Nobody Ever Asked Me What It's Like To Be Me

I had an interesting week before accepting that it is now December. Another year is about to be over, and it seems like it went by so fast. Each month was marked by joy, sorrow, helplessness, anxiety, sewn together by a myriad of emotions that one who would have watched my life like a movie would probably leave the theater and say, 'I'm glad that torturous drama is over.' I can actually hear the comments on the sidelines: 'The f--k did she do that for?'; or 'Oh that is so stupid of her, to make that decision.'; or 'Ok, now she is overdoing it, she is desperately seeking for attention.'; or 'She is a bi--ch, this woman.'; or 'She is so pitiful this woman.'; and of course, the perennial 'If I were in her place, I would....'.

Exactly. If others would be in my place. I honestly put on a rewind, my life, in my brain. This year perhaps the most intense rewind of all time. And I asked myself the same questions my  imaginary viewers would have asked. I am still looking for the answers, though. In my search for the answers, I reached out for help. I prayed, cried my heart out to God. I went further by 'talking' to someone from the 'outside looking in', just so I will have a 'balanced' perception of well, me, and my life. 

I told my new friend, 'Sometimes I wish I were just plain stupid, you know? Be just an idiot. So that I will not be in so much pain and turmoil most of the time.' She calmly told me in reply, 'You are not stupid and you are not an idiot. You are who you are. This is a journey, your life is a journey. Continue having that journey even if you are vulnerable to turmoil and pain. Because your vulnerability simply means you love with all your heart. Everyone. Everything. If you are not vulnerable, then you do not know love the way it should be.'

I guess. I cried buckets watching a movie (this is a real one), 'The Help'. It was about the plight of the black women who worked as maids for rich families in the countryside of the states. And this one character in the movie was Aibilee (it sounded like that, am not sure if I spelled her name right), a black woman who was tasked to raise a white little girl who called her, 'my second mama'. She loved the littel girl more than just like a nanny would and taught her three things she should remember always; 'you is kind, you is smart, you is important'. Because she was vocal about the obvious discrimination in her neighborhood, she was fired from her work, the family she worked for set her up and accused her of stealing some pieces of silver. She left the house, with the little girl she raised reciting the three lines Aibilee taught echoing behind her. Aibilee was talking to herself as she was walking home, and said 'Nobody ever asked me what it is like to be me.'

Yes. I realized that, Nobody has ever asked me what it is like to be me.  Maybe if they do ask, and I will freely give the answers, all their snide remarks on the drama I am cast in everyday life, would be less rude and morally-upright. Meantime I wait. For someone to ask me that question. And for someone who will hold my hand and tell me, 'I don't care, no questions; as long as you are okay, I'm okay.'