A dream of Life

One of my fellow announcer just gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. She’s a few years younger than me and it’s her second child already. Like any normal sane human being, I congratulate her, send her love and prayers for the whole family. And she’s blessed with such beautiful family, of course I’m happy for her.

Anyway after that I can’t help but feeling a little sadness creeps into that small place I couldn’t point inside me. A pang of jealousy? Envy? Probably. I can’t help wanting the same thing. A loving and caring husband and beautiful babies that could fill my heart with warm unconditional love. Why do I sound really thirsty? Hahaha

I used to dream of that. Maybe I am still. But when you tasted the bitterness of failure that shook you to the core, dream seems kind of overrated. What if I am just not capable of becoming that person that I dream of? Of building something with a decent guy? Of motherhood? What if I crumble again when I dare to start dreaming another dream?

Not to mention the fact that I came from a divorced parents. I used to think that, well, what will guarantee that I won’t end up with the same fate once I married someone? What if again, I fail? But those questions screamed desperation and I hate being desperate. So I decided to deliberately put another perspective into the matter. So instead of failure, let’s talk about success first.

What is success? I never really put a thought about it until now. I don’t even have proper description for that. But I do believe something. You see every second any human has in their life passed with a purpose. Nothing is in vain. I believe God created human for something, nothing is useless. And when that purpose full filed, can we call it a success?

I used to think, success is when you get what you want and dream of. The school you want to enroll to, the perfect house, the perfect partner, the perfect family, the perfect job, and so on and so on. But life itself is never perfect. Perfectness sounds boring anyway. Even in movies, it is imperfectness that brings the color, the drama, the feel and sensation to the story, right? It’s what makes us human. We’re not angels nor evils.

So maybe I should stop thinking that I’ve been failed. Yes, I went to a terrible time and didn’t get what I dream of, but didn’t I somehow get through the affliction alive? I mean, here I am. Alive and breathing. I didn’t end my life because of the heartbreak. I am successful, in term of survival.

Is it safe to think that maybe – at least for now- this is where God wants me to be? For the journey isn’t through yet. Right?

I read somewhere that, if you’re still alive, it’s not the end. Not yet. And since I am a muslim, even death is not the end. It is just another phase that we must go through in order for us to reach the ultimate destination: the afterlife, where everything is immortal.

The heartbreak lasted for like-what- one or two years? More or less. Those were precious time where I got to find myself again though. I get to know me better. And I have to say that I’m quite pride of myself back then. At that moment I feel that I finally am able to enjoy life itself. No expectation, no retribution. Just me, trying to be happy with myself. That’s when I start to falling in love with myself. Finally!

Come to think of it, I remember. My friend whom we talked about earlier also came from a divorced family. But look at her now. She’s happily married with a good man and got 2 boys in 2 years of marriage. How amazing is that?

From that friend of mine, I learn. Never ever lose hope or give up on life. Life is a blessing. So as long as we’re alive, the blessing continues. Let’s go, baby, put your best smile and face the world bravely! I know you can. <3 p="">