m being held accountable for every small thing that I do. Maybe I’m being guided for some sort of a spiritual awakening. It’s time to save my day for once.
And I know I have it in me, I’ve handled so many things alone, so why not this one?
