Bawl and weep
“I think I need to see a psychiatrist.” Words I never expected to hear from me out loud. But I said it. Yes I did. Good thing I’m inside a moving vehicle. No one to see me bawling my eyes out, just after listening to Anne Hathaway’s version of "A chorus line".
“My fantasy was that it was an Indian Chief... And he'd say to me, "Maggie, do you wanna dance?" And I'd say, "Daddy, I would love to dance."
That’s it. The few small words. With a sound of hope, and a glimmer of wanting, that broke me. First it was a heavy heart, and then few tears fell down from my cheeks.....followed by a whole river of catastrophe!
I wasn’t like this before. I was always assured of myself. Always the person who won’t break. Even after Those evil witches in college ganged up on me and made my intern life a living hell, it never broke me. Didn’t shed a tear. I have no care for them. Nor for the profession I’m finishing college for. All I want is to finish without dropping grades, and I’m happy.
I was always the smart one. The straight-edged daughter everyone expects me to be. And I did not disappoint. Gave them everything I can....everything I had. And it turned out alright I guess. I have a house of my own, a car of my own, has a dog that loves me...all done without help from a man!
I can say I did good.
But last year was very heart wrenching for me. Papa—the man I never grew up with. The man who stopped being my father after grade one. The man who I would call the day I knew his home number, but never liked to speak with me. The man who I have always wanted to see and know.....the man I was looking from afar, finally came to see me. Not to make ammends, but to ask for help. He’s so thin, and fragile. It looks like he can barely walk. Says he has no appetite anymore. He asks for my help to bring him to the hospital. I brought him there—knowing he’s gonna die. I don’t know why I did not have the sensibilities I normally have. I said it to his face, and to everyone who asks me. “He’s probably gonna die soon”.
He eventually did. After three weeks. Three weeks that I have showered him with nothing but remorse and hate. I gave him the coldest shoulder, but at the same time, fed him, helped him change, give him medicine. He died sleeping. That’s what the nurse said. But I would always regret not being there to feed him and take care of him. Maybe if I did, he would've still be alive today.
It could’ve been the guilt. Or it could be the abandonment issues. Or it could be the death of a loved one the crashed my spirits. I am not the same. I get annoyed easily. And I would make a scene whenever I blow up. I refused to talk to people now, and if the topic of the conversation is about death, I will excuse myself and walk out. I have to desire to leave the house made up. I would most of the time get dressed in the car. I even don’t like taking showers anymore! And I LOVE showers!
“My fantasy was that it was an Indian Chief... And he'd say to me, "Maggie, do you wanna dance?" And I'd say, "Daddy, I would love to dance."
That’s it. The few small words. With a sound of hope, and a glimmer of wanting, that broke me. First it was a heavy heart, and then few tears fell down from my cheeks.....followed by a whole river of catastrophe!
I wasn’t like this before. I was always assured of myself. Always the person who won’t break. Even after Those evil witches in college ganged up on me and made my intern life a living hell, it never broke me. Didn’t shed a tear. I have no care for them. Nor for the profession I’m finishing college for. All I want is to finish without dropping grades, and I’m happy.
I was always the smart one. The straight-edged daughter everyone expects me to be. And I did not disappoint. Gave them everything I can....everything I had. And it turned out alright I guess. I have a house of my own, a car of my own, has a dog that loves me...all done without help from a man!
I can say I did good.
But last year was very heart wrenching for me. Papa—the man I never grew up with. The man who stopped being my father after grade one. The man who I would call the day I knew his home number, but never liked to speak with me. The man who I have always wanted to see and know.....the man I was looking from afar, finally came to see me. Not to make ammends, but to ask for help. He’s so thin, and fragile. It looks like he can barely walk. Says he has no appetite anymore. He asks for my help to bring him to the hospital. I brought him there—knowing he’s gonna die. I don’t know why I did not have the sensibilities I normally have. I said it to his face, and to everyone who asks me. “He’s probably gonna die soon”.
He eventually did. After three weeks. Three weeks that I have showered him with nothing but remorse and hate. I gave him the coldest shoulder, but at the same time, fed him, helped him change, give him medicine. He died sleeping. That’s what the nurse said. But I would always regret not being there to feed him and take care of him. Maybe if I did, he would've still be alive today.
It could’ve been the guilt. Or it could be the abandonment issues. Or it could be the death of a loved one the crashed my spirits. I am not the same. I get annoyed easily. And I would make a scene whenever I blow up. I refused to talk to people now, and if the topic of the conversation is about death, I will excuse myself and walk out. I have to desire to leave the house made up. I would most of the time get dressed in the car. I even don’t like taking showers anymore! And I LOVE showers!
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