I haven’t written for a while, and I get withdrawal symptoms when I don’t write.
Think of a crack addict without their drug of choice. Yes, if you think I am in two minds about what crack is – speed or some other illicit drug – you would not be wrong.
I have said this before; I am so aggressive and defensive because I feel everything, and I don’t know how to turn that switch off once I turn it on.
Recently, I was speaking to a friend about parenthood. Neither of us is parents to kids that are born from us.
I always wanted that white-picket-fence house, with the perfect home and husband and two kids.
As life eviscerated these aspirations, I often wondered if I would make it and who or what could fill the hole in my core (not my heart).
And it has been more than filled, and I like who I have become or am becoming.
The principal reason why it’s been relatively simple to fill this hole is I accept a few things. First, this hole is of my design, and the sole responsibility to fill it is mine. I do not look to others for help in this matter.
The most significant chunk of the hole has been filled with aspiration and ambition to do something that the odds of succeeding are 0.01%
These are good odds because I can create a legacy beyond myself that can last many years beyond my death. Yes, I am planning that too.
I want my name mentioned in the same vein as Chanel or Estee Lauder, and if space travel can be commercial in my lifetime, then my dreams are almost provincial.
Of course, I have my doubts, and that’s where friends and family come in because they are my rock and propel us forward. They believe in me and my cause more than I do.
I find their belief reassuring.
Of course, what life cannot replace is the beauty and the warmth of a small child. No one is capable of loving you as much as a child, I am frequently told.
This statement is complete bollocks and speaks to the insecurities that are instilled in our culture.
My niece may, in the moment, love me more than any other thing or object. But the reality is she has the same love for others.
I am not unique – I flatter myself in thinking that the quality of my love or who I am is exceptional. It is not.
What is difficult to replicate is the empathy that emerges from unconditionally loving another human.
When I see you, whether you are my friend from business school or my niece, I know and feel your pain and struggle. That when I see you laugh, I can hear the resonance of your laughter as my own.
I don’t think you need a child or anything else to do that.
You have to be willing to experience all that life has to offer and not be an automaton.
I have a naiveness about my personality that bewilders many of my friends. How is it that I can be so puppy-like and be constantly surprised by people and situations? How is it that I am not skeptical about everyone and everything?
I think I am skeptical about many things. I refuse even to acknowledge a man who is not a 10, does not have the brain the size of Africa, is not kind and humble, and does not look like Hrithik Roshan. (Of course, I am single).
But it is a mistake to assume that because I adopt the position I do, I am not aware of the alternative reality of life. I recognize it – I just don’t want to be a sheep and walk down that path anymore. Sorry.