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.

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