Fit to write-Healthy

Health. It is the proper functioning of several organs towards one end: life. So, healthy is the state. This is my take. My definition sterms from understanding weaved by events dated as back as the 1980 ‘s.

Where a young couple was faced with the dilemma of giving meaning to various terms or states mankind have been entertwined with since time, though remain elusive.

Their decision to live together came at the price of leaving their families behind and forging a new one entirely out of the different habits and cultures of the two. One a water, the other an oiler, talk about culture shock! But they were determined. They would make it work.

Besides, they had made it through the disaproving parental and cohorts warnings. They would surpass the honeymoon stage too and become a family. And they too would imprint a mark never to be errased from the belly of the earth.

There is more to a unit than meets the eye as they were slowly but surely coming to realise. Just that one word family denotes a united front and not just so united vaguely but, for a common purpose.

As a promise, challenges may and will always prevail causing ill,mayhem or disfunction what ever suite we choose to garment it with. So, drawing their own blue print of an ideal family required they coin the very meaning of life through their own eyes moreso as their role plays had changed from children to parents; from dependents to being the very providers …

Was being happyly married to the one you love sufficient to guarantee a healthy lifestyle? Maybe procreation would have the answer, so they tought. Or was a simple dream transforming into a complexity best unraveled with time?

Things seemed to be happening all at onces demanding equal attention and and priority. Thining line between needs and wants finally vanished. Frustration and disappointment settled and stress reigned. There never was a worse state than that unhealthyness.

They could see the way they fought over the little things they sore they never would in the beginning. Was is time to panic, were they being the beacons of disfunction or were they still on track?

Matters were being taken out of their hands as they revelled on their plight stalling the inevitable with the hope that their observation was flowed.

The mouths to feed had not just increased but the bread had also insisted the butterr, cheese and ham be brought aboard. And there was still pending the question of housing and soon enough a family car too.

Health had suddenly shifted to being able to go to work everyday and affording the family sustinance. It seemed the luxury they could afford was just mere survival.

They had survived the social differences but could they escape the rat race their economic stature posed? It seemed they were trapped for, no matter their efforts it seemed to them they were sinking deeper into the pit.

Maybe it was true after all,they couldn’t have it all. They could do the next best thing, forge their aspirations on to their children. But was the decision a child of fear signaling defeat or an act of peserverance denoting adaptation?

Whatever the case, that marked the beginning of my education and I was only 12 months old, literally. I was send to school every day since, cold or hot, sunny or rainy, less the weekends and holidays.

My parents were convinced a proper white coller job was the ticket, a linear education- the bank and a university degree -the money.

The torment was to be mine. It was at school where I was cohesed into doing what other people wanted of me. Where I got rediculed for my weight and size. Tell me that’s healthy.

I might have stood up to one or two but it seemed a war was raged against me by an entire army and I was no warrior. It was clear my survival depended on me being adaptive. But every day felt like I had seconds left before I explode emotionally.

I couldnt seek help. How could I when I did not even know it existed! Saying I hated my early schooling is an understatement, I louthed what should have been a joy ride.

Lo and behold my rescue was near. One fine afternoon while at my father’s work place I stumbled across one or two ragged story books tossed in a gabbage bin. I was hooked. It seemed a fire was kindled that could not be put off.

It seemed I could escape my ordeal.stories of people and places became mine. I discovered the freedom and wealth of being immensed in words.

The physical boundaries became like the passing wind and ceased to confine me to my predicaments. My new fond weapons became the words and my eyes. I wrote my heart out and read my sorrows away.

My eyes became the treasure I sore to guard at all costs. I decreed to pamper them with monthly visits to the optometrists and opticians but, it seemed my parents predicament was larking close by.

Telling need from want, yet again a blare. A well deserved visit to the spar for a professional massues traded for massages at home or polirised uv protection sunglasses, for the cheaper ones by the alley downtown.

Can I really live a day enstranged from my new found freedom? Unable to feast on the beauty layed out day in and day out as the sun sets and becons the beging of a new day the next sun rise?

Don’t get me wrong, I too was loved and adored. Tought about good hygiene -washing hands before and after every occasion that demanded we do. Also about cleaning up around as well as within me.

I was tought about loving and being loved. About respect from both ends of the spectrum – accorded and awarded. About the purity of heats and their dirt.

Consciously or otherwise, they set in motion the fates of my health. Now I must take control. I Choose to exercise to keep my physic in check ensuring I live long enough.

Long enough to realise all my dreams in my lifetime and set my children soring high in the sky as eagles of their own fates.

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About ferwam

I am a passionate aspiring writer who is taking baby steps to realise her dream. Though like a baby, its given I will stumble and fall, I wish to stand up and continue with my journey and encourage you all to take part in this dream.
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