By The Way, I Am Not That Special.

I am not that special and this is a reality. I am part of the zillions of human being living on Planet Earth. It’s glaring I breathe in the same air and blood runs through my vein. I eat food grown in the soil of this planet and drink from the body of waters which surround it.

Clearly, I am not a special specie the world is yet to discover. I communicate through speech, gesture and signs. I am a mother like loads of various women from various cultures and background.

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I Am A People Pleaser And This Stops Now!

This might sound odd, but I am a people pleaser. Or should I say was? This wasn’t me some years back. I was never like this. Back then, I was a cup of sugarless organic black tea. I wasn’t a cup of tea for all. I had a league of my own.

But, somehow, I was labelled. I was that rude girl who saw herself above everyone. People misinterpreted my personality. And when my sister said in her disarming frankness, ” This is why people think you’re proud and a snub”, I decided to turn a new leaf. Her words pinched deeper than she said it. I felt stupid for being me.

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In The Midst Of My Anger.
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In The Midst Of My Anger.

My son stood beside the window of my bedroom. He drew some imaginary animals with his fingers before climbing the bed beside me. I immediately knew he had something to say. He has a way of speaking without uttering a word.

“Mummy, you were a little grumpy this morning, yesterday and the day after and some days before then”. He said avoiding a direct gaze.

I thought for a few seconds before replying ” Really?”, pretending I wasn’t aware of that fact. I wasn’t just grumpy, I had been raving mad. Angry about everything. I knew it, but listening to this young man actually called my attention to me.

The Reason Behind My Madness.

As you know, parenting could be hard to fathom out sometimes, but for me, I have been struggling to come to terms with this truth. My children are not toddlers any longer. I expected some level of maturity. I have a teenager, a pre-teen and an eight-year-old. However, the challenges are as tasking as ever.

I stormed to the living room earlier demanding why the cushions were everywhere except where they should be. I was fuming with anger.

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