The Scapegoat…

Scapegoat

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It seemed I was cursed from the day I was born, my introduction to the world or anyone I came into contact with as a child, was “that’s the one, that made her mum mad”. A young innocent child could cause so much damage at such a young age. The humiliation and guilt was often covered up by an expressionless poker face, where I learnt the art of pretending. An impressionable young mind, riddled with blame, shame, and baggage, due to the ignorance of people’s attitude towards mental health. Like a puppet being made to show my face and to hear them say,

“ Yes this is the youngest one, the one that caused the illness”, I was fuming inside, but with little understand and unable to speak back, I kept the anger contained and tried to ignore, if you hear this statement enough times, it starts becoming a script. My selfless attitude and having to give was a necessity, as I felt I had caused this, by being a baby an actually crying, as if a child has control over their emotions and their immediate needs when they are first born.  My early start to life began with accusatory and blame, so what hope was there for me when my basic foundation was already rocky.

My journey of healing had started, but it took me 31 years to really see the dysfunctional dynamics of a family setting, which I had no control or choice over. This was the card that life had dealt me, it made me understand so much about why I feel I so guilty in saying no and why I put up with toxic people and situations for as long as I do. That inner anger was the driving force to lead to many rebellious acts and decisions, some good some bad. The anger was destroying me, the repetition of my earlier experiences seeped into my psyche and always criticising me for something that wasn’t even my fault.

Love, compassion and trust were already at the bargaining stage from a young age and how dare I defy anything requested from the people I caused so much misery for. I didn’t have a say in matters, my feelings didn’t count, I did not matter and my happiness certainly didn’t count.

I was trying to escape my reality, so I found ways of trying to cope, be it school, academics, work or relationship, but the fact is the unconditional love which should come from a parent was missing, there’s only so much you can put down to mental health, but I really believe it was more so character. That the parent always knows which child will end up giving the most and could be easily manipulated, that your very existence in this planet is to serve them and never think about yourself. Not realizing no matter what you do, how many things you sacrifice nothing will ever be enough because there is something fundamentally wrong with the parent and no amount of “fixing” will help them, because they do not want to be helped.

They thrive on attention, pity and victim mentality.  Cutting all ties once and for all is the only way to set yourself free from a continuous heartache and expectation, because they will never change, so it’s down to you to make that change and get back to a life where you can start again, but on solid grounds and firmer foundation, knowing you must never look back.

Refusal to conform led to being the black sheep, but where I thought I am just rebellious and with time things will be ok, I was just deluding myself. The problem was with me, even when I am not at home, I am continuously being blamed for deaths, troubles, fights, illness, the list was endless and there is actually no respect for me as an individual, not as a child, an adult or even a human being, There is no empathy or compassion because there is something seriously wrong with them, but rather than admitting and facing it themselves, it’s easier e to project that onto another and form a pact.

I use to envy loving families and wondered why they were so happy, but felt I always missed out, that I could see what real love, humanity, compassion and empathy looked like, but I only experienced that once I left the home and seen the world. I could see the results of what and how they shaped an individual and wondered why I lacked so much that my family couldn’t love me, I always thought it was because I ran away to be with a guy who was not of the same cultural background, when really it was easier to say that, then to say out loud that they didn’t want me and the very fact I was planning on having my own life, would be so detrimental to the very need of them having a target.

Having no hopes and dreams for me, hoping if they put me down enough, I would become submissive and “dumbed down”, not to get anywhere in life, education or even have a partner who would dare love me. That would leave me no choice to marry someone of their choice, so that my husband could also join their hidden agenda of serving them and nothing more, be it financial or emotional, to ensure they were able to be resourceful in every capacity.

I was meant to love these people because they were “family”, which in my mind equates to loyalty, but how can you be loyal to people who did nothing for you and bought you nothing but emotional and psychological harm.

That those rules imposed on me, were not imposed on any of my siblings and mistakes were forgiven for relatives who had also made mistakes. In which they were welcomed back with open arms and back to joking around, full of acceptance and love, but with me my name, was not to be uttered.

