Time Heals, If You Let It.

Every thing we do in this world, has consequences. When I was a child, the hardest decision to make, was to eat the cookie without the cream in the middle, or with it. If I wanted to eat without the cream, I would take it off with my finger (yes, we were all like that once) and when I wanted to keep it, I would just take the cookies from the cookie jar, without opening them, and before it was time for bed I’d be done for them, not wanting to have dinner with family at the time, and my mother never seemed to find out who took the cookies from the jar, as I would swear it wasn’t me and she’d trust me the most.

But as time goes by, you learn that your lies can hurt people. And maybe they’d never trust you again. As you grow older you learn that those basic decisions in life you had to make, have no meaning anymore. That the cookie jar is no longer a concern, or who emptied it, money is the basic problem, and the money used to buy the cookies. So as I grew older, I learnt to not empty the cookie jar, and eat my ‘share’. I would tell Mom before leaving the house where I was going, I would tell her with who. To me, everything seemed different. Watching movies with dad on Friday nights was no longer possible, as he moved out and we moved to another place. Seeing him was almost next to impossible, it was only on the weekends that we’d go with snacks and drinks and he would give us our pocket money for the week. Life had started to change without us even knowing why, or how, or when it had even started to. It just did. We didn’t have time to think why, or when, no time to answer all the questions up in our heads. It was us three siblings, my brother, my sister and I, and we three were not so closely knit to each other at the time too, to be honest.

By the time I write this paragraph, I’ve even forgotten what the purpose was of writing this post. But maybe I just wanted to feel and see if I had it in me, if I could go back in time and remember things and compare them with what I am today, how they built me, broke me, made me stronger, helped me see life in a different perspective. It is true to an extent that everyone sees life differently, according to their own frame of reference, but some of the people in their lives have been through so much that they have the ability to see through things as they happen. And at the time I was growing up, I didn’t. I had been pampered alot and I had been treated like a little princess. My dad had never raised his hand at me, my mother had never scolded me too much, as far as I can remember. Mom and I were always pretty close, but I was closer to my dad back then , than I am now.

I guess I was one of those people who learn with time, as incidents in their life take place. They learn from those incidents, they fall and hit their heads on the ground, rub off the dirt, get back up and start moving on. I did that almost my entire teenage. So much so that the only memories I have of me growing up, are the ones in which I was struggling, and moving on. And trying to move on. And being strong, being there for my friends, being there for family. I remember little time in which I had actually laughed, enjoyed my life (to the fullest as they say) or maybe I just kept hoping that someday, it would happen. And someday I would be relieved of all the pain and the trauma and whatever wrong decisions I’d made would just turn up to be in my favour some day. Or even if they didn’t maybe I’d make right ones from then on.

But time heals, and so I had heard. And well it really didn’t, only the effect of those words on our minds. And how people believe it, forces us to have faith in those four words : ‘time heals all wounds’. As I sit by the window of my room with the laptop on my thighs, looking out listening to music and staring at the moon, as I think about how innocent childhood is, how we play and play all day and are tired at the end of it, we eat, sleep and that’s all we plan to do with our little lives. How I grew up pretending to be strong and not really being, till one day the only thing left to do was be strong. And then I had no other choice, and how I learnt everything on my own, without the strength of the father by my side, without the strength of my mother (although she is everything to me, and will forever be) , hiding things from her in order to keep her from getting hurt, being strong on my own with no one to support me, not even my friends. Because I had been through so much pain alone, through the series of events in my life, that I didn’t need anyone to take care of me. I had control over my thoughts and emotions.  I could handle being alone and a warrior. I could handle it all, it was nothing new to me anymore.


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