Isn't it amazing how easily people can dismiss you? Just today, someone actually told me "oh, how would you know, you have the perfect life." *insert maniacal laughter here* Though I tend to disagree with this assessment, it did make me ponder for a bit. hmm... did I, after all, have the perfect life? Had I woken up a fairy princess and not noticed? I began to take stock of my situation.
On the surface, it did rather seem that I have been enchanted. I wouldn't necessarily call it perfect, but I suppose some would label it as such. I guess I never looked at it that way. I'm clothed, fed, sheltered and gainfully employed. I don't have a free night to call my own. And, relative to a Darfur refugee or a Colombian street child, I'm in Heaven. But I wouldn't say my life is "perfect" - not even close.
It's what I would rather call a "moderate success." And, as is the bane of any successful woman, this gets chalked up to "luck" and "circumstance" as opposed to "skill" and "hard work." I'm not going to apologise for making it look easy - I bloody well earned it. I shopped at the Salvation Army and did groceries at a food bank; I wore gloves to save on the heating bill. I worked three jobs while going to school full-time so I could pay off the enormous school debt that came with having no one to rely on but myself. My car has a laundry list of things wrong with it, but until the chassis rusts off or the engine falls out, I'm going to keep driving it. Blood, sweat and tears? Been there, done that.
And it's not just about money - I haven't lived a charmed life. I've lost my fair share of sleep, taken more than my quota of prescription meds, had my trust shattered by those who should care for me most and held too many friends' hands in too many waiting rooms. I've been to court both professionally and personally and I never want to go back. Ever.
The perfect life? Maybe, if we're measuring it in terms of shit withstood. I suppose, the real mark of a successful woman is how well you can hide all the crying, the shame, the insecurities, the vulnerabilities. Because no independent woman worth her salt should be seen as weak or wanting. That would defeat the purpose.
A long time ago (almost nine years now) I was given the advice that if I didn't feel happy, I should fake it until I did. Every day I was supposed to have new goal: today, I will stay out of bed all day; today, I will smile; today, I will not jump into the frozen lake. I used to brush my teeth and repeat these mantras over and over again. I became very good at faking it. Therein lies my perfect life: it's the one people think I lead because I won't give them grounds to think otherwise.
I still have the daily mantras (though, now, they tend to revolve around laundry and packing). I still obsess about money and want to avoid ever going back to glove-wearing indoors. I suppose, these days, I'm much more put-together than I have been in the past. That's not because I lead a perfect life; rather, it's the result of such an imperfect one.
What would I know about it? Try me.
1 comment:
"The perfect life? Maybe, if we're measuring it in terms of shit withstood. I suppose, the real mark of a successful woman is how well you can hide all the crying, the shame, the insecurities, the vulnerabilities. Because no independent woman worth her salt should be seen as weak or wanting. That would defeat the purpose."
Now there's a paragraph a girl can relate to. And its things like "shit withstood" that I want to put on a t-shirt and claim! I know what it feels like to have your struggle ignored because you know how to struggle with a modicum of grace. At the end of the day, people see what they need to see to justify feeling like they've been shafted in life. You and I talked about the toughness of life (over good Thai food) and both of us I think have the greatest understanding of what perceived perfection is.....a strong will to survive, and do it with a smile on your face because, well, you're a survivor. Like the Destiny's Child song....that's right.
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