February 1, 2017

The scars we carry...

As a kid, I've had friends from happy families and always wondered what kind of charmed life they led. Because as families go, ours was as dysfunctional as it could get. We accumulate scars over the years, from our family, from society, from strangers and from the world at large. It's impossible to escape unscathed. I've always wondered how it would be if I weren't as scarred as I am. Because I have to weigh every word I say. The person I am is a sum of those experiences, scars and all.
Of late, I've been thinking about this a lot. When I scream at my son, I wonder if he'll carry it with him to adulthood. When I scare him or restrict him from doing something because it scares the hell out of me, I wonder if I'm creating another person who'll always be scared of taking the leap. I should let him be. But then there's always this fear, what if I fail as a parent!

What I want the most is for him to grow up to be a good human being. It's horrible being a parent sometimes, because you don't really have a handbook that tells you how to deal with an unpredictable person. They say kids learn from you. I hope not. It's taken me 30+ years to discover myself, and to prioritise what's really important. I don't always set the right examples, and I've promised myself I will not be rigid. But then, when he drives me up the wall, I realise that my parents were right too.

What my parents did give me is the gift of choice. The freedom to choose who I wanted to be. A conscience that still hasn't given up on me. And endless hope. I hope I'll be all that for my son too. :)

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