Wednesday, December 7, 2011

But I'm warning you, we're growing up.

I should know what to say.

There should be an automatic reflex in my body; a natural instinct for me to respond to you with a silkiness that is expected of me. After all, I am a woman. Twenty one years of being a female should be education enough for me to prepare for this day. I should be able to effortlessly encompass you with the warmth, comfort, encouragement, motivation, relief that you crave and quite frankly, deserve.

And yet I froze.
In that critical moment when your darting eyes were searching for reassurance, I instead handed you my hesitation, and in turn exposed to you my fear.

In your eyes, I am the adult.
To you, I have the answers to everything.
I am omnipotent.

And before this I have always known the right things to say, but no, not today.

Why do people die?
Why is grandpa in pain? He is a good man, you said bad things only happen to bad people?

My dear, dear girl.
You are at the delicate age of nine years old, which makes you too old to be lied to, and yet too young to handle the harshness of reality, the cruelty of life.
I felt my tongue thickened as I struggled to find the words to say.
I wanted to tell you things will turn out fine.
I wanted to reassure you that sentence that my own mother's voice had echoed in my head throughout the years: All hardwork and suffering is the price you pay to find the rainbow in the end.
But I couldn't.

Because at this point in my life, I do not believe this. I really don't.
Life isn't fair.
All the storm and hardship you put yourself through does not guarantee a happily ever after.
Life, unlike what you were told when you were a kid, does not hand you a candy after you got 100 on your spelling bee.
I had been a positive person, I was your classic rainbow and ponies girl. These days I still walk through my everyday life with a smile on my face, but the truth is, a lot of my naive positive energy had been drained through the many disappointments life had hurled at me.

My aunt's painful death. My uncle's losing battle with his cancer.
My own mother's struggle throughout her entire life.
Just to name a few. I do not even want to venture into other areas such as my love life or my seemingly bleak future.

We want to be winners, we fight a lifetime for dreams; only to realize at the end that there are no winners in life.
The only thing permanent in life is death.
The truth is, there is no guaranteed light at the end of the tunnel.
It is a myth that had always been to the younger generation.
Because the older generation were cruel enough to have brought them into this world to suffer, and the only way to lessen the guilt is to feed them with lies so that they will have the drive to go through each and every day of their lives? To keep fighting till life inevitably defeat them?

My God. I am so bitter.
And it was at this moment that I was struck by the sinking realization: I am not mentally ready to mother a child.
I had always imagined myself to be strong enough to handle being a single mother. I still believe I will work hard and do whatever it takes to provide for my own child in every aspect. But right now, raising a child with my negative view on life will only be tragic for him/her.

I am so sorry child.
I am so, so sorry I let you down.
I took you into my arms and gave you a warm, tight hug, trying furtively to push all your questions away.
Because I had no answers for you today.