Innocence of youth...the wisdom of experience

"You look just like your mother...a pity you so dark!"  I was reminded of the time this statement was first made directly to me following recent interactions with friends and family.

The difference being that whilst over the years and more recently, the majority were in a positive light "Boy you looking more and more like your mother/Ordene/Diana/freckles and all.."the original statement struck a pivotal chord in my memory and unfortunately value system at a very early age.

I don't remember who the person was at the time, but I do remember that it was a woman and that I was running around playing with my siblings and cousins at a family gathering.  For the first time in my life I began to realise that there was some sort of difference in skin tone and other physical characteristics amongst myself, mother, siblings, relatives etc.

As the eldest of 3 girls, I had the benefit of having my parents all to myself for 4 years and was 'daddy's little girl for awhile longer as presumably I 'looked' more like my dad in my pre-teen years, but I never quite understood at the time that much of that 'looking' like my dad as remarked by others had more to do with my darker complexion than actual features.

Now I know other persons have commented and have said to me more than once "I don't view you as dark...compared to me you're a brownin..." and therein lay the issue, the comparison.  That is how it all started, comparisons.  I HATED AND TO THIS DAY HATE SUCH COMPARISONS.  The fixation on who was lighter/darker/curly hair/straight hair/slim nose/big nose/short/tall/slim/fat was pervasive not only in my family it was everywhere.

It had a major impact on me as I started to notice that persons were treated differently according to how light/dark their skin was.  Following the initial statement I paid closer attention to the comparisons, the tone in persons voice, their mannerisms and how they treated the people they were comparing.  AND I GOT ANGRY.  I decided from that day on anyone who had anything negative or cheeky to say about my skin colour/hair/my siblings/cousins etc. would get a piece of my mind.

I saw how friends and family members 'shrunk into themselves' trying to disappear when persons belittled them for being too fat/dark/snuffy haired/red/skinny/bad colour...and I spoke up for them and at times for myself, however I did not/wasn't capable enough to look deeper into the effect these words had on me as a person.

But even though I spoke up I still felt a sense of inferiority, that I was somewhat not as good as others taller/bigger/straighter haired/lighter skinned etc.  Even supposed well-meaning and well-thinking persons who knew better, still fell prey to the comparisons often disguised in a joking manner, perhaps because they knew how strongly I felt about these comparisons.

The effect of such spilled over into my relationships in that I purposely chose to date only darker skinned guys to prove a point, not that I did not like them, but I did not realise at the time that the very comparison I was fighting against I was also perpetuating.  Although I did eventually date and marry someone of a 'lighter hue' my preconceived notions of his 'cockiness' and his own generalisations made for a number of abrasive interactions in the beginning.  I felt it was the '...yeah typical brown man sense of entitlement', as he stated jokingly, but yet matter-of-factly '..all girls like a brown man.'  So I threw away his number 3 or 4 times.

The fact that at the time I had recently come out of a relationship with the only other lighter skinned guy I dated, who at times also voiced this type of thinking/received similar comments in my presence, including the "You should be glad he chose you, you'll have pretty brown skin babies...," yeah, that didn't bode too well either.



But it all came down to our similar cases of socialisation and upbringing found too often in the Caribbean.  The terms 'anything too black ain't good/pretty or good hair versus bad or knotty hair/brownin or brown man versus black gal or boy/slimmas/mawga/scrawny versus fluffy/fatty/mampy and the list goes on.  Many of us including myself say or have said these things and even though we know better, we too often easily still resort to these comparisons.

Overtime as I got older and became more comfortable in my skin, I realised 'it's the only skin/body/hair/nose/height you'll have on this earth,' and it helped me in my active choice of reducing/removing these comparisons from my speech and thinking.  Even though the innocence of self was for me unfortunately lost in part due to the words of a relative, the wisdom of experience taught me that we all make such comparisons good and bad, very much due to our upbringing, common cultures, socialisation, sense of self...children and adults the world over.

