The only thing you ever have is you
No one really has anyone…the only thing you ever have in this world is yourself.
It is not an idea that one can be comfortable with or even remotely ok with…yet it’s true. Each one of us came into this world alone and each one of us dies alone.
It is an experience that can only be lived solo. If you’re lucky enough, you may have some people by your side, maybe even leave children and grandchildren, yet you still have to go through the experience all by yourself. I think we all know that, yet somehow that seems to be one of our biggest fears.
The other day I was talking to a friend and she told me that she decided that she wanted to have children, before for many years she didn’t think she would ever want to. When I asked her what made her change her mind, she didn’t say that she felt that she was ready to be the great person who wanted to bring another soul into this world, she said it was because someone in her family has died, and she took comfort in the thought that at least the other surviving spouse had children to comfort her in the time of grief, as support system as she called it.
She imagined that her fate would be similar, due to the fact that her husband is 16 years older than her and more than likely to go first.
That reminded me about that and really made me think and ask myself how do I feel about all that.
Having lived in a limbo hell for 20 years being stateless in this country, unable to move forward or go back, I haven’t acquired much. Not being able to attend college due to being stateless, hasn’t earned me a degree that I could develop into a fruitful, satisfying career, so I do my best working my 9-5, pretending that it’s ok, cringing every day at being robbed at the chance to fulfilling my true potential, stealing moments in the day to dream of a different life.
Having come from broken home hasn’t instilled a sense of self-worth in me, having been beaten and squashed growing up has made me flee, abandoning my home forever…with it any self value or self-love to know that I deserve something good in life, that I deserve not to settle.
So I settled…not to be alone anymore. Not to rock myself to sleep with a tears soaked pillow. I settled for a man who happened to be the 1st person to ever love me or make me feel not all alone in this world. He is a good man, one with many conflicting personalities and traits, the sweetest person I have ever known, yet twisted up with anger without moment’s notice. A broken man, just like me, a lost soul.
So, I have stopped thinking about me, I have made him my focal point of focus, I forgot to dream my own dreams, because I made his dreams my own. His love for music, the immense talent within, waiting to emerge for others to be known…while living in near poverty year after year, while my life passes me by, like a merry-go-round, everything flashes and nothing is in focus. Just a blur passing me by…Oh, how I’ve dreamed of flying! Of rising above it all, looking at it from a bird’s eye view.
13 years have marked a day in August of our union…not a promised one, no rings or wows exchanged, just words, that ring of echo, shifting together, words disappearing into sounds, no longer holding shape or ideas. 3 years I was gone. Left to live alone with a cat. Scared shitless, yet FREE! I jumped off the cliffs at the lake to mark my independence, it was as liberating as meeting new people. Only jump was better, pure adrenaline, I jumped without thinking or hesitating, nothing afterwards spoiled it for me, not even the pain. It was forever what it was – a liberating leap of faith.
People are never like that, something always managed to creep up and spoil it all. I haven’t met my half, I kept meeting them because they asked me for my time and were willing to pay attention to me, wanting me…I didn’t like anyone, no one reminded me of home and no one was remotely like me. It felt pointless…………
So I went back…to the only person who made it feel like home or gave me a remote idea of what family would feel like. He loved me still, I loved him still…not on paper, but in heart. Despite the hate that simmered just beneath…hate is not the right word, more like sadness, like a blood trail from a wound, a blood called resentment. Resentment of not being able to save me, a broken stateless girl, with no promised tomorrows. I asked time and time again, if he loved me, why didn’t he help to bring me any closer to any of my dreams? Why didn’t he fight for me to overcome my statelessness, why didn’t he ask me what my dreams are so that we can work towards them together? For 13 years I’ve lived on nothing but promises and was being asked to sacrifice myself, to wait for him, while dying a little inside year after year, wilting like an flower…until my youth seemed to be fleeting from me…my hope of ever having a real family or becoming a mom taken away from me…almost altogether…yet, there is still a lingering possibility, faint as if viewed through a thick fog.
I was asked to live in a waiting room ALL MY LIFE! I keep waiting for a man to earn his living, so that some day we can have a real home, not an old 1 bedroom apartment with no central heat, keep waiting to go to the beach on a real vacation, keep waiting to get married, while looking hungrily with envious eyes at the beautiful brides in the magazines, keep waiting on even allowing myself to think of children. I keep waiting on a system to grant me a green card so that I may call some place home, a place I have been living in and paying taxes for 20 years.
I keep living in a waiting room….for what??? For something that may never come? For something that may never happen? How can I continue to live like this?
I am not even allowed to talk about any of it. Not with him…because as soon as I do the World War III erupts with violent smashing of something, this morning was a coffee mug, shattered into gazillion pieces, with the shards, my heart shattered as well.
What can I do? Who can I turn to? I have nothing…………………………..only me.