Grieving for a family, that you know still exist but making a conscious choice that you are an orphan, that you can never look back, because if you do, it would potentially lead you back to where you started and that acceptance must come from within and it may take a lifetime to unlearn all the negative things that were ever said about you and the things you learnt at home, is not how the world is supposed to be. That they will still be there years on still with the same poisonous mindset and the ones that stayed quiet to keep the peace, were never on your side, because by staying silent is accepting, therefore just as guilty.

That the hatred could be so deep that they will leave you in a hospital psychiatric ward, to teach you a lesson and even when you are already low, ensure they kick you down a few more times, to make sure you never get back up. Use the time where you are so fragile, to play even more games that evil can take place in many forms and ultimately hoping you would beg and they would take you back to be another slave.

Finally, when enough is enough, they discard you looking for another family trash can to start the process again…

So no more waiting in vain for acceptance, hope and validation, because really and truly who would want to be that, as crazy as I am and after so many years, I am ready to permanently cut ties, with no looking back, because I owe this to myself, to become the person I should have been given the right tools and understanding to start gain and lucky enough I am able to do so at the age of 31. That my inner dialogue will be that I disowned them and with no regret…

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Life’s Uncertainties…..

 

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Working towards something always helps, but what if you become obsessed by it, not leaving any room for flexibility and just striving for more. I was so driven by the restrictions that were put on me when I was growing up and although very angry, I used the anger to fuel my motivation, but I didn’t realise was I was getting ill and heading down a path of destruction.

My health was on the decline, with each year going by, I was becoming more successful financially and the doors of the world were wide open, I couldn’t stop, not when I came this far. It seemed every time I seemed to settle for something and dead straight on following one route, god had another thing in store for me. I was envious of the people who had never left their hometown, stayed in jobs for years and although I kept saying one day, I will do the things that gave me personal satisfaction; to be honest I probably wouldn’t because I become complacent.

Fear of the unknown, it seemed it was a repeated pattern in my life, with family, friends, personal relationship and now jobs. I was forced to become aware of the fragility of life and health and not having a plan. As organised as I was, I didn’t even factor in my health, in my mind I was young and invincible, health problems were for old people, not for hard workers like me. It was quite the opposite, one day you have everything and the next you can’t even get out of bed, that you are planning your suicide. That life can get so on top of you and that you can’t believe that God could be so cruel to take away things that you have worked so hard for. What did I do that was so wrong, that he could hate me so much?

I was scared of having to live with the consequences of failing to die after suicide and having to deal with the permanent or damage afterward, that I was looking at a solution of making sure death was imminent and I didn’t fear it. That I had enough, I spoke to god even trying to negotiate a deal, asking him to relieve me of this stress of life and pain and I will do whatever it takes. I wasn’t getting answers and I was just there sleeping my life away, with no motivation, hope and joy.

I couldn’t blame anyone, although I tried, the reality was I couldn’t change them, I could only change myself. I had no compassion for myself, like I did for others, there were some things that I could not control and was born into, for someone who likes to be organised and in control, I had to just give in and let nature takes its course.

No amount of motivational videos, films could get me out of this rut, I could only remember all the travels, study and all that I had accomplished and that was it now, I have done my time, I was ready to go. I did not think I would have any goals after completing my degree. It was when a friend, who doesn’t say much, said the simplest thing, that made so much sense,

I told him I achieved everything I wanted now… he said, “Make more goals

The trauma of a long stay in hospital and resisting help, … he said, “It’s a retreat”.

My stubbornness and refusal to accept any help from anyone, again he said.. ”it’s time to bank in all that work you did giving and now it’s time to receive. It was just deposited for you, this is your time”.

He had an answer for everything, I was lost for words and I couldn’t even argue back with him. So simple and yet easy, but I was so stuck in my head and thoughts, I didn’t even think there was an option out of this mess.

So I thought if I have to live, maybe I can join a missionary, that way I can run away from facing my fears, but it seems you can’t join a missionary if you have a student loan, so that was ruled out. I looked at euthanasia, so I wouldn’t be a burden on anyone and can go quietly, I thought they might be a black market somewhere where maybe I can do it on the cheap, seems that was too expensive also.

