I Was Three Years Old Then
I am today a 23 years old person. Old enough to be called a woman, but actually not that mature enough to hold the title. Well, apparently I find that paying all the bill by yourself, getting everything you want by yourself, solving all the occurring problem by yourself doesn't give me a wildcard to get that title directly.
On some days I still find myself thinking some relevant reasons to not going to work which eventually lead me to only lay there in bed all day, and that is neglecting my one of easiest responsibility in order to be called as a mature person. On some other days, I find myself crying for not getting the food I've been craving for days, may it because I don't have some companion to go with, or simply because it's been raining heavily the whole day and I really consider the spectacles the delivery man should face only to fulfill my craving, and that is trying so hard to not being selfish but end up unhappy about it which is not a very mature action.
Look back to days when my mum was my age, she had me, already three. I was probably in the phase where I can't really stay still. Walking here and there, pointing at stuff, keep asking what's this and that in my mumbling words. That I can imagine is not a very easy thing to do for mum (well, if it's comparing to how I behave now as a 23 years-old).
As I grow older day by day, it's becoming much harder to realise someday somewhat I'll be in the position to be a role model for someone, or some ones. I still remember that time when one of my college peers made that wedding announcement and I went full-on anxiety. All the sudden trembling, dyspnea, cold-sweat palm swarm me over. "Stop exaggerating!", "Ah, you're being too overreacting" were all the responses I got at that time which I swear by the universe I wouldn't want to catch it if I had the option.
Growing up as someone with that broken-home background, I always laugh about the stereotype we've served on television as kids who constantly went on all the bad things and becoming a bad person, a trash to the society. I keep comparing to that image as the stronger ones. I turned out alright, made my way to be one of the most-achieved students at school, a cool broken-home product to put it simply. However, the Titanic as told in the movie was torn and drown just because of a small tip of an iceberg. My life as a kid and a teenager was fine overall, but apparently I have the habit to keep things hidden now I realise.
Witnessing a divorce as a child turns out shaping me to be the person with a constant creep of failing today. I don't really have the role model I can look up to in the matter of a successful marriage would be. And it is never an easy thing to welcome a stranger to your life. It was a hard battle for me and my behaviour to keep up with a sudden new customs. Even further added, to recognise my place and my granted rights as a stepchild. For how much I would like to not think about the status, there was always a boundary within. And that I think is pretty suck to ever let someone I love to be in the place I used to be.
The experience then transforms into insecurity. "This will not last long" or "I will end up alone in my death bed" always creeping me tight. It is now, even more choking now I'm, once again, 23, and my mum had me already three when she was in my age.
My life is becoming more blur every day. I no longer know what I actually want to do and let myself float on the surface heading unknown. Should I continue my study? Should I keep coming to work every day? Should I start exercising? Should I keep sleeping on my bed? while I find time is like a ticking bomb for creatures with a womb. I never want it to get in my way, but the thought often pops up even without any trigger (or is it how the maturity process works?).
Well, Astrid, this is a testament that you too, all lost. Be happy that whenever in the future you are reading this, you are probably in a better place. Or even if it's not, that's fine too, you will figure it out.
On some days I still find myself thinking some relevant reasons to not going to work which eventually lead me to only lay there in bed all day, and that is neglecting my one of easiest responsibility in order to be called as a mature person. On some other days, I find myself crying for not getting the food I've been craving for days, may it because I don't have some companion to go with, or simply because it's been raining heavily the whole day and I really consider the spectacles the delivery man should face only to fulfill my craving, and that is trying so hard to not being selfish but end up unhappy about it which is not a very mature action.
Look back to days when my mum was my age, she had me, already three. I was probably in the phase where I can't really stay still. Walking here and there, pointing at stuff, keep asking what's this and that in my mumbling words. That I can imagine is not a very easy thing to do for mum (well, if it's comparing to how I behave now as a 23 years-old).
As I grow older day by day, it's becoming much harder to realise someday somewhat I'll be in the position to be a role model for someone, or some ones. I still remember that time when one of my college peers made that wedding announcement and I went full-on anxiety. All the sudden trembling, dyspnea, cold-sweat palm swarm me over. "Stop exaggerating!", "Ah, you're being too overreacting" were all the responses I got at that time which I swear by the universe I wouldn't want to catch it if I had the option.
Growing up as someone with that broken-home background, I always laugh about the stereotype we've served on television as kids who constantly went on all the bad things and becoming a bad person, a trash to the society. I keep comparing to that image as the stronger ones. I turned out alright, made my way to be one of the most-achieved students at school, a cool broken-home product to put it simply. However, the Titanic as told in the movie was torn and drown just because of a small tip of an iceberg. My life as a kid and a teenager was fine overall, but apparently I have the habit to keep things hidden now I realise.
Witnessing a divorce as a child turns out shaping me to be the person with a constant creep of failing today. I don't really have the role model I can look up to in the matter of a successful marriage would be. And it is never an easy thing to welcome a stranger to your life. It was a hard battle for me and my behaviour to keep up with a sudden new customs. Even further added, to recognise my place and my granted rights as a stepchild. For how much I would like to not think about the status, there was always a boundary within. And that I think is pretty suck to ever let someone I love to be in the place I used to be.
The experience then transforms into insecurity. "This will not last long" or "I will end up alone in my death bed" always creeping me tight. It is now, even more choking now I'm, once again, 23, and my mum had me already three when she was in my age.
My life is becoming more blur every day. I no longer know what I actually want to do and let myself float on the surface heading unknown. Should I continue my study? Should I keep coming to work every day? Should I start exercising? Should I keep sleeping on my bed? while I find time is like a ticking bomb for creatures with a womb. I never want it to get in my way, but the thought often pops up even without any trigger (or is it how the maturity process works?).
Well, Astrid, this is a testament that you too, all lost. Be happy that whenever in the future you are reading this, you are probably in a better place. Or even if it's not, that's fine too, you will figure it out.
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