What happened was this...
Miss K had been suspecting for a while that her maid had been playing fastest fingers first around the house. After months of consistently losing money and trinkets from the kitchen, her cupboards and bags, she finally decided to put an end to it. And no matter how insignificant the matter, it feels good to have a say in what happens in our lives and to us. No matter how fleeting, the illusion of control is essential for our survival...
So anyway, together, we set up the web cam, left money in her bag and tottered off to lunch. In the one hour we were away, our minds kept going back to what might be going on in the house and what we'd see in the video. It was juvenile, but I was excited. Just one of those silly things that you do simply because it'll make for a great story some day. So exactly an hour after we left, we rushed home to check if she'd stolen any more money, and more importantly, if the camera had captured everything. Sure enough, the money was missing. But what we saw on the camera stunned us. So basically, before stealing the money, the maid had put the lens cap on. We could hear the rustle of money, but the screen remained a resolute blank. A few minutes later, the money was gone and the lens cap was off.
To say that Miss K and I were left speechless would be an understatement. We just kept looking incredulously at each other for a few minutes. This was like a slap across the face. I don't know a better way of saying, "So what you gonna do?"
Nothing.
The answer is nothing. Miss K will no doubt fire the maid and not pay her the month's salary. But it's not about the money... It's about the nothingness of the situation Miss K now finds herself in. Because beyond putting up a token fight, there's really nothing that can be done about the situation. It's bad enough when you know it. But it's infinitely worse when your opponent knows it to. Understandably, Miss K was upset. I was too, for her.
On the way back home tonight, I heard something very upsetting. It was a chapter I thought I had finished writing. I'd even thought that the ink would finally dry this time around. But I guess it was stupid of me to assume so. Because dignity doesn't come with a price tag. And some people only understand the language of buy, sell and auction. I made the mistake of allowing one such person access to my life and my feelings. And now I was paying the price. Which is fine, but I had truly thought my time in this self-constructed prison was over. I thought I'd turned the corner. That the worse was behind me.
And for some reason I thought of Miss K and the maid. And I realised that it might be a somewhat watered down version of the feeling, but Miss K was probably feeling what I was: a searing feeling of helplessness. Because when it comes right down to it, there's really nothing I can do about what's happening in my life, either. As a fairly intelligent and extremely stubborn girl, I was used to controlling my life and making the decisions that steered it in a certain direction. So the helplessness that I feel now is a new experience. Which brings me to the point of this post: what do you do when you can't do anything?
Since last weekend, I've been feeling like I'm sitting in the passenger seat rather than the driver's in the journey of my life. There are so many questions in my head. So many feelings, some of them rather self-destructive too, that I've been trying to deal with. But nothing seems easy or manageable anymore. There's a debilitating sense of sadness that just won't go. This whole week, I've cried myself to sleep. I've woken up with swollen red eyes, tried to bury myself under work and felt like acid was being poured on my insides every time I realised what a public spectacle my life has become.
When the sadness abates, it's place is taken by anger. Why should I be given this private trip to hell? How can this be my lot in life? I know it's churlish to look at the ceiling in the night and wonder, for the thousandth time, 'why me?'. Why should I become this non-trusting, cynical person because someone else thought I wasn't worth it? You think you'll find the answer in tears, you think you'll find the answer in anger, you think that if you ask the questions often enough, try and make some sense of what happened, you'll finally reach a place where it doesn't hurt quite this much. If such a place exists, I haven't found it yet. All that happens is that every time you torture your mind with the questions, the knife that feels like a permanent resident in my gut now, twists more painfully, it cuts me up deeper, makes me bleed more in places that I can't show to people. And in places that I won't talk about.
The questions hurt like hell. Not having an answer to any of them hurts even more.
After the fourth or fifth malicious rumour we heard about me, Miss N told me that when it gets this ugly, walk away. The other person may not have any dignity or pride, but we can never compromise on ours. It's sound advice. It would be the sensible thing to do. Except, how do I walk away from my own life. And if I walked away right now, wouldn't that mean treating myself like the dirty little secret that someone else has reduced me to? I can't just cut off a whole portion of my life, right? I can't pretend that it didn't happen. Because it did. Am I ashamed of it? No.
Miss N, in her nicer moments, says that I am an 'exceptionally mature' 24-year-old. But I don't feel mature anymore. I don't know if I even want to be that person for a while. For the first time in my life, I want to be taken care of like all other girls are. I want to be hugged and told that everything will be okay. I want to be able to believe it. I don't want to be scarred forever. The idea of giving up on friends and friendship scares me. I want to be able to behave like any other 24-year-old girl who got her heart broken. I don't want to be strong anymore.
So here it is: I lost. You won. You broke me. And I can't do anything about it. Congratulations. Isn't that what you wanted all along?
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