I woke up this morning to find that my six-year old brother had literally butchered his, if I might say so, naturally-well-groomed eyebrows. Normally I would be ‘in-stitches’. I would have had to join my sisters in cracking jokes at my brother’s expense. However, I did not. Instead I found myself asking him ‘Why did you do it?’ Maybe I was looking for some profound revelation that would make sense of my troubled existence; suddenly the scales would be lifted for me to see – a new version of me. It did not happen.
Disappointed somewhat, I started to think about why, as human beings, do we do the things we do?
If I am to be honest, I have spent almost my entire life pleasing not myself but other people. Everything about me is tailored to make sure that I ‘look good’ in the eyes of others: my teachers, my mother, my friends and now my co-workers! Ironically I have always prided myself on doing things ‘Anika’s way’. What a joke! In high school I did everything in my power to differentiate myself from the other girls in my grade. I was the timid girl with the unruly bangs, habitually trying to conceal my most obvious insecurity, my ‘big farrid’. While the other girls would congregate in the smelly bathrooms to ‘titivate’ I would proudly sport my dirty shoes, greasy face and untidy uniform as a sign of my rebellion against primping! At the time I thought I was living to please me. And unlike the other girls, I was unwilling to exert the energy and time to attract or ‘look a man’.
I thought I was above living the life that other people wanted me to live. However in trying to differentiate myself I was defining myself based on the standards of other persons. I became another schoolgirl stereotype: the nerd girl who is often the centre of most teenage movie. Having fallen short of the characteristics that would label me a ‘hottie, hottie’, my resentment blinded me as to what I had really become: yet another nerd in a sea of nerds.
In searching for my self the thought of God never really made an impact in dictating why I did what I did. For the most part, God to me was just another social construct that existed to control my life. (I, of course, was not to be controlled.) Therefore, if there was one thing I defiantly decided to not acknowledge, it was that there was a God; at least not for me.
On reflection this defiance was rather ironic. In trying to deny God as controller of my life I had simply replaced him with lesser and more corruptible beings that are themselves controlled by God. You might argue and you could be right, that God himself is indeed a social creation, but in the scheme of things he is created as the Supreme authority. This simply means he controls all those other minions that we assiduously aspire to please and follow: your mother, father, best friend, co-worker and just about anyone whose presence or implied presence has ever forced you to make a decision that could have been yours but never was.
I have found myself at a crossword. Desperately needing direction that no one can adequately give. I have asked…God. I am still waiting. I wait, not to be taken control of but to be given control…of me.