Though it still irks me when we as men and women to this day make these comparisons about each other and treat each other with disdain due to differences in skin tone/gender/culture/race/religion/social status etc., often wondering why our children have such low self esteem, lack of compassion and anger issues, the small part I can play in improving my interactions with others and my children's upbringing is what I will do to reduce the damage we often inflict on each other and ourselves.

To sum it up I can say, "I am proud to look just like my mother...freckles and all.  I am darker in skin tone to her, my siblings, some relatives and friends, 'cause I'm different and I'm me. We're all different and wonderfully made.

Even if it takes a lifetime, I hope we can all reclaim some of the lost innocence of our youth, as we experience the wisdom that comes from living as flawed but yet beautiful humans.



P.S. I quite relate to the following video (see link below), and I plan to be as positive as the younger and elder participants:

WOULD YOU CHANGE YOUR BODY

The Comfort of Pain...the Joy of Freedom...the Glory of Flight

Have you ever experienced a pain so real and intense, but yet you couldn't imagine life without it so much it becomes the norm?  Well that is how I've dealt with my problem 'wisdom' teeth plaguing me since my high school days.

I'm not so sure where the wisdom was in that, but having lived so long dealing with the yearly on and off pain due to the lack of space for proper alignment and growth, it actually became my norm, along with occasionally griping about the nuisance.

The eventual removal of the 1st of 3 was done fifteen years ago.  It left such an indescribable drugged up mark in my psyche and gap in my lower gum line, I was prepared to bear the brunt of the further 'growing pains' of my remaining wisdom teeth than experience that trauma again.  So I settled uncomfortably into an existence of sharp shooting pains and occasional migraines, but since it only happened once or twice or thrice or whenever a year it was fine!!?

However, 15 years almost to the day of the 1st removal, I had to schedule the removal of both wisdom teeth.  Xrays showed just how damaged they were, how far into my sinus cavity the roots had grown and the impact one of them had to it's neighbouring molar (root canal on the horizon very soon).

I was so afraid of the initial pain and discomfort of removal (and cost), I had actually made things worse for myself.  Turns out that it would have been less painful and cheaper if I had taken them out earlier.

Thankfully having two health insurance policies I paid nothing out of pocket.  Tooth 2 took some work and made the dental surgeon SWEEEAAT but out it came in under 1 hour.  BUTTTT that 3rd, stubborn left upper wisdom tooth took almost 2 hours of work by two dental surgeons working in tandem, cutting, drilling and sweating in unison to get that monstrosity and bane of my existence out of my mouth.

Now unlike the 1st tooth extraction which was just as big and intrusive as the 3rd, back then I was given some 'horse tonic' knock-out pain meds.  This time around due to my delicate stomach, I could no longer take such strong meds, so regular ibuprofen and antibiotics would have to suffice.  I should've realised that the fact I could feel my lips again, whilst listening to the regular post-op chat, I was in for some PAINNN.

Having to drive home with 3 kids and a now dead cell phone (thanks kids) meant I could no longer call for backup on a busy pre-emancipation afternoon.  So with my mouth packed with gauze...the slowly creeping discomfort became full blown excruciating pain 5 minutes into the drive.  That 30 minutes in traffic caused me to unbuckle my seat belt, turn on an off the AC, unlock my door, turn on and off the radio, grip the steering wheel, start and stop undressing and cry silent tears so many times, it was the 1st time I ever heard and saw my kids remain deafeningly silent as they watched me go temporarily insane.

By the next morning despite NO SLEEP, HUNGER, SWOLLEN FACE & did I say HUNGER plus CAN'T SWALLOW without holding onto the furniture for support, it dawned on me that it was Emancipation Day.  What a day to realise the magnitude of what freedom meant.

The importance of the struggle, the fight as well as the loss of life of our forefathers all for the right of personal freedom, freedom for their children and future generations.  Despite all the initial pain, my mouth was finally free.  No more blinding headaches, swelling, cuts...yes more healing and a procedure to come, but no more Comfort of Pain, just the Joy of Freedom.

