Crack…

Warning: Highly Addictive!

I Googled the word crack yesterday afternoon, and I was shocked when I got the results. It was lots of articles about cocaine. I was thinking of a completely different kind of crack, yet I can’t complain! It inspired this article. This serendipity in life…I love life because of these little moments. Some people call it the “Aha” moment.

Photo by Ramin Khatibi on Unsplash

The photo above is the crack I was thinking of…I thought I uploaded the image, so we are clear on what kind of crack I am writing about. The majority of us won’t like seeing this picture; there is the feeling of “something is wrong”, “it is not supposed to look like that”, and “it could get worse.” It is seldom we see this picture and say, “It is a natural process”, “It isn’t so bad”, and “It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Crack isn’t natural for us. Crack requires fixing. Crack requires our attention. Crack can’t be left alone. Crack isn’t supposed to be a part of us. Crack does not look good. Crack means something is wrong.

The beauty of writing is I can play with words. My imagination runs wild with words. I love them. Crack…could be cocaine, or, could be the imperfections that we have as humans. I won’t restrict it to mistakes. I probably should’ve for the sake of clarity. However, I choose to roam. There is a saying, “ Not all who wander are lost,” so here I am…wandering with crack.

My journey with crack has evolved throughout time. Evolved = evolution. Evolution isn’t a natural process. It, for the most part, is a consequence. Hence, it needs a cause to make it happen. In my case, evolution isn’t because of age and life’s experiences. Those are natural. The cause of my evolution is my inability to breathe, which forces me to reflect, evaluate, revisit, and change. The change isn’t limited to behavior; in large, it isn’t behavior. Two major changes are: following my intuitions and seeing from a new lens.

Crack number one…I wasn’t nurtured to like myself. I am not bashing my parents; I am simply identifying the words they’ve used to describe and encourage me. Their intention was good, and they delivered the best ability that they knew how. They believe that cracks are not good. They need to be fixed.

Strive to be correct. Avoid mistakes. Don’t speak up unless I have to. Take the suffering as life is full of those.

I could go on. Instead, I simplify. Cracks are not good. A whole smooth piece with no flaw is.

When I was 13, I lost my left ovary due to a large cyst. As a teenager, I knew very little about what ovaries meant to me. Words weren’t said. Nothing was addressed. As much as those, one aura was unmistakable: I will never be a whole smooth piece. I dwelled with the feeling until I was about 17. I could no longer breathe. I ran away from home. It only lasted for a couple of days before my dad found me. I took lots of aspirin, thought I could die from it; it was maddening four days that I had to keep on taking lots of them, yet found myself still breathing the following day!

On the fifth day, I started to reflect and ask myself this question, “Am I a coward? That’s why I am still alive?” I evaluated a way out of this misery. I admitted that I was not brave enough to keep on physically hurting myself. I couldn’t run away from home, not now. So, what’s next? This leads to crack number two…

I decided to focus on the future, meaning: I would study hard, get my doctoral, be an educator ( I always wanted to be a professor or a teacher since I was four years old), and be independent. Don’t get me wrong! I didn’t lose my happiness. I didn’t have any problems relating with others. I empathize with others.

At the same time, I built a vast, tall, thick wall surrounding myself. No one was allowed to enter the wall. While laughing, being there for others, enjoying little tidbits of life, I was super protective of myself. My aim was simple: one crack, no more. Everything was rosy for a while, until when I was twenty-five. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt, “Wow!” I remembered the day vividly.

It was in June. I couldn’t breathe seeing myself. I didn’t like what I saw…worse yet, I was terrified of what I saw. I had this vision of myself as a person who loves color, loves to touch, see, hear, converse intensely, is free-roaming with her thoughts, loves to listen to stories of others as a barista ( love coffee!), loves to cook, bake, and have great company to enjoy them with, enjoys trying out without fear, growing and enjoying moments…none of those I saw in the mirror! NO!!!! Where did this lead to?…

I experienced many cracks…some were more hurtful than others, some were allured me to go back to the protective wall, some made me howl, some cracked me up…in short, the cracks keep on…they are highly addictive after all!

Those cracks, however, are no longer “splitting” parts of me…they, the ones that help me to put together an “evolved me.” I choose cracks. I could keep on using them to figure out who I am. The way I look at it: if I were going to be on this earth for some 80 or 90 years, it is illogical or impossible ( I am not sure which word is more appropriate) that I would be the same person throughout those years.

So, Yes! I am addicted to cracks…I have the needs for them. I want to live with intent until I leave this earth. My intent is to serve the earth, and I can’t do that unless I am ready to keep on evolving. Not through judgments. Not through guilts, not through shames.

Through reflections, evaluations, revisitation, admissions, that lead to change. My smooth whole yesterday may or may not be the same as today. Yet, I will always be a smooth whole, “flawless”… It is not because I don’t have cracks… It’s because I am addicted to cracks.

Are you?…

Food of thought:

I read a piece by Didi Orajiaku “Grateful Amidst my Pain,” and I feel good to be a part of humankind. One sentence touched me, “ I’m not 100% alright now, but I know I will be — and I’m grateful for that knowledge.” The gratitude for that knowledge, indeed, is what keeps us going…

I repeatedly listen to this song when I reflect, evaluate, revisit…

“I can’t stand to fly. I am not that naive. I’m just out to find. The better part of me.”…(Five For Fighting)…

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Eko BP

craves for more adventures and connections with others through the “why” and the “how” with kindness, challenges, incompleteness, with a touch of cowardliness