Tyranny of the Should's
So I am in this trip with my sister and my kids with a swollen left ankle. How I got the swollen ankle, is a story a lot like my life. And typical of, well, me.
We were in this really nice hotel far north for a meeting with our big bosses. While waiting for them, Maan, my friend and colleague, asked that we go out for a while and buy some stuff from the museum/boutique nearby. So, I went to the washroom first to pee. On my way out of the little girls' room, I did not notice a slight step down from where I was standing, and slipped. Fell down both on my knees, much like a frog, as described by my loving sister, Beks. Beks, by the way, who was there, just sat looking at me and did not move an inch to help me because, she says now, she did not know it was me who slipped. I do not know if that is true, though. I think she was too embarassed to acknowledge it was indeed me.
Two real gentlemen (one of them my bestie who happens to be gay), rushed to me and literally picked me up, like I was a tree felled by a storm. My women colleagues sat me down, and one of the dears massaged the then bulging left ankle in enormous pain (I felt like fainting), put a pack of ice on the 'monstruous-throbbing-vein' there was. If I did not have the right senses then to see that she was actually helping and not inflicting pain, I would have slapped her. I felt like an idiot. There was a sign saying, 'Watch Your Step' right around where I kissed the floor, but I did not see it.
As in my life, I again managed to 'make a scene'. Great. Through that day, all attention was on me. Which is what I have been getting since the day I was born. I don't say that as a bad thing. Except of course during the times in my childhood that I got the flak from my mother when I made mistakes, like for example, telling her I was an honor student. Of course I was an honor student. I was expected to be, a product of two brilliant minds. I thought then that it was an achievement, and that she should have been welling with pride. Well, so much for thinking that. All my medals were awarded to me with my Lola Corazon, without my mother.
The thing is, I worked hard to achieve, because of that attention. I needed to prove a lot. Maybe to show I deserve the attention, or perhaps I needed more. Wait, writing that in the past tense is wrong. I still am trying to prove a lot. I want to be the best I could be in everything. Whatever job I had back then, whether a clerk running errands for the bosses, a telephone operator, a secretary, or a section chief, a division chief, or now, a head of an office, half-baked was, and is not part of my vocabulary. I am also the same with motherhood (and family-hood, if there is such a word), I need to be perfect and in control. Ana, the daughter, says I have this 'tyranny of the should's'. I should do that, do this, etc., that is always my drift. I am so 'should-involved' at times, I do not see the things which matter. Like the 'watch-your-step' sign. Even if I did see that sign, the wires in brain would have just set to make me say to myself, 'naaah, I don't need to watch it, I can handle anything'. Right.
The swollen ankle is a grim reminder of the tyrant I am. I am now so vulnerable, I cannot walk on my own. The agony of walking with one leg is so unbearable, I actually want to buy a wheelchair. And there is this scream at the base of my throat that I am, well, weak. Oh. I can be? That's new. I am not in-charge all the time. I am not perfect. See, I now know I am a tyrant. To my children, my family. I am also one to myself. I drive others crazy by calling all the shots. I beat myself up for not working hard enough to achieve my goals. I have always thought I had the best mind and with that goes, good judgement. Hell, I don't. There were times in my life I fell, I choked and stumbled, because of poor judgement. Too many times. I am just too afraid to admit it. I learned that the hard way. It took a slip and an unforgiving sight of blood clots in my sole to show me.
However, (here comes the typical deep-thinking me), this swollen left ankle sort of nudged me and said 'it's ok to cry in pain because you are not perfect, you are not in-charge all the time, you are human'. So I cried. Because of the pain my swollen ankle was causing me up to my hips and shoulders. I cried because the word 'inadequate' felt like it was carved on my forehead. I cried because there are people, still, who help me up each time I stumble. I cried because I have family and friends who show me they love me, inspite of the tyrant 'me'. I cried because God is so good to me that despite the witch I am, I have a daughter who will graduate from college soon and did not cause me heartbreak (like getting pregnant, stuff like those), although at times she would be so candid, honest and unconsciously hurtful but truthful with her words and actions with me, I wonder at times if I did carry her in my belly. I have a son who is a genius, takes every chance to make me look like an idiot but who hugs me shamelessly each chance he gets, regardless of how little time Mom spends with him. I have sisters who take care of me like one who yells at me, 'you're moving too slow, i need to get upstairs!' while I am struggling to climb up the stairs dragging my left leg with the swollen ankle. Sweet 'no? Or, in the middle of all the pressures I have, another one of them recites this litany of 'can i go with you?, where are you going?, i just need to buy that little black dress?, i need phone credits to call my husband abroad?', blah, blah, blah. Clingy hag, that one is.
So such is my life. For now. I enjoy every bit of it like chocolate. I savor each bite, experience heaven, knowing fully well I will have a migraine attack after. A seesaw of good times and then bad, of joy and then pain, of hatred and then of love, of asking for forgiveness, and to forgive. I will ride with the tide that comes, with each ebb and flow, resist every temptation to be in control. Time to put the tyranny aside and start embracing vulnerability. It is not weakness. The acknowledgement of weaknesses is strength in itself, courage ables one to nurture that strength to do better. I braved the past two days walking the malls, the streets of Manila, with a swollen ankle and a wooden cane. But I have faith. This swollen ankle will heal. Like those other wounds and bruises I have caused others. And those I have inflicted on myself. All will heal. All will heal. All will heal.