After months of resisting, getting angry, feeling emotional and teary, then not feeling anything, it seemed I had to just go with the flow and learn patience and that my life has always been a rush to jump and just distract, but for once I have to face myself and that has had to be the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

With time, I started to embrace my difficulties and learning to adapt to a new different life, with a changed attitude. I am no longer rushing around, where I would be so quick and available to do anything to not face my own grief, rescuing others, I became broken in the process and the only person I should be focused on healing is myself.

I was holding on with a firm grip on a life I worked so hard to create and I wasn’t about to let it go but was forced to and it was a matter of life and death.  No matter how many achievements, it means nothing if you can’t appreciate and enjoy life or the simple things. Yes, I miss my old life, but it was time to grieve the death of the old me and learn new ways of coping and unlearning bad habits, that led me to this point. I thought if I read on all facts and attend all the necessary support classes, I would magically be cured and that was it, but unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that and that it’s a process and they will be ups and downs. To acknowledge my nature is never to just settle for mediocre and as much as I want to be like everybody else, that isn’t for me. My nature is to always challenge, not purposefully trying to be difficult, but just the way I am and always have been. My thought process can’t just accept the unacceptable and always looking at better ways of doing things, but first I accept I must apply and start with me.

 

Good Mourning……

Loving Memorial Grief Memory Tribute Bereavement

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There is nothing like death that really enables you to see how short life really is. Losing my father to a sudden death, was a shock and although I thought I had grieved the loss, it wasn’t until I had become very low did I realise I am still mourning. The regret and resentment of lost words, not being able to be there in the last few months of his life, the broken relationship that never did get resolved took its toll on me, carrying the guilt, that I had somehow caused it and that I was responsible for his death.
They say it takes an average of 2 years to be O.K with a death of a loved one and now it’s approaching a decade, but although I have come to accept the situation, I never really got over it nor did I mourn, I just carried on and convinced myself, I was O.K, things happen, that’s life. With no distraction of work, studies and other things that can distract one’s life, I am being forced to dig deep and really grieve for a situation that had a severe impact on me and my outlook on life.
Every year my father’s death anniversary approaches and although it gets easier, it still has a significant impact. I have come to realise that those around me had moved on, but I am still there looking for unanswered questions, an opportunity to make things right, but how can you do that when the person no longer exists, with hope that he is watching me, gives me slight contentment, knowing I am ok and not alone.
My father was a very angry man, but with a big heart, underneath all that anger he was always kind to me and I never really did appreciate him, it’s funny he was always teaching me, but I didn’t realise. He was an orphan and uneducated, but he was smart, wise, intelligent and resourceful. He was a self-taught and self-made man, with a lot of pride.
He often played the role of mum and dad, where most dads’ leave stuff for the mothers to do, my dad never did shy away from housework, he cooked, cleaned and was able to look after himself and pretty much raised me. He always encouraged me to learn, maybe not about the stuff I really wanted to learn, but never the less he always encouraged me to learn about my culture, religion and do well in school. I did try to skive off school and refused to go many times, but he made sure I went.
I can only now really feel how hard life must have been for him, being an orphan and not having anyone to rely on but himself and having to stay strong and looking after the whole family, that he was suffering inside alone. He didn’t have a big support network and I have always known him as spiritual, I have heard he wasn’t always like that. He liked his long walks, reading and writing and spent a lot of time in the garden. Despite what he did he always kept going and even before his death he had gone shopping for the house.
I held onto a lot of anger and resentment thinking he didn’t want me in the house that he was ashamed of me, but what I didn’t really see is that he was setting me free. A few months before he died, I was asked to leave the house, I couldn’t take his look of disappointment and I left in the middle of the night. I did call my mum, but fear never let me call him, because of embarrassment and I would not know what to say. I heard he was in hospital and I plucked up the courage to see him, he was always in and out of hospital, ever since I was 11. I was too young to understand, but he had a triple heart bypass and the doctor had told my family they gave him 10 years. But he seemed very active despite his health conditions, he was a chronic smoker, but I don’t think that was what caused it, I believe it was anger and emotional hurt of his life’s struggle.
I wasn’t informed of this, probably because I was too young, or maybe because I didn’t matter, I was usually the last one to find out, either through hearsay or just when things have happened. All the thoughts of regret and not being able to appreciate him more, I do not know, but the overthinking is what leads me to a downward spiral of guilt and regret. But I remind myself, I was able to show him love as a daughter, by little things like showing affection, which I know he never got from my siblings. I hold onto the little things I did for him, because I genuinely cared for him and wanted him to be proud.
When I got my exam results, it was my father who was cuddling me and very proud, when I passed my driving test, it was him who hugged me and gave me praise, when I won some money on premium bonds, he was very happy, I did offer him but he refused to take it and gave me a kiss instead.
One of the proudest moments in my life, is when I was able to take my dad to an appointment, have him sit next to me on the passenger’s side of my first car and him worrying about taking care when parking, it was dreadful, but never the less it was what bought me joy. I linked arms with him and took him in and for once he could depend on me.
