Stick to Your Lane

One sunny afternoon Shiva a young mother picked her daughter Kenzi from school, she was eager to share the good news she had received. As she took the corner around the administration block, coming into full view of Kenzi's sight she noticed how the little girl leaped off the floor and run to embrace her. The hug was big and heartfelt. They took each others hands and made their way. As they approached the car, Kenzi asked, "mummy do you have money?'' The question was so specific and unexpected, the young mother took a deep breath paused briefly and enquired politely, "why do you ask, do you need something?''

The little girl smiled innocently and responded, "some of my friends at school said, I cannot go to their party because we do not have money''. The statement, so wholesome and literal, ripped through the mother's heart as if it were a bullet fired from an automatic revolver. She buckled, Kenzi's seatbelt and went round the car towards the driver seat. Walking, she wished the car would elongate to give her more time to process the statement and come up with a befitting answer. Her brain raced, neurons and pathways signalling different command centres trying to search for a response. The signals were looking for anything the brain may have stored regarding money, mean girls, sacrifice, gratitude, friendships, privilege and finally, where is daddy when all the tough questions are asked.

What felt liked a long pause, quickly vanished and she was in the car. Kenzi's eyes big and round waited in anticipation for the mothers profound answer. Shiva, with all the inner strength she could master to prevent her voice from quivering said, "yes, i have money but daddy and i have to plan for it, to make sure we can give you want you need, do you understand?'' Kenzi replied, then why did the girls at school tell me we are poor? The young mother, wished the axle of the car would break in half and the ground beneath open to swallow her whole. She could not understand the depth and complexity of her daughters questions.

Needless to say, Kenzi attended an affluent school, during admissions the parking lot would easily be confused for a high-end car yard. The other mums, were trim in size, always looked relaxed with long manicured nails, designer bags and drivers waiting for instructions. Shiva knew that environment was way over her head, but she was determined to expose her child to the best, her savings and sacrifices could provide. She wished for her husband to appear in the car to help carry the weight posed by their daughter's questions. As they drove, she turned on the radio and told Kenzi, "let us talk more about this in the evening, we can also ask daddy".

                           

As the song played, Shiva prayed in her heart for wisdom. She knew they were not poor, but the harsh reality was despite all of her efforts, sacrifices, calculations and prayers, she just could not fit into that crowd and her child was now being asked why? why am i not like them? The more she pondered over the questions, the deeper it cut. Did she step out of their lane? which lane was theirs anyway?Who put them in that lane?  The normal ten minute ride home felt like an hour. Her daughter went home and she rushed back to work.

The whole afternoon, different scenarios kept flooding her mind. Shiva remembered the all the times she compromised herself to fit it. All the unnecessary expensive purchases she made just to perhaps buy her space on the table, all the empty conversations she participated in yet inside lamented about how trivial and shallow they were, all the parties that she attended only to feel alone in a room full of people. Shiva before this experience was not able to stop and ask, ''why do I do all this?", "why do I feel the need to be liked? To fit in?''and "Why can't I trust my instincts and say no?".

Determined not to let her daughter fall into the same cycle of ignoring her instincts. A light bulb lit brightly in her mind when she decided her child will have a different outcome. The fog of uncertainty, lack of knowledge and understanding soon began to lift and it was fear that resided beneath it all. 

Fear of being thought of as unnecessary by the people she worked so hard to please, fear of being perceived as valueless, fear of being rejected and fear of being authentic - unsure of what she was capable of. The small talks she engaged in would act as a mask since she appeared knowledgeable, the expensive purchases would communicate i too can afford yet debt, worry and anxiety would cause her insomnia and her dedication to maintain a status quo attitude would always cast a shadow over her true self.

This realisation unleashed a power and confidence so strong, she knew it was time to break the cycle. It was time to re-learn herself, strengthen her instincts and teach Kenzi to be true and authentic to herself.  As Shiva got home that evening, having already briefed her hubby about the heavy conversation that awaited him that night, she looked free and radiant. Shiva knew it was going to be a long journey before she could fully be true and authentic again but was very happy about her new found awareness. 

When it was bedtime, the two parents went into their daughters room sat on the floor and instead of daddy rescuing the situation, Shiva said, "baby, in this world you are going to meet a lot of mean people, a few honest ones, some kind and others just evil. During those times, i need you to listen to your heart as she placed her hand across her chest. In here, there is a voice that will always help you know which way you should go, alert you when are in danger and teach you how to respond to different situations."

The girl looked puzzled and said, "was it the voice that told me, to tell those girls who said I am poor, we cannot be friends because that is bad manners to tell people that?'' The mother moved in closer for a tight hug to hide the tears that were swelling up in her eyes and softly said, "yes, that was it". The parents kissed their baby and said goodnight. As they walked to their room, the hubby took his wife's hand, squeezing it said, "you did good in there".

Thanks for reading 😊😊😊

Credits

Model - Maya.

Photography - www.crystalperk.com

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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