We were in this really nice hotel far north for a meeting with our big bosses. While waiting for them, Maan, my friend and colleague, asked that we go out for a while and buy some stuff from the museum/boutique nearby. So, I went to the washroom first to pee. On my way out of the little girls' room, I did not notice a slight step down from where I was standing, and slipped. Fell down both on my knees, much like a frog, as described by my loving sister, Beks. Beks, by the way, who was there, just sat looking at me and did not move an inch to help me because, she says now, she did not know it was me who slipped. I do not know if that is true, though. I think she was too embarassed to acknowledge it was indeed me.
Two real gentlemen (one of them my bestie who happens to be gay), rushed to me and literally picked me up, like I was a tree felled by a storm. My women colleagues sat me down, and one of the dears massaged the then bulging left ankle in enormous pain (I felt like fainting), put a pack of ice on the 'monstruous-throbbing-vein' there was. If I did not have the right senses then to see that she was actually helping and not inflicting pain, I would have slapped her. I felt like an idiot. There was a sign saying, 'Watch Your Step' right around where I kissed the floor, but I did not see it.
As in my life, I again managed to 'make a scene'. Great. Through that day, all attention was on me. Which is what I have been getting since the day I was born. I don't say that as a bad thing. Except of course during the times in my childhood that I got the flak from my mother when I made mistakes, like for example, telling her I was an honor student. Of course I was an honor student. I was expected to be, a product of two brilliant minds. I thought then that it was an achievement, and that she should have been welling with pride. Well, so much for thinking that. All my medals were awarded to me with my Lola Corazon, without my mother.
The thing is, I worked hard to achieve, because of that attention. I needed to prove a lot. Maybe to show I deserve the attention, or perhaps I needed more. Wait, writing that in the past tense is wrong. I still am trying to prove a lot. I want to be the best I could be in everything. Whatever job I had back then, whether a clerk running errands for the bosses, a telephone operator, a secretary, or a section chief, a division chief, or now, a head of an office, half-baked was, and is not part of my vocabulary. I am also the same with motherhood (and family-hood, if there is such a word), I need to be perfect and in control. Ana, the daughter, says I have this 'tyranny of the should's'. I should do that, do this, etc., that is always my drift. I am so 'should-involved' at times, I do not see the things which matter. Like the 'watch-your-step' sign. Even if I did see that sign, the wires in brain would have just set to make me say to myself, 'naaah, I don't need to watch it, I can handle anything'. Right.
The swollen ankle is a grim reminder of the tyrant I am. I am now so vulnerable, I cannot walk on my own. The agony of walking with one leg is so unbearable, I actually want to buy a wheelchair. And there is this scream at the base of my throat that I am, well, weak. Oh. I can be? That's new. I am not in-charge all the time. I am not perfect. See, I now know I am a tyrant. To my children, my family. I am also one to myself. I drive others crazy by calling all the shots. I beat myself up for not working hard enough to achieve my goals. I have always thought I had the best mind and with that goes, good judgement. Hell, I don't. There were times in my life I fell, I choked and stumbled, because of poor judgement. Too many times. I am just too afraid to admit it. I learned that the hard way. It took a slip and an unforgiving sight of blood clots in my sole to show me.
However, (here comes the typical deep-thinking me), this swollen left ankle sort of nudged me and said 'it's ok to cry in pain because you are not perfect, you are not in-charge all the time, you are human'. So I cried. Because of the pain my swollen ankle was causing me up to my hips and shoulders. I cried because the word 'inadequate' felt like it was carved on my forehead. I cried because there are people, still, who help me up each time I stumble. I cried because I have family and friends who show me they love me, inspite of the tyrant 'me'. I cried because God is so good to me that despite the witch I am, I have a daughter who will graduate from college soon and did not cause me heartbreak (like getting pregnant, stuff like those), although at times she would be so candid, honest and unconsciously hurtful but truthful with her words and actions with me, I wonder at times if I did carry her in my belly. I have a son who is a genius, takes every chance to make me look like an idiot but who hugs me shamelessly each chance he gets, regardless of how little time Mom spends with him. I have sisters who take care of me like one who yells at me, 'you're moving too slow, i need to get upstairs!' while I am struggling to climb up the stairs dragging my left leg with the swollen ankle. Sweet 'no? Or, in the middle of all the pressures I have, another one of them recites this litany of 'can i go with you?, where are you going?, i just need to buy that little black dress?, i need phone credits to call my husband abroad?', blah, blah, blah. Clingy hag, that one is.
So such is my life. For now. I enjoy every bit of it like chocolate. I savor each bite, experience heaven, knowing fully well I will have a migraine attack after. A seesaw of good times and then bad, of joy and then pain, of hatred and then of love, of asking for forgiveness, and to forgive. I will ride with the tide that comes, with each ebb and flow, resist every temptation to be in control. Time to put the tyranny aside and start embracing vulnerability. It is not weakness. The acknowledgement of weaknesses is strength in itself, courage ables one to nurture that strength to do better. I braved the past two days walking the malls, the streets of Manila, with a swollen ankle and a wooden cane. But I have faith. This swollen ankle will heal. Like those other wounds and bruises I have caused others. And those I have inflicted on myself. All will heal. All will heal. All will heal.
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