Part Five: The Universe is Trash

Confesh-sesh #8: When life deals you a bad hand, reshuffle the deck, if it gives you lemons, make lemonade. When it gives you shit, that’s where I draw the line.

This post is a bit different. It’s not about Mr A. We’re changing directions but only for today. I have another rant up my sleeve.

They say the universe has a sense of humor. Boy oh boy, the universe is a bitch. I think it’s a wicked little boy with a magnifying glass burning ants to death.

Except we’re those ants.

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The universe has treated me well most of my life. I thought we were friends, but within the past year it has been anything but forgiving towards me. Dafuq did I do to you?

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From childhood, I’ve strived to make my daddy proud. It started at SEA when he deeply instilled the fear of me becoming a ‘Ca-ca Diver’. That term may be confusing to most because I’m convinced it’s a term he coined. Basically it meant that for the rest of my life I’d be shit or cleaning shit in sewers. I’m still not 100% clear on it myself. I just knew, Ey listen, you can’t be no Ca-ca Diver, girl.

I distinctly recall having nightmares where I was swimming in shit. Not a pretty sight. Thus, was born my drive to excel.

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As I grew up, my deep rooted fear of my daddy grounding me made me into the goody-two-shoes that I was. This man would literally lock me in a room by myself with no TV, no books, no toys. Nothing. I’d have to sit there and reflect, half the time in tears because of course, I collected a scolding before he shut the door. In retrospect, the lock was on the inside of the door and I could have let myself out if I wanted but I was so afraid that I’d have to stay in there longer that I would just sit there.

Doing the right thing then became innate in me. I wouldn’t have to think twice. I never got into trouble at school, I never gave trouble at home. I was, as my sisters say, ‘golden child’.

Little did they understand the responsibility and the pressure that came with being ‘golden child’. For some strange reason, any and every thing my sisters did was never a problem. They’d get away with murder. Me? Not so much. Like I said in a previous post, even when I try to do the wrong thing, it backfires like WOW.

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My whole life was spent trying to overcompensate for my sisters’ ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’. I didn’t mind either because doing the right thing was just so much easier. I became my own motivator and I’d push myself at anything I decided to do. This was good, I didn’t need anyone else to make me driven BUT I’d always be harder than necessary on myself. I always had a huge fear of failure and of disappointing people around me. LOL! It happened anyway.

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I excelled at everything I did, I’m not tooting my horn. I did and that wasn’t always a good thing because the higher I set those standards, the harder to maintain and the more everyone around me expected out of me. It stopped being about me and started being about what I had achieved or what I was capable of achieving. My family especially, like any typical Indian Trini family, only cared about what my achievements would allow them to brag about. All except my mother. The only person who’d see how frustrated I’d become, and never due to me not being able to handle a task but by the pressure I’d put on myself. She would be the only one to ask how IIII was doing and do everything in her power to make sure the burden of everything else was eased. I always remember her telling me, “I don’t care about any of this, I want my daughter at the end of it all.”

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I’m 100% sure, at least three quarter of you guys can relate to this.

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As time passed by, I eventually reached my ultimate goal. Well boy, wasn’t that short lived. Oh how golden child had fallen. I made one mistake which due to my amazing luck, spiraled out of control. It was almost as if my unblemished record was being polished for this irreparable shit stain.

Oh I bet you’re thinking, I’m sure Mr A was there for you and was a huge support.

Spoiler alert: He bolted at the 1st sign of trouble. Spineless. What happened to all that ‘love’? 

More on that later.

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As time passed by, I stopped giving a flying fuck about anything. I started to live. My ultimate plan was to go finish everything pertaining to this goal. Curveball, when that time had come due to circumstances beyond my control, it was postponed again. Great. Life plan deflected even more.

My passion for this now turned to hate for a system that is beyond screwed up. Was this even really my passion to begin with or was the passion me not becoming a ‘ca-ca diver’?

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On deeper introspection, I realized that my passion might be something completely different than what was burnt into my brain from a youth. Everyone has dreams, some big, some small but it’s not enough to just dream. We have to wake up and let reality hit us, we have to stop dreaming and start doing. That’s exactly what I did.

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The universe is sick though, that twisted sense of humor it has. Back stabbing bitch. Just when my new and possibly real passion started falling into place, my old passion reared its ugly head. Now, after months of being undecided, I was at a cross roads.

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Two huge opportunities, two open doors, two different paths. One, unchartered territory, which terrifies me to my core, the other, the safe choice, that I’ve trained for my entire life.

Ultimately, we just want to be happy right? Or is that so naive? Does happiness even exist? Or am I chasing unicorn farts?

Then the what-ifs, what if I suck at the new one, what if I hate it? What if the old one was always where I was supposed to be?

Do you know what I did? I cried. Like a pussy.

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I don’t know about you guys but crying is therapeutic to me. As soon as I’m done, I feel lighter and hyperfocused. Now the hard part is trying to figure out which is the right choice. No one understood why I cried, here I had not one but two amazing opportunities which some people only dream about… It’s a choice between good and good. So what do I do?

Why did it feel that as soon as my dreams were coming true, it was actually my worst nightmare?

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Follow your heart. That sounds simple. How do you follow your heart when you don’t even know where it’s going? I also don’t trust that little bitch because it’s led me to shitty places before. And of course, what did NOT help was my dad looking and acting like someone died when I told him about this. That disappointed look I tried to avoid my entire life… yeah there it was.

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Cheers to being an even bigger screw up and disappointment than I ever knew possible and following my ‘heart’.



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