There are books written about it, there are songs sung about it… Independance.

It can be empowering, people search for it, wanting to grasp at it, hold onto it forever… I held onto mine since I was six years old.

I walked my own path, I smiled all the time, not caring about what anyone thought about me… I was my own person… I was good at sport, I made friends wherever I went.  I was strong and independant.  A trait I taught myself.

I very rarely got angry, in fact I dont remember a time when I was raging angry.  I never wanted anyone to die, I was just living my life and those who wanted to come, came.

I am now 24.  18 years since the first day I discovered this thing called independance.  It was somewhat empowering, but I didnt realise the consequences such a ‘gift’ would have, until now.

I have the life I have because I worked hard for it.  I put alot of energy into the things around me. If I didnt find what I wanted, Id keep looking until I got it. All the time I spent building my life, some of those close to me, had theirs fall down around them.

People say moving out when I was sixteen was a good decision, others think it was bad… each to their own I guess. For me, it was the best decision for me at that time.  Independance was official the moment I paid my first lot of rent. Thats when my choices became solely my responsibility. I was holding my own hand…

Last night I realised Ive been holding my own hand for a long time, and pushed away the hands that are meant to help you.

There are moments in my life, some imperfect, that this ‘pushing away’ was a good thing, in other times I should have reached for them with my arms at full stretch.

I would lie if I stated that I had no regrets in my life.

I regret not letting my mother hold me.  I regret not reaching for the hand of my older sister who has played the protector role her entire life.  I regret that these people who I love whole heartedly dont know how I see them. Maybe I never told them.

I love my mother.  I admire that she can still breathe through everything she has been through, and seen the things she has had to see.  I love her for allowing me to succeed at the things I have done, for somehow making it work, for feeding us, for putting us all in that rooma and protecting us.

I love my sister.  She is my guardian angel.  She protected me from soo much, and I feel priviledged to stand beside her.  I am sorry I never opened my mouth at the moment she needed me to.  I want her to know I will always fight for her… her strength in incredible, and my pride for her overrides any pride I have for anyone else.

My family is not the type from a hollywood rom-com movie.  If it was then I wouldnt be the person I am today.  I am who I am because of them. I draw strength from my sister, I draw pride from my mother, I draw logic from my younger sister, and I draw loyalty from the youngest of us all. I draw the knowledge from my grandmother, the lessons in which I learn from her continue to shape my life to this day.

I dont speak of my family much, or my personal life as many of my friends have told me over the past few weeks. I know that I am silent on this subject, but its not because Im ashamed, embarassed or humiliated.  Its because I am scared that letting you all in means I sacrifice my independance.

I held my own hand for 18 years and Im trying not to push the others away. I walk with people beside me now, not following. I am only human 🙂