BROKEN, YET MIS-UNDERSTOOD

The house was beautiful, lush green lawns with every leaf blade perfectly arranged to ensure uniformity was maintained, the barks on the trees appeared rustic adding texture to the garden. In the far corner was a white metal swing placed under a shade overlooking the driveway. The large black gate stood tall as a barrier, many who walked by wished they could enter to have a glimpse of the splendour it held inside. A little girl lived there, she was perceived as lucky, beautiful and destined for greatness. The world was at her feet.

                    

The girl knew differently, she was taught hard work and kept pushing herself to be better with every task. The beautiful house lacked integral pieces that made the rooms feel cold and sad. The soft light beaming from the night stand that welcomes you in from a hard day's work was broken, the window shatters that protect against the violent winds which blew at night were rusted. Moreover, the floor boards would creek in distinct places as someone walked by and the TV was forever on, presenting a perfect escape from the reality that was. She told herself if I work so hard maybe the attention will finally shift from the TV to me, maybe I will get a pat on the back, maybe a carry hug and kiss, maybe a well done and a soft, “I am proud of you”, kind of statement. These maybes filled her mind and powered her drive to keep trying, yet the more she tried the fewer the accolades. She just could not seem to make it to the top position on the list of his priorities.

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Sports, music, art and high-end schools were at her disposal but there was no one on the sidelines cheering as she dribbled the ball down the pitch and scored, or as she acted on stage during the school play. With every success, no sooner did she get it, the feeling of "this is it", would sweep across her body only to realise it was not. This cycle repeated itself for years. She grew up, her interests shifted from Daddy can you see me to look at that cute boy. Girlfriends filled the space that was previously occupied by TV and shopping for shoes, handbags and dresses became a favourite pass time. Prying eyes, watchful neighbours and the ever-stalking boys next door entered her space. She was slowly becoming prey, her desire for knowledge and understanding of her being and environment was quickly replaced by feel good activities.

Her conscious mind soon stopped asking questions. Why cant you see me? Was replaced with I don't care. what happened? Became, nobody tells me anything. Did i do something wrong? Was quickly answered with, as you get older you will understand. When will you have time? Let's talk next week. Who will train & teach me? The teacher at school. The unsatisfactory answers that she received, whenever she tried to seek understanding and the broken promises slowly began to form rings around her soul. Rings of discontent, apathy and I don’t care. These experiences would bite large chunks of her dreams, self-confidence and ability to see beyond the rejection and disappointments life presented. She had become a weak species. A little sign of kindness and attention was quickly translated to love. A series of bad choices soon befell her. Her instincts had been seared over time. 😞

The inclusivity of the world today and the global movement has allowed borders to be more porous. Cultures and beliefs are no longer limited by boundaries. We are bombarded daily with different stimuli, calling us to be more understanding, gracious and accepting of situations. Phrases such as, ''she has daddy issues", "she is complicated", "she is so needy" amongst others, have been coined to group people and perhaps help make sense of their experiences. 

                        

What could she have done differently? Why was she not being seen? Why was she not a priority? Who did not play their part? Who defines these roles? And are they ever communicated? What better outcome could have resulted from such a journey? Who was wrong? And how can they make it right?

Sometimes the pains we all go through slowly but surely overrides our ability to dig deep and untie the rings that continue to tighten their grip around our souls. Statements such as "Bora Uhai loosely translated means as long as you’re alive, you are just fine" continues to push the narrative it is not so bad. Is that really the case? Is that all why we are here for? Should that sum up a life so illustrious, so beautiful, with so much potential?

As I write this, in foresight I’m wondering will my little ones expect me to have known better? Will answers such as nobody taught me be enough? Or words like, “I did not know?”, will they count?

Let us keep the conversation going in the comment section. What are your thoughts?  

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Credits:
Model -  Hannah
Pictures - Crystal Perk Co. Ltd