My dad never drove and probably didn’t see many women driving in my community at this time and here I was the youngest, taking him and showing him, that actually dad you didn’t do too badly, as I learnt and now becoming independent. He did want to keep me a baby for as long as he could and tried to smother me and keep me young, but I was in a rush to grow up, I regret that now!
I introduced my dad to Christmas dinner, where I would use my limited culinary skills and he always said it was nice, he did like the vegetables, I don’t think the chicken was spicy enough for his liking, but it was his appreciation that mattered the most.
He was a chef, so very hard to please, never the less he taught me at a young age how to cook my first curry and always complimented it and knew it was my favourite dish, so he always made it when I was sick or when I came back from a long trip with my family.
Where traditionally its mothers that buy personal toiletries for their daughters, he bought my first pads and bra and there was no shame in that and I wasn’t embarrassed either, where most girls would be.
He was always collecting me from school and greeted me with a chocolate bar, a different one everyday, probably why I am a chocaholic.
In Ramadan, where we fast until sunset, he would tell me that I can keep it until midday, as for children that’s all they have to do and gave me a chocolate as a treat for trying. Although my mother would moan, he would ignore her. I was surprised to open a suitcase when he came back from a religious pilgrimage, that he bought back make up, much to my mum’s disapproval, his theory was if I was going to wear make- up, at least it would be “halal” products. He was always solution focused, which I am glad I inherited from him, amongst his bluntness and honesty. But those were the qualities I loved about him, his delivery wasn’t perfect, but the message was.
I taught him about equal opportunities too, for a strict and stubborn man, that was very hard for him I am sure. But when he bought my brother his bike for no reason, I decided to sit on a step, with my arms crossed, looking at him with a frown, as I wanted a Barbie. He looked at me and went past a few times, trying to ignore me and after an hour or so, he caved in and took me to the shop to get it, whilst I was there he asked if I wanted anything additional with the Barbie, quite to my surprise, I was overjoyed as I knew no-one else had one. Maybe he realised I was just as stubborn as him and he couldn’t ignore me, so might as well give me the best for effort.
My dad, taught me to love others, where colour and language was not a barrier, this was demonstrated with my childhood friends and neighbours who were from different backgrounds, and he always said I must treat them the same and I did, when he got me a sweet, he gave one to my neighbour too. He taught me to share and that friends come from all backgrounds.
It took a decade after his death, to find out that he wanted to accept my ex-partner, who my family members have decided to disown me for, but he was open to meeting him and I carried the shame for a long time, although he never had that conversation with me, I never received the message. It breaks my heart that fear stopped me from talking to him and spending more time with him, instead of being scared of him.
The last time I seen him , was a few weeks before his death, although he asked me to leave the house , I wanted to see him. No-one knew what was round the corner and I myself thought well he always gets through his challenges; he is a fighter and just wanted the dust to settle before I resume any kind of communication. But something told me to go see him this time, to see him linked up to machines, vulnerable and helpless, made me see how fragile he had become, I stood at the door, trying to hide my fear and hoping I wasn’t going to aggravate him, I glanced at him and he smiled and cried out loud. I had never seen my dad cry like that, he held me and just wanted to hold me and kept saying, whatever you do in life do not destroy my honour. In my head I was thinking, haven’t I already. By me running away from home, by making a mistake, why are you saying that.
He then proceeded to ask me about my job and my salary, how much my rent was and I was left confused, thinking why doesn’t he want me back home, why isn’t he having a go at me and telling me I must go home and get married. I was very confused at what he said, I got a call from my ex-partner and I wanted my father to meet him at that time, but just the look on my father’s face and my intuition, told me not to do that and now I am glad they never did meet. My father wasn’t silly, but I could see despite him disapproving of my ex-partner maybe he sensed he wasn’t a nice person and not the right guy for me.
I lay on my dad’s chest and let him stroke my hair, I didn’t cry, I didn’t get sad I never showed emotion. I do not know why. I was angry because I thought he has left me and he doesn’t want me anymore, what I didn’t realise was he was setting me free and giving me his blessing.
Over the years he would say, when I go no one is going to be here for you, so stop wasting your time following others, not even your family members will be there for you. I was so shocked at the thought of what he was saying; not realising that what he was predicting was the truth.
That when I went abroad with my family, he specifically instructed my mother, the way she goes is the way she comes back, meaning she is going single, she is coming back single.
My father never pressured me into marriage, but it was after his death that I was able to see the truth for what it was.
I spent a long time filled with anger at the thought he didn’t want me that he abandoned me, but really he was letting me learn on my own. Although I accept he is in a better place now. Where he is not suffering, I wish he was here and I felt that when I was about to get married, when I graduated and many other successes in life, but he lives through me. Everytime I feel alone or I am low, he appears and sends a message or appears in a dream and I am grateful. Because even if it does just exist in my mind, it brings me peace and I feel loved and know I am protected with his guidance and that gives me strength to never give up.
So Mourning doesn’t have to be a bad thing, if it reminds you to reflect and appreciate life and time. Mourning can change perspectives and although associated as a sad time, the tears I shed will be because I once met an angel, who I can proudly call my father.
A reminder that I cannot give up, because I have been lucky enough to experience genuine love.

