What is irritating to me during this commercialized love fest is the constant bombarding expectations that society continues to place on me. My first recollection of this bitter sweet season was in elementary school.
Valentine’s Day card exchanges.
We sat at our child-proof desks and glitter-bombed these white paper bags with ring-around-the-rosey designs that featured red hearts and pink arrows. The classroom walls were decorated with grinning naked children with wings and the atmosphere was buzzing with true love.
Lurking in this creative process, a competitive limelight shrouds the room as we placed our bags on display. The boys grouped together in outward laughter over the assignment and every so often the girls slipped passive glares of disapproval. My lightly fractured bag added to this judgmental line up will now wait for it’s destined deposits.
Ziplock bags containing cartoon cards and candy were pulled out from cubby holes and backpacks. I sat at my desk doodling a heart man in my agenda book. The teacher announced for us to deliver our messages and the classroom swarmed in excitement. I heard plops and plastic crunching as the sweet goodies dropped inside the created vessels. After the distribution ceased, we were instructed to pick up our bags and the observer in me saw ones that busted at the sides with chocolate, lollipops and gum. My mouth watered. Even the teacher’s desk was filled to the edge with timely presents from the socially constructed classroom pets.
When I reached for my bag, it contained artificial love notes out of sympathy and obligation. I did not go to school with valentines to give because my mother could not afford to pleasure the masses. I knew it was imperative to rank higher socially through these classroom parties, but I was taught money doesn’t buy you happiness nor does it buy you love.
Today, the theme of my yesteryear still invades my life. Social expectations like what I experienced in grade-school are still alive today because I’m a college graduate living at home without a vehicle. My dependence on others is for my practical needs like food, shelter and water. Most of my true friends are in other countries picking up the broken pieces of their own karma and because my family is in this impoverished rut, I am to carry the cross and lead my life as a black sheep.
I work hard each day connecting with successful entrepreneurs and spiritual catalysts online and express my passions boldly to live up to what I preach. Through my journey of love, I’ve come a long way by taking what is given to me. It’s been a blessing because I see the difference in empathy and sympathy. Not all of the offerings people present are enriched with authenticity of course, and when something is given from pity, I decline straight-away because I am not dumb.