Monday, May 01, 2006

The Color of Money, Memories Within...

In my college days, I had this class; I think it was more of a psychology class where we were required to make reflection papers often, mostly pertaining towards the everyday encounters we have both in the outside world and in our homes. Eventually, this became my outlet in writing about what was going on in my mind, and writing it with gusto. I got high grades, but usually the grades did not matter to me, it was being able to let go of such pains that I was experiencing back then.

It just so happened that I had a bumpy road back then, I just got back to study again after my first and only child, Natazha Vanessa, was born. Just like most parents, the mother and their side were always the ones to have the first and last say on the baby, leaving me out of the cold and just earn a living to sustain all the needs of our kid.

I cannot say that I was a good provider. I mean, studying again, working part-time just to have extra income to buy diapers, milk and other necessities of my child was no easy task. I always felt down, since my former in-laws always put me down, saying I was no good, had no guts to raise a family of my own… well something usual for a pair of hypocrites who would just to ruin a person and make fun of him because he had nothing to prove. Along the way, my estranged wife as well came into the fray, making me the most depressed person in the world at that time. Well, who could blame them? I had nothing to show to my child, and Vanessa rarely had the knowledge of what was going on back then, didn’t understand anything and only had one side of the story. In short, what was instilled was she had a very irresponsible and incompetent father.

Just the same I took it all in stride. I was and am never the type to prove people wrong. I had nothing to show, not having graduated then, or working for my own keep. I endlessly relied on my parents, grandparents of both sides for support. Deep inside, I was a mess and no one would really understand and thanks to that class I had, I was able to retain some sanity in myself.

Today, people say I have come a long way. My parents, friends, even my daughter all say I have been through a lot and that they are proud of me. Honestly, these are just things that I feel like decorations for a person, but these entire mean nothing if the person is foreseen as an incompetent individual. But then again, gaining a degree, obtaining a good position at a young age, being able to bring up my child on my own and owning a network of selected friends, I am just glad to be alive and cherish these undertakings.

To some people money may be the most important thing in judging a person. To others, being who you really are and not pretending who people want you to be is the most important thing a person can truly make a person smile.

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