" To pay attention. This is our endless and proper work." - Mary Oliver

It's only words and words are all I have..

To take from the popular Bee Gees song..but my words are not to 'take your heart away' but instead,  share mine with you.  I've wondered and dwelt a lot on how we make stories and as I grow older, I am more and more unraveling the stories we/I have told myself and how they  have made me.  The labels that people around slap us with and the labels we buy and follow as our script in life, sometime  in complete and absolute unawareness of the role that they play in our lives. 

One of the commonly used labels from my life ever since I can recall was that of a 'good, responsible  girl who took care of everyone'...and I have done that all my life!  The more I did, the more I believed this was my sole job and purpose in life. I was proud and pleased with myself and so were  the others. Little did I realize ( I don't think a child can) as I do now, that this script also served to earn me praise and avoid getting thrashed like the rest of my siblings. I watched their 'disciplining'  in shock and horror while telling myself that I was 'different' and therefore didn't require this kind of treatment. Ironically, while this was the dynamic between my authoritarian father and me, I got frequent and brutal thrashings from my mother while he was not around. Possibly to make up for the fact that he was partial towards me and possibly her way of letting me know that she was also powerful and had authority just in case I thought otherwise.

There were moments when I had a strong urge to be a 'bad girl' and I was - at school, with siblings but these episodes were few and far between and only when my rage levels had crossed all limits of acceptable pain and humiliation. And while I did these acts, I was fully prepared for the aftermath which was usually severe punishment that would deter such behavior in the future.  There were times when the pain and resulting hatred and anger towards the adult ( usually my mother or my catholic school teachers/nuns) were so intense that the only way I could cope was to either plot revenge or  write about it in my journal, lest I forget and forgive). 

When I look back at the path I took and the choices I have made in my life, it is so evident to me that I followed the 'bad girl', 'misfit' track almost as a backlash to my upbringing and experience of growing up.  As an adult, when I was finally able to give myself permission to make unconventional choices and decisions, I suddenly experienced the freedom and  sense of self worth that I had been longing for. 

Here's the  wisdom I have been able to extract for whatever it is worth: In both the stages of 'good girl to the external world and bad inside' and 'bad girl to the external world and good inside', the price needed to be paid, no matter what.

The question: Do women every get away without 'paying a price' and buying their way through life if they are alive enough to know what fulfillment and meaning look like to them?

I think we know the answer ( if there is one) but it's too scary to acknowledge it because then I am forced to ask questions such as  " what about my daughter?', ' how do I ensure that she is well equipped to navigate this path?