The Right to Life….

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Upon reflection on a day of remembrance, honouring those who have been killed by their own family for simply wanting to break free of the strict establishment they were born into and for merely wanting to pursue their dreams, had cost them their lives.

Simple things like wanting to have friends, having an education and a say in their own future was unheard of, stripped of their basic human rights and violated by those who are meant to love them the most. Children are meant to be gifts to their parents, they have not chosen to be born, but parents have decided to bring them into the world and yet make them feel like nothing but a burden. Even in the animal kingdom, an animal’s natural instinct is to protect their own, its instinct kicks in and they are not as evolved as humans, so what’s their excuse.

If anything some parents psychologically and emotionally damage their children and claim that “heaven lies under their mother’s feet”. So does that mean everything must be done to keep her happy, isn’t that her own job? A child cannot fix a parent’s issue, we cannot expect others to have to live their life according to what makes others happy, because you are denying yourself the right to be happy and wasting your life.  Does that then mean you accept emotional, psychological and physical abuse and live your life to please them and their agenda, but what about your own? Once parents have long gone, it is yourself you need to live with, so why is the importance not on improving yourself and being happy and enjoying the fruits of what life has to offer and ensure you are able to do that in a safe way. Maybe that’s what people need to look into before embarking on a journey of parenthood. Giving a child a positive experience, teaching values and respect for all living things, not just their family code of honour. To give without an expectation, otherwise, that’s not love its just business.

A trade in which you are sold to the highest bidding family, to train you into submission through all kinds of abuse. To enable you to become financially illiterate so you can never know how to have basic life skills to live independently. The right to further education denied in-case you get too smart for your own boots and therefore less desirable to be a competent slave, because an educated slave is a dangerous one, just in case you decide to leave and actually make a decent living. Getting married at a young age, because there is a likely chance you would be unspoilt from life and most likely a virgin.  The younger you are the easier it is to control you and the likelihood to adjust to this way of life. Only allowed to work if it benefits your family or your in laws, but ensure it is in a low skilled job, so therefore you would be happy with what you get and any ambitious drive is beaten out of you, as your priority should be to serve your family, husband or his family. A contract marriage in which generational wealth, inheritance and close family ties are strongly linked,  so if you think of stepping out, it will be worth your life.

Natural human emotions and feelings do not exist in their world, they breed children to ensure the slavery establishment and mentality exists and force love between strangers in marriages, in a bed and a way of life, where the only thing keeping the couple together is the need to please the community and their parents. A robotic way of life, in which real intimacy is never allowed to be experienced, but they enjoy the benefits of the western world, in terms of money and opportunity, whilst still holding onto a backward mentality.

