Battles Within

My mother met my dad at the tender age of seventeen. She fell head over heels in love with him from the first moment she laid her eyes on his handsome face. Despite the challenges, of which there were many, she was determined to win him. With sheer perseverance she bombarded heaven with prayer petitions to get what she wanted and succeed, she did. It has been over fifty years now since that momentous meeting but the decades spent together has not faded the magic between them. To this very day, they are both still deeply in love with eachother. Where one is, the other is also. They are inseparable.

I of course consider myself very fortunate to have them for my parents. Growing up I was secure in the fact that no matter how often they fought and argued they would somehow find a way to kiss and make-up. Their mutual commitment to uphold their vows have kept them steadfast and faithful to one another throughout the roller coaster ride of their marriage. It is a joint achievement I find most admirable.

Naturally, I too want to attain the same kind of success they've had. I also want mine to be a fairytale with a happy ending. I, more than anything else, want to provide my children with a solid home from which they can build their roots upon. But times have changed so much. What used to be black and white now is fast becoming a confusing array of grey. No longer is there a clear demarcation line between good or evil, right or wrong. The answers are lost in individual translations, all arguably correct depending on what angle you're looking at.

The relationship I have with my husband suffers greatly due to our conflicting personal points of view. As is commonly the case, man often thinks he is right and so does woman. Both stubborn in our ways, we are unwilling to budge from the spot on which we stand. He has his ego to protect and I have my feelings. Which of the two is more important?

For sure, head-on collisions will benefit neither of us. Ultimately, the children are the ones who are caught in between the cross fire. They are the ones who will bear the brunt of the war. They are the innocents who will be most injured and scarred. It is because of these reasons that I regularly find myself giving in. My surrender, though painful to me, will spare them from further suffering. And so, waving the white flag, I must bow my head and lower my eyes in humility. For peace's sake, someone's got to.

I have energy enough and ample ammunition to fight to the death. I have a formidable strength of spirit within me waiting to be unleashed; waiting to prove itself a capable victor. But if my sole aim is to prevail in as many battles as possible, will it necessarily mean I am guaranteed to win the war? What use is the reward of that if I lose the man I love and in the process tear the family apart?

Perhaps the real champion is the one who gives in.

Face in the Mirror

I once watched a television program which featured former Super Models. These icons of the fashion industry graced the covers of countless magazines. Their images, made famous by advertising campaigns, were used to launch a myriad of consumer products. Whether they are admired or envied, these select few have garnered attention, fame and success simply by being born beautiful. They are deemed as superiors by the multitudes of plain and ordinary others.

Most would consider the gift of beauty as an absolute blessing but listening to the interviews of these gorgeous women made me realize that it may also prove to be a liability. So endowed with obvious advantages above the rest, the beautiful tend to develop a kind of dependence on their outward appearances. This inevitably leads to pain as the years will eventually and unavoidably take their toll.

One after the other, each celebrity on that particular show candidly described their individual struggles with aging. Accustomed to turning-heads, they find it quite difficult to accept that they no longer can fetch the same kind of attention to themselves. The spotlight has now shifted towards the younger and the prettier. It may seem to some, a cruel joke, to be surrounded by a light so blindingly bright only for it to be blown out and transformed into a dim grayness. The higher one has risen, the harder is the fall back down. Experiencing the fading of such glory, it is natural to feel a sense of mild depression.

Fortunate then are the awkward, tongue-tied, plain and unattractive. They, who are not by birthright “special”, learn to adapt, to adjust, and try harder. By necessity, they have to find out who they truly are, discover optional qualities and develop strengths other than their looks. Compensating for the lack of one trait, they shine in other aspects be it in skills, talents, and academics. In so doing, they are made richer for their efforts and rise above the level from which they first started.

Soon I will be marking an additional decade of my life I am forced to face the mirror and closely gaze at it.  Will the image reflected back at me be frowning due to the evident lines of aging, or will it be smiling, contented and happy for a life well lived?

Hanged by Mistake

I can blame it on distractions or say it was due to a blurring eyesight or maybe even to a busy schedule that forces me to rush things up a bit. Whatever the excuse, I feel I ought to kick myself for not properly editing my articles prior to their submission. I proof-read my work at least twice, yet there are still words that sometimes slip my notice, lines that could use re-phrasing, subject-verb agreements that don’t jive. Often the realizations of my mistakes come only when it is too late to retract. There are also the kinds of errors caused by computer glitches. After all, a simple click of the wrong button can erase entire lines, making the actual composition lose its flow and unfortunately, also some of its essence.

My father raised me with the awareness of words, its usage and their significance.  He would explain how important it is to properly construct our sentences. The selection of words, their positioning and the punctuations used can make a world of difference. To emphasize on this principle, my dad shared with me a story: It is that of a man who supposedly was guilty of a grievous crime. As he stood on the scaffold to receive his capital punishment, a note arrived. It instructed: Hang! Not Spare. And so the floor beneath the man accused was opened. He fell deep into it, and his neck was broken. When news of this reached the official who sent the message, he was furious because he specifically ordered that the man be freed. He said, “Hang not. Spare!” but due to plain incompetence, though the very same words were used, the punctuations were reversed. This neglect to detail paid a high cost.

Though this tale is quite dramatic and seems most unlikely to happen, the fundamental meaning behind it still holds true. We can be hanged by mistake with the littlest of errors made. A single word misused or a punctuation switched can make or break a written piece of literature, a relationship, and in this particular case, a life.

