“Such a pungent smelling past!”
That line above was what I used to hear from non-working housewives from our previous neighborhood. When the children were at school and the husbands were at work, these wives gathered themselves in someone’s backyard. Their topics ranged from the imperfections of the husbands to the challenges of family life, to misbehaved children, and mostly about the rumors around town. Since we have a conservative culture, anyone who fails in his or her life would be ridiculed, if not openly insulted or criticized.
This kind of practice should not have been acknowledged, yet has become a normal part of our daily grind. Thus, it goes around that one should not commit any mistakes, or else he or she may suffer from some kind of emotional crucifixion.
Because I was a good daughter, I was often appreciated and looked up to.
However, it came to pass that I faltered in my steps too. I was carried away by my humanness. My greatest admirers then turned to be my worst critics. Nothing I could do than face the consequences of my actions.
Yesterday, as I rummaged through my old notes and journals, I happened to read my writings about such experience: The pains, the aloneness, the embarrassment and the feeling of worthlessness. To my surprise, the words in those notes no longer managed to creep into my heart. In short, I was no longer affected. Which means, I have been healed from such unwanted past. I then smiled at it and put those notes in the wastebasket. I no longer need them, for it no longer defines who I am in the present moment.
I am so happy to be free at last and found peace with my past. The pungent smelling past no longer has power over me.
And, if not busy housewives still define me according to my past, it no longer matters. What matters is, I define who I am by who I know myself to be in the present moment.