The fallacy of 'comfort' often reminds me of the story about 'The Falcon and the Branch':

A King received a gift of 2 falcons.  Beautiful birds which he gave to his falconer for training as they were quite young.  They were trained for months but only one bird would fly whilst the other sat perched on a branch.  Nothing he tried including summoning other trainers, sorcerers and healers from all over could ever make this falcon fly.

One day a farmer passing by the palace heard about the stubborn falcon who wouldn't fly, so he decided to try his luck.  Having tried everything else, the desperate King gave the farmer permission to try to make the bird fly.

In the morning the King was surprised and thrilled to see his two magnificent birds soaring in the sky. He then brought the farmer before him to answer his questions.  "I would like to know your secret?" the King said.  "Tell me how you achieved what more trained men couldn't do?  How is my falcon flying?"

The farmer smiled and looking calmly at the King and he said "It's quite simple your Majesty, I just cut the branch the bird was on!!"

Like the King we often have nagging problems which we make worse by ignoring the obvious due to our tunnel vision blindness, resulting in even bigger problems.  What is so simple can be obscured by either an inability to seek or take notice of the obvious solutions.  For me despite knowing what caused the problem, I continuously dealt with the discomfort due to my fear of initial pain, hopping from dentist to dentist somehow expecting a different prognosis.

The story of the Falcon and the King teaches us that "We are made to fly.  But at times we sit on our branches, clinging to the things familiar to us and never attempting for change.  The possibilities are endless, but most remain undiscovered because we never attempt to go beyond our comfort zone.  We conform to the familiar the comfortable, the mundane."

So just remember to look for the obvious, get outside of your comfort zone, destroy the branch of fear you cling to and free yourself to the Glory of Flight!!"

My journey to 40...

So I gave up journalling long ago, not intentionally, it just sort of happened.  Life got so busy I just couldn't or didn't want to find time and it was safe because no one could critique, praise or question my thoughts if they weren't divulged or discovered.

The hidden, procrastinating perfectionist was always at work in my mind.  Just as busy as I was on the outside, but unlike Kellee the planner and doer, behind the scenes, stuck in my mind worry wart Kellee was analysing, working overtime and agreeing on ways to not voice my opinion without appearing flaky to the outside world.

So thus my musings written, drawn and blogged ended bit by bit over periods of time starting from 1998→2001→2011.  Off and on the few who knew would remind me, but I'd easily brush it off and jump to more pertinent issues like family, work, religion etc.  It was so much easier to focus on other matters and persons than myself in my quest to give, remain selfless do my best, not be selfish and on and on and on and on and on in my head and one day my head got really tired and asked what's just for me that no one can lay claim or take away?  Where's that bit that's uniquely Kellee? Who cares what the world thinks?  Does the world actually care about what you think?

WOMAN PUT IT ON PAPER OR TYPE IT OR DRAW...DO SOMETHING SO I CAN GET SOME REST!!


And so after much internal, self-imposed anxiety, what better way and day to 'emancipate' myself from mental slavery than August 1, 2017 to officially restart my journalling and blogging.  After all the procrastination, doubt, yearning, prodding and encouragement, planning, doubt again...don't you have school work to start and finish?  You need more sleep...I can't sleep...Drink some water...JUST DO IT!!!


So I've done it, finally got out of my head and put it to paper and now blog.  I'm learning to give myself a break and not be so hard on me.  Just grow and relearn who I am for me and not just who I think I am or should be to others.

This journey has also reminded me of growing up wondering why my mother roamed the house, doing God knows what so early in the morning.  Why couldn't she sleep?  What needed to be done inside or outside at 4:00 IN THE MORNING?

GUESS WHO'S ALWAYS WIDE AWAKE AT 4:00 AM EVERYDAY PLANNING HER DAY?

Seems mum and I aren't so different after all...HERE'S TO MY JOURNEY TO 40.

WEEKLY INSPIRATION

See the inevitable changes not as threats, but as opportunities that can deepen our understanding and bring us wisdom and growth.
- Susan L. Taylor