A GAME OF TRUTH AND DARE...

A GAME OF TRUTH AND DARE…


The bottle spins around and around. It stops. Truth or dare –a game I’ve never played before. The top of the bottle points at me.

"Truth," I choose.

I’m in a cabin in the middle of the woods, enjoying a long weekend together with my girlfriends. I’m feeling  gutsy tonight.
The question is asked, “What’s your life’s purpose?”

I grow quiet. Wow, that’s a tricky one –I’m thinking. It’s not a difficult question. I should be able to answer that. I strain my brain, searching for an adequate answer.

Five of us are in the room. Except for one woman, we are all old friends from college. My throat feels dry all of a sudden. It’s like I’m being drawn into a corner, trapped –unable to escape.
What in heavens name is wrong with me? Just answer the stupid question.
I try but I can’t. I’m tongue-tied.

I throw a short glance at my friends. They’re all staring at me, waiting for me to reply. I feel naked under their stares.
I put on my usual mask, fake a smile and quickly direct the attention away from me. It works –for a split second. Apparently they’re not about to let me off the hook so easily. And here I thought a game of truth and dare would be fun.

These last couple of years have been tough. Actually, my entire life has been somewhat of a roller coaster ride. Born ill, with major allergies and suffering from severe asthma attacks, I’ve learned to isolate myself at a very young age –not wanting to be a constant nuisance to people around me.

My parents, sister and I were forced to leave a warm and comfortable climate due to my health issues. We arrived in Europe, dirt poor and not accustom to the cold weather. But we survived – eventually. Then at age twelve my innocence was taken away from me. With it my trust in people disappeared. I went through life like a bird without wings. Not able to express my troubled thoughts. As a result I bottled everything up inside, put on a plain mask and acted happy.

I'm thirty-four years old and still wearing that same damn mask, pretending everything is all good while it's not.

Tonight I guess my friends noticed my distress. They are worried and want answers –so does everyone else who cares about me. And no matter how hard I try, I can no longer avoid them. I’m forced to face the troubling truth of my empty existence.

A woman in her mid-thirties, living with her parents, with nothing to call her own. Indeed -what is my life’s purpose? 

Tears start to trickle down my face. I have never let down my guard in public. It’s kinda humiliating. The strong woman with the mask is no longer in control. 

Alright then, it’s like this; “Compared to everyone around me I feel completely useless. It's like everyone on this crazy planet has a life but me. I’m constantly ill, have been on sick leave for five years, trying to make some kind of sense of my life. I’ve cried and laughed, put myself out there but at the same time remained reserved; unable to let myself go completely and simply just enjoy what life has to offer.


Tonight I realize that I have not been living at all. I’m nothing but a zombie, an insignificant figure, always pleasing others but myself.

Why?

The answer is clear; I’m not important enough. I don’t matter. I’m a shadow that cannot be bothered. I take pictures but I’m never in them. I’m the unseen, the unheard soul. I’m like a child crying out but no one hears me. I suffer in silence, afraid of life. 

How do I explain myself to others without looking like a complete loser? And most importantly how do I make people love me if I haven’t yet mastered the power to love myself first? I lost my innocence and along with it my passion for life. I live in constant fear for my safety, scared that someone will try and hurt me again. I don’t know how to trust any more, although I keep trying. I avoid large crowds to avoid embarrassing panic attacks. I feel dirty, afraid people will see right through me. For the stains are still there, engraved in my soul forever. 

For a brief moment it looked like my life was back on track. I got myself a temporally job, returned to society feeling useful again. I started making plans for the future. I was not my old self yet, but content nevertheless.

Then fate crushed my party –literally. On my birthday I collapsed and passed out. I had abdominal pain. I was immediately rushed by ambulance to the hospital. I usually don’t give birthday parties. But on that particular day I was feeling pretty good about myself and wanted to share my happiness with my family and friends. But instead I had to cancel the party and ended up spending my entire birthday in the hospital undergoing several tests. After an ultrasonograph and CT scan, they discovered a cyst bigger than a human fist, growing on one of my ovaries. They had to remove the cyst immediately.

Luckily the other ovary remained untouched –but still I felt like the pressure had been turned up a notch. It’s difficult now and days to find the right partner, raise a family and if one's lucky, grow grumpy and old together. However, since the surgery I constantly feel like I’m running out of time. I’m trying to keep up with everyone around me, but I keep failing. I’m out of breath and no longer able to keep up the front.

Guilt keeps eating away inside me. Guilt toward my parents for having to relocate to another country; guilt for having such a fragile health; guilt for being such a failure, a weakling scared to live. Because deep down inside, I believe I don’t deserve to have a life.

“Nonsense," my friends protest. "Everyone deserves to have a life.” 

I feel awkward.

“I too suffer from a chronic illness,” Gee, my darling friend tells me. “I'm blind as a bat, deaf in one ear and that all at the age of thirty-one. I survived by first accepting my illness then stopped worrying about what other people might think of me. I simply chose to ignore their voices and took things one step at a time.”

J.J. -my other dear friend intervenes, “Stop trying to keep up with others. You have your own pace. Acknowledge it and everything will eventually fall into place.”

I begin to weep, letting all the tension out. I feel a friendly hand rest on my shoulder.

“You underwent major surgery a couple of months ago. Your ovary was removed and now you feel like you’re half a woman. You’re scared pretending everything is all right, when it is not. You’re trapped inwardly, crying out –but no one hears you.”

Jo has managed to nail down the truth. I weep harder.

“You have turned into a stone hard, cynical woman," Jo continues. "We don’t recognize you anymore.”

A moment of deep silence falls upon the room. I lift my shawl and start to dry my eyes –not very hygienic, but who cares. I give their words some serious thoughts.

They're right. I have turned into a very cynical not very pleasant person. And that something I definitely don’t want to be. Somehow that all has to end tonight! I am lost in a maze, but have to remain faithful that some day I’ll find myself again. And when I do, everything will fit nicely into place.
We group hug, expressing our love for each other then returned to our seat.

I inhale deeply, spin the bottle and ask;
“Who is next?”

They all stare at me as if I’ve just lost my mind.

“Just kidding,” I smile feeling strangely at ease. As the night comes to an end I suddenly realize how blessed I am to have such wonderful, caring friends.