The woman who was wounded

Actually I am more wounded than not normal.  To me I am very ‘normal’ and what I do, say, think and feel all make sense.  If I seem crazy than that is your perogative but I refuse to be defined.   I used to care too much what others think.  But through recent trials and tribulations I learnt just because someone says it, doesn’t make it true.  At the end of the day it is what you think that counts.

Undoubtedly I have been deeply wounded by all that life has thrown at me: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, psychologically and any other …ly under the sun.  Sometimes I wonder if I have been very very very bad in my previous life or plain unlucky.  I was brought up a Christian and packed off to Sunday School, then to Youth Fellowship and attending church services.  I had to memorise Bible verses and could sing the order of the New Testament.  However I think it was St. Paul who told us God wouldn’t test us more than what we can bear.  Sorry Christians and Catholics out there.  What I went through was way too much for me, to the point that I seriously contemplated suicide more than once.  Only the thought of my daughter stopped me.

There are billions round the world whose plight is way worse but that doesn’t lessen nor negate my pain.  Anyway, how do you measure suffering, anguish and despair?

The good news is I am healing, the pain will linger as a dull ache but I am reaching the stage of acceptance.  I have suffered major loss upon loss upon loss in the  short space of a few years.  My standard of living has dropped significantly but I have gained freedom and happiness and that you can’t put a price tag on.  It’s not for sale nor does it go to the highest bidder at Christie’s.  Money is a necessary evil.  It certainly makes life easier and gives you  status but it doesn’t guarantee happiness.  Just look at the ongoing cases of celebrities who overdose or have to go into rehab.

I am not quite there yet but I am getting there …  Thank you for accompanying me on this road to finding myself and my voice and liking who I am.

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About cho wan yau

Teacher by day poet/writer by night. Words have been my first love and will be my last. As a child I locked myself into the toilet devouring books which transported me to distant lands. Poetry shared penned from 2009-2010 in a titanic struggle to stay sane at Heartbreak Hotel. Please check it out on chowanyau@wordpress.com. Any comments or feedback welcome. Why not share your story with me, because we all have one, don't we?

Posted on December 6, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Not that I ever try to push my beliefs on anyone else but… the honest first thought that came to mind when reading this was, you are still here. The suicide never happened, and this is how you know that you still handled what hardships and burdens God gave you to bear.
    But yeah that’s just how I see it automatically – can’t help it. I respect other peoples’ beliefs; just saying this is how I see you as being so strong and having MADE it through so much and you didn’t fall or kill yourself no matter how much you might’ve thought about it.
    Hugs Mama G.

    I’m also glad to hear you like who you are. Interestingly enough, I’ve liked who I was for a long time whereas a lot of people have trouble with that and assume that because of my hardships, I was the same. But no. I’ve been proud of who I am for a long, long time but unfortunately just other people never felt the same about me I guess.

    • Jade it doesn’t matter if people never felt the same about you; it’s great that you are proud of you and like yourself. But that begs the question why are you so unhappy and anxious? And what do you think you can do to feel less anxious?

      • If I had to GUESS, I’d say my anxiety/panic comes from fear of being alone – fear of EVERYTHING I think. I’ve had anxiety for way over a decade… even when I was in school I had it.
        But I’m no shrink so I’m not really sure…
        I Just feel terribly insecure and afraid all the time…and it makes me think about H even more than normal.

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