She was Talking to Herself.. Crazy or Therapeutic..?

 

 

Her voice came through my headphones. I pulled them out “did you say something, Habryar”

No reply.

She was in the kitchen washing dishes. I hear her talking to herself, belittling herself, scolding herself.  The pitch of her voice was louder than the water faucet.   

I was sitting at the dining table playing with my laptop, more specifically, with words. I could clearly see her from where I was situated. I observed her. She was completely drowned in her own world. In her own problems.

“If you knew some English, wouldn’t you been working now? Wouldn’t you send some money for your Hospitalized son?. "  she murmured  “What can I do now? What did I even get from running to that meat pathetic factory? Why did that shabby scrimby old lady snitch on me?  She was lying. I am not that old, I can still work tirelessly..I was never lazy or late..they never saw me standing around doing nothing” she exhaled deeply “I guess she was jealous and resentful of me funding my son's big wedding...”

“If you knew English, wouldn’t you be able to defend yourself against that sharp tongued, green eyed bit**”   she continued “let me focus on my English classes while I look here and there for some cleaning jobs”

She is a fifty plus old lady with great body for her age. A single mother with some 20 plus sons from a previous marriage. She had a very persistent personality, very ambitious for an illiterate woman. I admired that.

She was relentless about learning English as a second language in spite of her being illiterate in her first language Somali. But she rose and improved quickly, albeit unsteadily, she grasped many words . She started forming sentences with doubt. I encouraged her.

She was selfish. “The end justifies the means” type. sometimes she scared me.  

I wondered if this woman right here had access to education what miracles would she worked?

Stress can make you do crazy things, seem crazy, and sometimes, can be the fuelling engine for you to attain your dreams. Because dreams have no expiration date.

Maybe talking to yourself in the kitchen while faucet water pouring or screaming and crying in the bathroom while taking a shower is therapeutic. But make sure no one listens to your pain. Especially, those who are situated at the dining table waiting for gossips to be served.

Her conversation with herself continued.  I decided to give her some privacy and so I put back my headphones to continue playing with my laptop or with my words.