Fear is what drives most of the oppressors to keep you on a tight leash, to ensure that you are profitable in their establishment, be it by providing financial means, food, legal status, inherited wealth and to live the same miserable life as them. In many cases it was the women who had encouraged and manipulated the husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers into carrying out the horrendous acts of crime against family members who wish to dare step out of the establishment, as meek as they appear, they often hold the cords to emotional blackmail and psychological torture and unfortunately make the males feel incompetent and question their masculinity if they do not honour the code.

People are now willing to step out and speak out about these horrendous crimes and have their voices heard, it will only be a matter of time until the establishment will need to be dismantled and those doing the crime held accountable.

Nothing is Forever

Nothing is Forever

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It’s a hard thing to accept, but the reality is nothing is forever, we are always evolving and this is evident with advanced technology, medical resources, and new discoveries. What I found challenging was not being able to express or think of improving an age-old cultural system of a slave establishment, in which the credentials of individual achievements were growing, but the cultural expectation and enforced traditions were what kept me a prisoner for so long. My quest for wanting and longing more has enabled me to achieve and experience many great things, but it was at a high price. I have lost friends, family and security along the way. On the one hand, I craved stability, but I found myself always moving homes, different locality, different people, different jobs, it was always constant change. Some were pre-meditated, but some came as sudden shocks, a sense of urgency. Not being able to say goodbye to loved ones who have passed on, friends who no longer want to share the same journey as you, so instead of being supportive, they project their insecurities on you, holding you back, not realising that friendship should not be bound by time, locality or beliefs.

It seemed every time I thought this was what I will accept as a consequence of making the right decisions and working towards a bigger goal, I failed to see and appreciate the smaller ones which were right In front of me. I often envied individuals, who have never left their hometown or have worked in the same job for 20 years and have been around familiarity, as I believed they were content, but my inner struggle with restlessness always pushed me to keep moving. I would be lying if I said, I didn’t get upset or hurt each time I got close to someone and for some reason or another, they had to move away or they were no longer part of my life. After the initial hurt, I try to remember the good times, as fond memories are the only things I wish to take with me, rather than excess baggage of hatred, it weighs you down and eventually makes you bitter. My longing for connection with people, but the fear of losing them, held me back for many years, as I know it would end up in heartache.  My selfish needs would want them around, but my love for them always sets them free, as it should be. So it’s easier to keep them away, which increases isolation and as much as I love my “me” time, it can become an addiction.

I can go from being very social to becoming quite a recluse; I never really liked crowds, as it was overwhelming and exhausting. Where once I was always out and at parties, it wasn’t really me, I much preferred a conversation in which I learn and share ideas about the world and life.

I once heard someone say, “The world has created workers. Not thinkers”, which really resonated with me, because I only met a few people in my life in which I could really connect and have those conversations with, some were inspirational, some had me questioning and learning, but they were meaningful.

Even with dreadful jobs, they were always one or two people, who made it that much easier, I knew I was being held back, I don’t really know why I am here, but it seems everywhere I go I seem to meet a few like-minded individuals and for a short period of time, they come and leave my life.

A re-occurring pattern of running away, being rejected, moving on and constant change, sometimes before I was ready, had never allowed me to settle, or get comfortable, like a traveller, I was only resting my head. My fears of missing out, living a life of regret and never being able to truly fulfil my true potential, was my inner drive, but what I didn’t expect was that my health was deteriorating in the process and it was only when I was forced to be hospitalised, did I accept that something had to change.

That I am not invincible, that you never know what is around the corner, that young age does not mean it can’t happen to you. I never looked at my life with regret, but still figuring out how to unlearn bad habits of overworking, constantly chasing the next big thing, that although I was defeated, I did not quit.

Although grieving for the loss of my old life, I have to look forward to starting again with new and improved tools for this new chapter of life. I know it’s a journey I have to face but will have to accept that things probably will never go back to the same, because I will have to live, not just survive and that maybe happiness didn’t come from the next big thing, job or event, but in the little things in life, which bring appreciation and joy.

That life is about constant change and adjustment, it’s what enables you to truly experience life in all its glory and being O.K no matter what happens.