Some Wednesdays Feel Like This

The messy in-between.

TOL, proud of you, my not so little princess...
Or maybe that's not the right way to put it.
Wednesday afternoon.
Home alone.
Just perfect me bonding time...

YOU.
The number of times I've watched this creepy series is astonishing.
I like the vibe almost as much as I find it creepy.
Beck...craving to be seen. To be chosen.
Her character, the typical dreamer striving to write, to do poetry, to articulate thoughts into words.
But totally lost.
Childhood trauma.
A constant struggle to be seen.
Quite the messy in-betweener.

One moment dying to be a badass, the next settling for the bare minimum from the people around her.
Joe chooses her, but possesses her in the worst possible ways...even eliminating those close to her because he feels they are a threat to what they could possibly have. Even attempts to fix her, to be the version he thinks suit her.
However, can one really fix another person?

One Sunday morning...An emotional conversation...
I blubbered, "I just wanted you to choose me."
By the way, don't ask me what that looks like.
Honestly, I don't know.
But the longing to be chosen...
To be seen...
It carries a whole new level of sigh and relief.
The big question though is,
What does being chosen mean?
What does it look like?
Is it perhaps the need to be fixed?
But then again..what exactly is broken?

Going back to applauding my gal...

Yesterday she was called out of class. She was about to be sent home because I was yet to clear the school fees. Instead, she walked herself to the accounts office. Explained herself. Told them no one was home. They opted to let her back into class. Never mind the whole lesson she had already lost.

While we talked about that encounter last night...I acted confident.
The I've got this kind of confidence. While deep down, I felt like a total jerk.
Like, her job is to go to school.
Mine is to support her.
Now she is fighting my battles.
Ten minutes of feeling like a mango🙇🏾‍♀️, then the kinder being in me whispered,
So what? I haven't cleared the fee. Seventy percent is already paid. Shouldn't that count for something?

"Don't worry. That is a small issue," I assured her.
"Am I not the same person who has always paid before? I'll clear it at the end of the month...together with the trip charges."
Her eyes lit up, Just a little.
However, seconds later...
I watched that little candle of hope slowly blow out.
I think she is getting to that age where reality begins introducing itself.

Finally, I told her,
"I'll get you a more affordable school next year."
Then we sat in silence.
I know how much she loves her current space.
It is okay for her to mourn...The good times. The normal she has always known. The friends.
But I also cannot let her fight my battles.
Those are mine.
Mum battles to carry.
And why this write up is suddenly becoming quite pitiful is beyond me.

But then again...
Isn't that exactly who I am?
The messy in between gal.
Not the ordinary happy, spontaneous girl.

Woke up feeling tired.
An upcoming flu. Tummy aches. A terrible migraine.
Then that damn morning call, just what i needed😏
The accountant sounded on edge, eager to have the arrears completed.
Minutes later, the deputy sent a message on the parents' WhatsApp group.
If a child was ferried back home during the day, then the parent would cover the transport fee.
For some reason, it sounded similar to those auctioneers who pile collection fees onto a struggling borrower.

Come on...

Can a gal catch a break?

Then there are the many chick-flick movies that once lived in my head.
The ones where a guy sweeps a girl off her feet...
Solves her problems.
Fixes her.
Maybe...
Deep down...
I still crave to be saved.

Then I caught myself wondering...
"Who popularized this single life anyway?"
It is shitty.
It is hard.
Sometimes...A gal just needs a break.

Then there is me...
Bailing on bowling and dinner with colleagues.
People who, from where I stand, seem to have life figured out.
I know it's probably a fallacy.

But today...
I choose to see what I want to see.
Instead...
I recoiled into my little corner.
It might seem lonely.
Boring.
Sad.
Sometimes it is.

But it is my safe space.
Where I can be incomplete while sipping my coffee.
A place where I slowly get to realize that, truly...
No one is coming to save me. Perhaps that has always been the point.
And while i write this,
I don't think I'm a sad soul.

I simply happen to write from places most people would rather leave unexplored.