In the last few weeks, I have found myself many times tottering on the edge of a meltdown. With family and work matters and countless events in my life seemingly conspiring to attack me all at the same time, I just want to escape into a corner of my world and hide there until the conspirators go away. But that is not really me speaking because the person I know that I am would single-handedly fend off the attackers, kick their asses, and send them flying into oblivion.
All my life, I have chosen to deal with my own troubles. This was a girl who cried behind doors and suffered asthma attacks under blankets so that my family could sleep undisturbed by my wheezing. Even as a child, on top of my own problems, I was conferred the task of solving the entanglements of people around me. It was not something I asked for, the responsibility just seemed to have been encoded in my DNA. While I did not shirk from this, I spent many days wondering why people always seemed to turn to me for help. All of these have of course turned me into, or at least led me to believe, a strong woman who could be relied upon to save the world!
But the me-of-late has become bruised and lame from charging at windmills. It must be my age - giving rise to diminished faculties for processing information of the ambiguous kind. My constant battles with my conscience and painful memories have unearthed vulnerabilities I never knew I had. Everyday now, I realize that there is only so much that can be contained in my daily calendar. Only a limited data that my neurons can handle at top speed. And not much more disappointments that my wounded heart can take.
There is simply just too much on my plate these days. I wish that even without me asking, those near to me would offer to ease the load. A hug, a kiss, and words of support and understanding will do too. Oh yes, in the end I believe that everything will be alright. Occasionally, I just need someone to remind me!