Less than Best

Numerous times I have been told that I am like the character Bree Van de Kamp in the television series Desperate Housewives. Unfortunately, I cannot agree nor disagree with the comparisons made because I have only managed to watch a single episode of this show. As I understand it, Bree is a perfectionist bordering towards having an obsessive-compulsive disorder. She is always at her prim and proper best, impeccably dressed and poised. Admittedly, I see our similarities as I, like her, pride myself in the careful attention to detail in practically everything. I am against mediocrity. I strongly believe that a person's work reflects their character. And so, it is with higher standards that I conduct most of my affairs in life.

The problem with this attitude though is that people tend to demand a lot more from me. They've seen me consistently deliver great results and recognize what I am capable of. And so they assume I will live-up to their high expectations however unrealistic they may be. But human as we all are, I am too am flawed and falter. I occasionally slow down my pace in the race of which I am made exhausted. I am not always driven to excellence. I sometimes get weary of sustaining the standards I have set for myself. For my own better good, I have learned to tone down my competitiveness and allow others to outrun me and take hold of the victor's cup. Let them have their chance at it and receive the glory that is rightfully due to them. I will happily applaud their accomplishments. In humility I have accepted the fact that I cannot always be superior from the rest. Fighting for the number one spot is a price often too high to pay. I no longer find the motivation to keep on vying for the best.

In deciding to let go of the compulsion to win, I now can freely breathe the fresh air of contentment. No longer overly concerned about what others think, nor pressured by their push to climb the top, I am at last satisfied to stay put. When I get up again to contend will depend on me, not them. I alone should take control of my life. I am no one's puppet.

Changing my mindset has far greater rewards than any accolade, trophy or medal.

Bullies Amongst Us

I still clearly remember the incident as if it happened only yesterday. I was in first grade and was asked by my teacher to stand up so I could recite for the whole class to hear, the answer to her question. I was pleased with myself for knowing the right response and having confidently delivered it. But my elation was short-lived for when I sat down, I fell hard smack on the concrete floor. Apparently, my seat was deliberately taken from under me as a cruel joke by a mean classmate. Naturally I was hurt. I suffered from the actual pain of the pressure on my buttocks but more so from the ache of embarrassment. Everyone saw it happen. Some were horrified. While others laughed. Just a child of six or seven years of age, I recall how infuriated I felt. I was filled with the desire to pull the culprit’s hair and yank her from out of her seat. But a part of me was also awfully humiliated that I felt like crawling into a hole and bursting into tears. I believe such reactions to be acceptable either way.

Perhaps due to my religious upbringing I chose not to punish my foe with physical force; Perhaps due to my family’s military background, I chose not to cry but rather to contain my emotions within. Whatever may be the reason, I was no longer compelled to impulsively react. Instead, I got up from the floor, straightened my skirt up and then walked towards the teacher at the front of the classroom. All eyes were on me and all ears listened as I asked to be transferred to another seat, far away from my adversary. Of course my request was immediately granted.

That day I learned that there are bullies amongst us. But on that same note, the experience also taught me the profound truth that “Toughness is in the soul and spirit, not in the muscles.”-Alex Karras

I handled that situation with dignity and grace. In doing so, I did not give my antagonist the satisfaction she wanted. I walked away from the situation with my chin up high. She, on the other hand, cowered away in shame, head bowed low with her eyes on the ground.

A Happy Thought

The first full-length movie I remember watching in the cinema was Walt Disney’s Peter Pan. Fantastic as animated films can be, I was completely enthralled and was thereafter convinced that magic exists.

In the story it is told that with a little pixie dust and a happy thought one could actually fly; though now that I am an adult, I know this cannot possibly be true. I strongly believe in the power of suggestion and have often times relied on my imagination to get through the toughest of times. Whether it was while I sat on a chair at the dentist with a drill in my mouth or in an airport on stand-by waiting for hours for a delayed plane to arrive, visualizing something pleasant has been for me a useful coping mechanism.

Sometimes life can throw us more than a fair share of problems making the future ahead seems bleak. Sometimes our daily routine can become monotonous, predictable and dreary. In picturing things positively in one’s mind, great comfort, if not inspiration, can be found. In envisioning a brighter tomorrow we are encouraged to wait it out until things get better…because they always do for those who believe in the magic of hope.

Taming Hyde

I watched its musical version twice on Broadway and viewed a movie or two about it. Though I am quite familiar with Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic story Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, I am still very much intrigued by this subject. Deny it as we may like to, we cannot change the fact that in each of us exists an alter ego. Every individual struggles with the good and evil inside.

Recently I encountered a fellow-customer in a shop at the mall who like me, naturally wanted to be attended to. It just so happened that this person came first in line. Unfortunately, she had total disregard for everyone else around and hesitated not to monopolize the time of the lone salesclerk. It soon became apparent that she took pleasure in making us wait and she showed no intention, nor urgency in trying to speed up her lollygagging. One thing led to another and my impatience got the better of me. The Hyde within gave her a piece of my mind and left her with words to ponder about.

The character Mr. Hyde may have been destructive for the most part but it can also be said that he was strong, aggressive, passionate and self-confident. These are traits that when used properly, can be advantageous assets.

We as imperfect humans cannot completely eradicate the “Hyde” in us. The challenge I guess is simply in taming it.