Love begets love. So they say. But when it comes to that I am not really very demonstrative. I used to be. These days I’d rather choose time to whom and how should make my affection happen. It probably started back when over and over the people whom I thought matter have, one by one, ignored my unadulterated demonstrations of affection. I finally made my resolve to never again be openly the first one to show some haywire demonstrations of concern (of sort) to just anybody even to ones that matter now. And being raised in a family culture where expressions of affection are considered a taboo didn't help. So I can understand if people would begin to comment that I seem to choose to remain at a certain distance.
Unfortunately for me, having to
consciously hold back has become an awful habit. The people who truly matter
become the helpless recipient of my assumed coldness.
It took me time. To pull back what used to be my generous self
in terms of affection has surprisingly become an uphill climb now. My only redemption
is that now I’m constantly trying. My husband is a blessing. He doesn't even
know he’s a treasure. He would often say I love my work more than I love him.
How could I ever blame the guy? My daughter of 4, though unable to articulate
her pains when I become detached, I know is hurting inside.
One night after a grueling time
with her assignments, she became too unresponsive and less willing to finish
her work. I became too impatient to the point of hurting her which still makes
me feel so guilty up to now. She finished her assignments all right but the
next scenes would knock off any adult.
I noticed her red eyes all right
earlier on that night. I knew she was trying to hold back tears. But I was too
engrossed with some agenda at work that I forgot to talk to her which I used to
do in moments like this. I didn't even
notice her go inside the bathroom. In an instant, I turned around when I heard
someone wailing at the bathroom. It was too loud. It even sounded as though it
came from someone who is deeply hurt and desperate. I opened the door and I
noticed the muffled cries from her, perhaps scared of me to find out she’s
crying. Those muffled cries suddenly reminded me of how I was when I got hurt,
but that was what I was when I was 12. My daughter is just 4 years old.
Alarmed, I went inside and hugged
her for a few minutes without saying anything. She tried to push me away. Then
I prayed aloud. I told God I was so sorry for hurting my only daughter. I told
God that I was so wrong for wanting her to be perfect right away when I wasn't
even perfect as I am. When I opened my eyes, I didn't notice she was already
calm and praying too. That was then that I talked to her and asked for
forgiveness. After all, I don’t think she now thinks as a four-year-old thinks.
Right there, I know her comprehension as to what is happening is as sharp as
that of a twelve-year-old’s.
She forgave me. I can sense it
through her hugs and smile. And yes, that smile was priceless. That brought me
back to being her friend once again.
Love begets love, in my case is
not true all the time. As to my daughter and husband, they don’t hold back even
if what they’re getting is a measly dime meant for a beggar so to speak. They
continue to give me more than enough love which does not suffocate but one that
has become my subsistence.
As I said I love them so
terribly. That’s the only reason I am constantly trying not to hold love in.
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