Confession

It is 2007. The third day of 2007 to be exact. Its strange that the date already feels so natural. I remember the days in primary school where I spent the first few months of the year writing the date of the previous year. I suppose it reflects how my focus in life is change.

I have spent the last few months of the old year living by the mantra that the truth will set me free. Lately this has shifted slightly to "the truth will set you free but first it will piss you off" - Maya Angelou. Although in my head I interpret that as fist it will cut you and bruise you.

To the point however. In fitting with this philosophy the point of this post in some way to set myself free I think. Catharsis if you will.

The realisations I have come to this week have been like bricks hitting me on the head. nerious "NO DUH!!" moments. The first and foremost of these is that I am "scary and damaged". The second of these is, of course I am scary and damged how could I not be. The third is, thats ok I am allowed to be scary and damaged. The bonus of that is that it has made me a little less scary and damaged.

I suppose we all do the best we can. I think however it is this trying to stick a plaster on something that needs stitches or perhaps even surgery is what in the end compounds the damage and lets it fester and bloat.

When my mother was lying on a bed, dead for just minutes after a drawn out battle with ovarian cancer. I let someone comfort me, not just in that instant but in the hours and days after it and my extended family punished me because it was the wrong someone.

For months in the aftermath all I could picture was her with papery skin, eyes fluttering gasping for breath as my uncle put a bottle of perfume beside her. A gift.

When she walked into our rented house after my months away from her while she had been in Malaysia while I had been in New Zealand I didint recognise the painfully thin person with a short mop of curly hair who carried an oxygen tank with her. My mother had always been overweight.

I never forgave my father for putting my education before spending time with her. I stayed with some family friends in titirangi to continue fourth form while they had those precious 6 months.

My brother is now on a much milder dosage of the drugs they used on her to treat his kidney disease. My father is terrified

These are the people I refused to accept as a part of my life. My sister and my brother who I practically helped to raise. My father who spoke to me when he felt like he had no one left. I pretended for a very long time like they didint exist because it hurt to much to see. It was only when I was forced to choose that I opened my eyes again. It was like being born.

Been I don't think accepting damage is what infects others.