Part 2
#July
072017
Posted
the first part of my personal journal “Travelling and throwing baggage
on the road” on
Facebook last July 2nd with
concluding statement to be continued…
On the eve of the day that I posted it some close
friends who cannot wait for the continuation of my journal chatted me in
eagerness to know how am I faring. On
the following days others told me they are waiting for the said continuation.
Though I have shared it with loved ones and close
friends and been busy during the week as always, I am compelled to continue
with what I have started to post. As promised here is the continuation now, the
same hot dish I have served to those whom I have shared this..
Part 2: Accumulated
and Hoarded Baggages for Decades
The most difficult part in writing a personal
journal or autobiography is the responsibility of caution, caution not to
slander the people involved in the circumstance, of not bringing those who hurt
you in an arena where they are not present to defend themselves.
Much as I wanted to share my story with
inspiration that others may learn something from it, I will take the shoes of
the newscasters and reporters in bringing information. I will have to be
objective and share the experiences as it happened, as factual as it is.
To my father, second wife and siblings,
should I deviate from my position above and unintentionally take the shoes of
commentators and be subjective, my advanced apology. Much as I wanted not to
offend anyone in my journal, my apology should anyone be offended. This IS my
story, and what I am writing is MY life…
I am the firstborn child and grew up with my
younger brother in our grandparents’ house. My mother is their 4th
child amongst seven siblings. As early as five years old I have come to know
that unlike my cousins who have their fathers with them, my brother and I have
a father but we seldom see.
In our growing years it was our grandparents
who provided for us, and sometimes with support from our uncles.
I remember I renounced toys in my childhood. Since
there was no father to buy toys for us, we just borrowed and played toys of our
cousins, but borrowing and playing toys with cousins becomes source of sibling
fights. At a very young age I did not want to become like a beggar to my
cousins’ toys. I grew up an unusual child, not fond of playing, and very fond
of reading. In reading I had my own world, no cousins to fight with me, I
renounced their toys and they don’t get my books or anything I’m reading. In that way there would be no fighting
between us.
I grew up with the attitude of “I don’t mind
if it’s not mine, and no one should touch with what is mine”. I hated being
given materials things by my uncles and be taken back by my cousins’ mother,
for reason that it should be for my cousins first. At an early age I learned to
clarify first my ownership when things are handed down to me.
I value so much anything that was established
as mine. As a growing child I realized that the sources of blessings and
anything that I will have are given by my grandparents and relatives, gifts
given as really mine, prize for games, bought by money given to me and payment
to my little labors.
When I got married and built my own family I
value so much all of my childrens’ belongings. How I value anything that we
acquire went to the extent of not throwing anything even those already destroyed
and of no use anymore. More than half of our house contents are my hoardings
for the past decades, and becoming a source of anguish to my children. One of
my daughters would question why on the world can’t I throw even a destroyed
doormat.
As we travelled back home when we visited our
old and sick father last July 1st, I said my brother and I had
deeper sharings and testimonies, and we unloaded our hearts with burdens
carried for many years. I myself threw my biggest baggage on the road, the pain
of growing up without a father. I felt relief and not just counted but
accounted my blessings, that I am what I am now, and I am made this kind of a
mother, because I grew up without a father and I see to it that my children
will not experience what I have been through.
As I arrived home and as days passed by,
looking at the house where we live filled with hoarded baggages I came to
understand why this is so. I hoarded everything that we acquired for many years
because I was so attached to them, as if they are measures of my self worth.
Things that are mine sort of gave me sense of importance, that our father
failed to give us.
Now I see these hoarded baggages don’t serve
their purpose anymore. As I threw my soul’s biggest baggage on the road, I’m on
for a big clearing up of the house, detaching material baggages to the self that I’m
finding free and going happier.
To me: Happy clearing. To my children: Yes,
joy to the world!
Thank you for reading. Thank you for your time...
Next epidode:
Part 3:
Breaking the Generation Curse
