Life is a funny thing. Not “ha-ha” funny, but the ironic way it seems to turn out. I wasn’t prepared for the life I’ve lived, but I seem to be getting through it. The similarities between the family of my childhood and that of the family I have now are that they are both large families and as of now, like then, financially poor.
The differences are so many that it would take a whole page to fill. I guess the biggest difference that I can see so clearly now, is that there was love in my childhood. My parents loved and respected each other. They spoke often, sometimes in French, usually when they didn’t want us to understand what was being said between them.
The point is, that they communicated. Now that the constant state of confusion and my continued defense mechanisms have been turned off, it’s like I can think about and see in my mind all that I endured. I now wonder, how did I let myself live that way for so long? I am finally free from the constant accusations.
I find myself thinking about other people’s lives when they talk to me. I’m trying to not just hear them, but to feel what they are conveying to me in speech. The pride, when they share things about their family. Their frustrations. Their happiness, and their confusions.
This really helped me to open my own eyes. Being apart of a broader society has helped me to feel more for others. I am now discovering many differences in myself. Like the simpleness of being tired. It’s like it’s a good kind, I earned it. Stress is also different for me. It doesn’t hurt the way the stress did before. I am dealing with the changes and finally feel whole.
It’s me now, doing things my way. I have finally begun to live a life, a life for me. Although I’m working harder, dealing with more of everything, yet have a lot less of everything, I feel richer than ever before. I have found my strength in the destruction of my world.
So I say again, isn’t life funny?