I
was ten then. I had barely woken up from my sleep that morning. I could hear my
mother grumbling, in the next room. She had fired the maid on some pretext and
had been using my help liberally to take care of the house. She had not spoken
to me for past two days and I woke up with a start. In my effort to please her,
I silently slithered to the kitchen with my sleepy eyes and started washing the
utensils in the sink. Hoping she would notice and forgive me for whatever
mistake I had made. Her approval was very important for me. She was my mother,
and I was just ten. I felt the now familiar sensation of a lump in my throat.
It had been there for a few days this time, ever since my mother stopped
talking to me, two days ago, more accurately. And I wished it away, but knew it
would be there till she forgave me. I felt miserable, yet responsible for
whatever I had done, for which my mother was silently punishing me.
Today
my friend reminded me of that lump in the throat. Referring to my
"It’s Okay To Cry" blog. She said, I know it is okay to cry, but what
about that lump in the throat that refuses to go. I wish she had not mentioned
it and I am glad she did. Because I have pushed those unhappy feelings so deep
in my psyche, in my effort to be the strong, independent woman that I have
forgotten what it was like to be a girl.
Was
it not uncommon to let those tears roll down the cheeks or to just be hurt
inside, with that lump in the throat? It was painful, but I learned that is was
comforting too. When those tears rolled out or just lumped up in the throat, I
knew I had reached my limit and could let others take charge of me. Such
helplessness I thought, would nudge someone to do something affectionate for
me.
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