Today I woke up thankful that I am married to a nearly perfect man, and blessed with fantastic kids. The joy sprung from an unusual dream, so atypical that I didn’t know where it came from. I have this nasty habit of interpreting my dreams (and those of others!), even went overboard previously by compiling a dream journal. Jokingly, friends call me “Madam Babes: The Psycho at the Mall, “an allusion to “The Psychic at the Mall,” a rather intriguing booth in one of the local malls here in Legazpi City. Well anyway, I took the time to give my dream a thought, and try as I may, I just couldn’t quite make sense of it at once – so unfortunate for one who has always been fascinated with what goes on in the subconscious. I’m weird, I know.
I woke up a sullen forty year old, accomplished but well, yeah – single. Not single again, really single, wondering where life has taken me, and what have I done with my life. I felt an intense sadness, my heart beating slow—it was sore. My mother was prodding me to marry. To my mind, where the hell do I get a man at forty? At this age, all marriage materials are taken, or if they hang around, doubtless they are gay. But, a dutiful daughter, I said yes when she suggested that I marry the man she remembered. I couldn’t break my mother’s heart and so I could not bring to her the disheartening truth that this man she referred to has been married for a time. Of course, that is short of saying that I didn’t marry because I loved him. For now, I could only look at him from a distance. And so literally, I would gaze at him from my windows, wondering what-if or, what could have been.
It’s been quite a time that I have been sad – I mean, sad as in sad – so, the feeling was burning and overwhelming. (I panic whenever there’s throbbing; I don’t like heartaches.) A gentle touch of a hand on my knee brought me back to my senses. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a dream. I instinctively felt the warmth and affection of my husband and two girls, quite distinct from the intensity of aloneness where I just came from. I dismissed it, nevertheless determined to find its hidden message later in the day, as I had to get ready for work.
Now as I write, I am forced to premise my interpretation on the widely accepted notion that dreams are reflections of inner conflict that I have failed to resolve in the conscious level. Had I not awakened, I might have had confronted the issue right there in my subconscious (because in the oddness of my person, I have found a way to stay lucid even in my sleep). But the dream is over, and right now I have to rely upon a metaphor.
But surely, I know the message: I have unresolved conflicts, and my subconscious tells me to address them. At 38, I am eager to start a new phase in my life which most people say begins at 40. But before a new life, first I have to let go – really let go – of things, people and events that I have lost but still hold dearly in my heart. I have not completely let go of all my anguish and hurt. I learned to compartmentalize. I kept them tucked away somewhere in my heart. True, I didn’t allow my emotional baggage to run my life, but I have allowed “these ties from pulling strings” somehow. My experiences profoundly affected my person; the people I lost-- permanently or not – made me lonely and left a hollow in my heart. I often wonder why I had to be left behind. I once in a while revisit my pain to repeatedly ask myself why and what if. I wished I could have done more.
One thing is certain though; I face a bright prospect – if I could finally stop “gazing from my window.” I must keep away from the distant. The past is gone and cannot be relived, except in the imagination. My husband, my two girls – they are my reality. They give me so much love, and I couldn’t commit the mistake of abandoning my now for what-if. My mind often takes me to unknown places. I have always loved the mysterious, the mystical, the unfamiliar. But then again, that is not what life is about. Life is the here and now – and this is where and when I must live.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
I struggled for your attention. I fought to have ALL of you back. But to see you juggle life and distort your own sense – for what? for me? – that’s NOT what I wanted.
When I said “I didn’t want to live out the pressures of your life,” it wasn’t an expression of non-support. I meant it as I said it. I have always been a book hoping to be read. But this time, I speak plainly.
I didn’t intend to be mean when I cried, “I want a life of my own.” I actually meant, “I want you to have a life apart from mine.”
I have been your world. I don’t resent that. It is all that a woman could ever want. BUT don’t take that as an obligation. You don’t have to.
It pains me to see you want to take care of me, like you were wont to, when we know, we both HAVE to do other things. That is the price of being more than ordinary.
Honestly, it hurts me more to feel I’m getting in the way. Please don’t make me feel vulnerable. I have always been able to take care of myself.
Relive the times. I WAS never powerless. Perhaps, I only enjoyed being your princess for the last 12 years. But believe me, I can still be that person you fell for, in the first place.
Live with it. I want it. I have so decided it to be so. You live your dreams. You are capable of becoming who YOU want to be.
You remain faultless in my eyes – everything anyone could ever want. The little things I said I missed, those are trivial – I am learning to live without them, without harping on you.
This is my share of coping with the inevitable change of what may be the last lap of life. My little girl says “I am the BEST mom there is in the whole CITY…” I remain to be so.
Finally, I am proud to be the supportive wife. I am comfortable with my own gains and merits. I’ll grow old with you wherever life may LEAD us.