I used to think of myself as a poor girl.
Poor me, I have to carry my own heavy shopping bags and take them home, by foot. Poor me, I have to constantly fight to find/keep a job so I can pay my own bills and live my own life. All the time. Poor me, I have to find out how to do things by myself. Poor me, I go to bed alone and I wake up alone every day.
And the list went on and on, under a sea of self-pity tears.
On the other hand, I used to look up to my housemate, who I saw as a powerful, strong and independent woman, who kept her job, made her own shopping and brought it home by herself, who travelled alone, who kept a house all by herself and didn’t even seem to be too worried about it. That was just it: she was an independent single woman. And I thought it was amazing and very remarkable.
That was when, one day, on my way home from a normal day at the office, I figured out: I am no less than her. Yes, I am younger, yes, I am still single and she is not anymore, yes, she is more confident than I am, but that is because I just found out this about me.
I am not a poor girl. I am a you go girl, who’s strong enough to fight her own battles with no shoulder to cry on when she suffers a loss, who keeps her world moving, never knowing what’s coming ahead.
I am no better than anyone else. I am just no worse either.