She thought this would be the last place to solve her problems. The lights gleamed brightly blinding her eyes almost fogging the reality which she thought could only be seen from her living room couch. A group of people sat in an array of chairs packed together like an audience. Nerves gripped her stomach like parasitic bed bugs under a mattress. A man stood in front of the stage introducing her as she walked across the stage. The bi-polar chorus of boos and praise sang in her ears after she sat down. Two men sat in chairs some feet away from her. She could feel the disgust seep from their breath with every word they spewed out to the host. The man with the wavy, salt-peppered hair sat down and coolly took out an index card. “We have the results,” he said in a calm voice. The ample room was saturated with intense anxiety. Every eye lay embedded on his card like it was made out of a million dollars. “Neither one of you is the father” he finally breathed out after what seemed like hours. The crowd gasped in shock and the men got up excitedly to dance around the room. The 23-year old woman’s mind went to a haze as the voices around her disappeared. The back room became a welcoming a blanket to the of emotions shrouding her essence. The familiar shadows of depression and guilt followed her out of the studio carefully hiding between the cracks of her broken heart.
We’ve all seen this situation or something similar whenever the lack of interest on television pulls us into the direction of the “Maury” show. It’s sad, it’s fun to look at and it keeps us positive about the little amount of misery left in our own lives. We can’t keep our eyes off this pathetic entertainment that’s overflowing the airwaves. Yet, it’s easy to ridicule and laugh at the situation because of the comfort of not being in it.
There’s a girl, barely a woman, who now has to deal with the lonely journey of raising a child on her own. Thoughts like, where’s her parents? how did this happen? why couldn’t she keep her legs closed? this is all her fault, race across our minds. But what I question is not whether she had love for those men, whether her parents cared about her or even the question of the hour, who’s the father? I question where is the love that could have ended this vicious cycle; the love for herself.
I’m sure (hopefully) that women like this will shower their babies with endless love and care. But if she’s protecting her child with all this love, who’s protecting her?
People get into relationships, fall in love, or even get married before they have that satisfying knowledge of self-worth. They go around looking for love in the wrong partners before they go looking for love with themselves. How can you fall in love with someone else before you fall in love with yourself?
You got to be able to look in the mirror every once in a while and see just how amazing you really are. You got to be able to see the beauty in the curves of your smile or the glint in your own eyes. You got to be able to understand what makes you tick, what makes you tremble, what makes you fall, what makes you glimmer and what makes you rise above the rest in your own exceptional qualities.
There’s a certain uniqueness to every character in this play we call life. Each of us need to discover the normal traits and the special traits before we fully give ourselves to someone else. It’s a beginning step on this journey we’re all taking. If we skip this step, we’re doomed to have the comfort of confusion and depression looming in our path for rest of our lives.
The wrong men and women or even the right ones will fall into our laps with a certain joy to what they think they’re seeing. But all they’re falling in love with is a lost soul who go from relationship to relationship in hopes of finding their love. All they needed to do was look a little closer and find the love within themselves. Love thy self first and it will set you free.