On being unrecognized

I would like to own up to the fact that I am insecure in this job, in my career right now.

I’d like to own up to the fact that I am not perfect, and that I am too inhibited.

I would like to own up to the fact that I am not yet recognized or published.

Nearly 40, I am not the woman, the person, that I aspired to be when I was 19 going on 20.

And yet, I do not see myself as a failure.

I am pockmarked with the experiences of life.

I have two children—I have given birth twice.

Without relief (bar husband’s contribution with time and money), I have borne the burden of childcare on my own.

No yayas, no housemaids (though there was a short stint for live-in cleaner nine months after the birth of my second child).

No bottles, no formula.

No lolos, no lolas.

Anorexic, and still recovering as an anorexic, I hid my disorder under the surface until it surfaced.

At 36, I relapsed.

But I survived.

Being too thin. Twice.

Another pockmark. Or should I say, scar?

I am indefatigable, I will survive it all.

I am resilient.

Born an Iron Monkey (as per the Chinese horoscope), my intellect is steel, cold and hard, uncompromised.

I groveled eight months ago for a job.

I took an on-line course.

I applied, applied, applied.

I was thwarted in life as a writer, but I trained myself to be one.

I re-defined myself, I am re-defining my life.

So, I am Melany now.

I think there is a truth in re-naming things.

So, here I am.

Writer.

I am a writer.

My dad told me I can never be one.

I will NOT succeed being one.

But here I am, I will prove him wrong.

I will be the best writer I can be. Not anybody’s.

Today I realized that I am no novelist, no short-story writer.

I am a non-fiction writer. I cannot do prose.

And I am a product of my profession.

I can be psych professor masquerading as a writer.

I am the Psychologist Who Writes.

In time, I will find out where I belong.

For now, I am mom, and I am wife, and I write.

I write to stay sane, I write to detox, I write to survive.

I write because I can, I will write for life.

I write for my dear life.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

spot_imgspot_img

Latest

Time to transform my relationship with criticism

Recently, I received negative feedback from my immediate supervisor. My immediate reaction was, "I want to quit this job." I had to step away...

Standing up to bullies in my 40s

A month into my new job, and I am still adjusting. There is a lot to learn, and there are days I am overwhelmed. Currently, I...

I grew up with my son

When RH was very young, I was not in touch with him. I was a detached parent. I felt so uncomfortable when he cried....

Learning to wait without losing it

One of the hardest things for me to do is wait. Maybe this is your struggle too? Sometimes, it feels like we're constantly waiting on...

What a stray cat and a counteroffer taught me

I got acquainted with our neighborhood 招财猫 (fortune cat) Chi Che a few months ago. She’s a young adult cat who lingers around our...