She felt horribly insecure. These periods of insecurity were visiting her more than any other period in her life that she could recall. It was unfortunate, because when she believed in her dreams she did with all her soul, and although she constantly told herself not to reference that hurt in the past, its vestiges still clung to her. She didn’t know how to get rid of it. At times she felt loved and cared for; she felt special that someone had chosen to love her regardless of herself. But then, more often than not, she felt like she was thrown in the middle of a baseball field, surrounded by people who laughed and taunted her. Sometimes she didn’t mind them, because they didn’t understand. But most times she saw them, heard them, their words piercing in their truth. The shame she felt could not be weighed. The humiliation weighed her body and chained it to the floor for weeks.
Whenever
she looked at her life, she laughed bitterly. It wasn’t a bad life; but it had
been an incredibly uneventful life. There wasn’t anything extraordinary; no
great interruption of the miraculous. Year after year, she had believed the
popular phrase that “This is my year!” She prayed and fasted, fasted and
prayed, and the year ended without significant change. At least, not the change
that she imagined for herself. And this had gone on for the past 25 years
of her life. Now she was almost 50, sitting in the little, overprized apartment
in a building that was on the heel of breaking apart. Perhaps one of these days
it would collapse and take her with it. But as lucky as she was, she’d survive
and live another fifty years, miserable but still thankful that she survived.
But
this insecurity today was stark. This feeling of having accomplished so
little in her life. The humiliation of it all. It became unbearable at times.
Sometimes, she would remain in her apartment for weeks, not talking to anyone,
barely eating, uninspired, so disgusted with herself and the trajectory which
her life had taken. Somehow though, she would get the strength to go outside
for the day, get some fresh air, and the darkness would dissipate from her mind
for that moment. At those times, she would remind herself to count her
blessings; that she had a roof over her head, had food in her fridge; she
was still active in her community with the outreach work that she was part of.
Although none of it had been what she wanted, at least she had something. It
was better than some of these men, women, young boys and girls, who were
homeless, no hope, and drugs and prostitution was all they knew. She,
comparatively, was at the top of the food chain. And she had to be thankful.
She had never known that street life. She had to be thankful. She had never
been homeless. She had to be thankful. She had grown up in, and had a
relatively good family. She had to be thankful. Although her dreams did not
come to pass, she had to be thankful. Although she did not go where she thought
she would, travel the way she would, and have the life she thought she would,
she had to be thankful. Because it could have been worse.
Sigh. It
could have been worse. Getting up, she walks to the window, and looks
outside. She reminds herself to let go; that such thoughts will only overwhelm
and disappoint, and open a scab that was better off as it was. A reminder. A
reminder of everything that she could have had, but was never destined to be
hers.
It
was snowing outside. That light, fluffy snow that fell ever so slowly. The
pavement had mastered patience. It waited, one flake at a time, until asphalt
was blanketed in white. It was Sunday today. She had to go to church. Well, I
suppose there wasn’t an obligation, but it is something that had come to be
part of her life for many years now. Church had been a salve, a healer of the
giant scab that nestled on her heart. But now, it was punishment; a reminder
that not everyone who knocked got through. At least, that’s how she saw it. She
couldn’t recall the last time she had really heard the preacher speak. She
didn’t know what songs were sung. No; she did, but she sang automaton. She went
through the routine Amens! and glories! She gave her tithe, prayed with her
brothers and sisters! Believed that God turned people’s lives around. She
believed for others, but never for herself. Not anymore. God had abandoned her.
Although many would argue that she had abandoned him. Whatever the case, it was
a relationship that she no longer made effort to revive. She was tired now.
There was no more reason to ask. It had been like being in a relationship with
a man who constantly made promises, but upon coming up short would blame her
for the reason they didn’t happen. She was tired of that. Evidently she was never
going to get anything right.
But
she still went to church. Although recently she had contemplated not attending
anymore. She went through the motions when she was there, so what was the
point? She didn’t have the passion anymore.
Getting
her black coat, a beautiful, fitted coat she had found at a bargain shop, and
knee-length boots, she went outside. The second that she was out, she knew that
she wasn’t going to church anymore. Instead of walking toward her car,
she walked to the sidewalk, and walked farther away from the old, crumbling
building. She kept walking, not seeing the school playground where a couple was
playing with their child; missing the woman who was outside with her dog and
daughter putting up Christmas lights; unaware of the 2 kids in snowsuits making
snow angels. She missed it all, because she no longer cared for such things.
She kept walking. The snow kept falling. And the crumbling building was left
far behind, to collapse on its own or to remain standing. She didn’t care. She
just kept walking.
-Chenai
