A lady once said that if we approach life and see it as a gift, despite the challenges. Then we shall be “opening presents every day.”
Manila Bay at dawn.
But how do you say that to someone whose childhood was marred both physical and sexual abuse? by someone who was bullied by his own teacher during grade school? or by someone who grew up lying just so he can be accepted and validated because all his childhood, life was a cesspool of failures, left and right, top to bottom.
In retrospect, if life was indeed a gift, then the presents I received must be made of irony if not, something that added insult to injury. And all I want to ask God what everyone is dying to ask… WHY?
What sins have I done as a child to merit the misfortunes of my elders?
Why me? when being born into this world was not of my own volition?
I could go ape shit and rant all I want. But I doubt if God will answer. After all, this God whom I believe in, is the god of silence and His language is revealed not in words but by the stock of everyday life: He reveals Himself in the kindness of a stranger who helps you when you need assistance. He delights in your success and even remains with you in a calming presence when the tough gets going…
In truth, the answers I am looking for may or may not be revealed. But this I know, from where I stand, I can look at my past from a safe distance and at the same time, remind myself not to be beholden to what transpired. Shit happens. Shit hits the fan and everything got soiled. But there is a thing called hope and this fuels me to emerge from the mire, learned and moving on.
And moving on entails me writing down my experience; raw and true to the best of my recollection. For all I want is to live in peace, work for my sustenance, travel the world and do no harm to anyone.