THE MAN IN ME

   Thelma Bowlen

   The Philippine Star

   June 16, 2002

    Once upon a time many, many years ago -- too long ago for me to remember -- I dreamt of being a bride.  I would be beautiful in a long white gown with a train of lace following me and a misty veil covering my face, content and peace-filled as I stood next to the man who took my breath away.

    I think every woman at least once in her life has had this vision.  Perhaps it's a fleeting picture or maybe a lifelong dream -- to spend the rest of one's life with the one you cannot live without.  It happened to me when I was nineteen.  But instead of a white a white gown, I wore a pale beige knee-high length dress bought from a department store.  My twenty-year old groom wore the only suit he owned -- a blue one.  There was nothing white, lacey or misty about my wedding except for the tears in my mother's eyes and the handkerchief she used to dry them.  Inside my teenage womb a tiny life swam to complete the ceremony. 

    Eighteen months later the man I promised to spend the rest of my life with decided to he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with me.  He left a few days after our daughter's birthday, taking what little possessions he had from the room we shared in my mother's house.  I stood amidst the debris of his scent and presence.  Strands of his little hair left on a pillow, some dirty clothes forgotten in our hamper and his child innocently asking where her father went.  I walked around in daze for the next week or so.

    Angry.  Hurt.  Accepting.  Lost.  Fearful.  Mostly sad.  What was so terribly wrong with me?  Had all the extra weight I had gained turned me into a hideous, unlovable monster?  Why didn't I see it coming?  How could he do this to me?  To his daughter?  The questions came in an onslaught at night when my guard was down as I stared into my child's eyes.  We now had labels beyond simply being mother and child.  I was now a "single parent."  She was a "fatherless child."  We were a "broken family."  He was a "free man."

    I never got any answers to the questions that kept me up at night.  Sometime after he left I chose to stop asking.  I decided it was no longer worth the effort to find answers that didn't matter to me anymore.  Maybe it was the gym.  Or going back to school.  Or making new friends.  Or my daughter's tiny hands on my cheeks.  Or drawing strength from my widowed mother.  Or the freedom of being a mom without having to be a wife.  Or God finding me in the middle of my hurt.  Somewhere between the sad days I found myself discovering who I was. 

    Strong.  Confident.  Capable.  Forgiving.  I barely recognised myself at times.  I threw myself into career.  College dropout, jill of all trades, mistress of none, worked hard at everything she could get her hands on.  Secretary, girl friday, publicist, talent manager, production assistant, stage actress, newscaster, network marketer, radio morning show host.  I evolved.  I adapted.  I became.  I had no choice.  I was all my daughter had.

    In between building a varied resumé I had to build our life.  The woman with a career was the woman raising a child be herself.  I had to find money for all things essential and the occasional indulgent meal at a fancy restaurant.  I hammered nails.  Drilled holes.  Installed doorknobs.  Hung venetian blinds.  Carried my groceries.  I fought demons of loneliness and depression and battled with thoughts of worthlessness.  I cried myself to sleep worried where to find money.  I grew up and learned that the non-negotiables are food, clothing and shelter and not the latest cellular phone model or the newest Toy Kingdom doll.  I swallowed my pride as the word debt was hung around my neck.  I spent my twenties making a better future for us while other twenties looked for their future better halves. 

    Somewhere along the way I learned to accept my lot and fully embrace who I was.  A woman who married too soon for the wrong reason.  A woman simply not prepared to be a wife and mother.  My age wasn't to blame.  It was a matter to knowing what I wanted.  At nineteen I don't think I had the slightest idea.  But we're never really prepared for many things in life.  We take them as they come and deal with them the best way we can.  whereas I once thought I'd be the other half in a marriage, I found myself being both parts husband and wife, equal parts father and mother. 

    Fate's sense of humor has given me married couples for best friends -- the Turners, the Ralutins, the Mayugas and the Titulars.  they have been my source of true friendship and an occasional loan when finances permit.  I have vacillated between envying them for the privilege of having each other to share burdens to appreciating my life for the freedom I enjoy.

    Over the last ten years my daughter  grew from a fearful and timid two-year old into an extroverted opinionated pre-teen.  She too evolved.  And adapted.  She became.  Now we trade places once in a while.  I sometimes let her see the fearful woman who appears without warning when money is scarce and she allows that woman sob softly in her thin embrace.  She lets me be weak on occasion so I can let her be strong.  she is on the verge of becoming a beautiful young lady who is growing up without a father but with a mom/dad.  Given a choice I would let her have both simply because that is what every child deserves.

    I lie in bed at night and sometimes let my mind wander back to a place and time when I dream of being a bride.  Here I am light years away from how I imagined my life would be.  Accepting the path that life has laid out.  On it a fierce love for my daughter in a relationship that transcends flesh and blood.  A black mini-dachschund named Clarissa.  Treasured friends with nicknames like Scud and Zach.  Aloving God.  My choices already made.  I wouldn't have it any other way. 

    One day in the not too distant future, my daughter will be faced with her own choices.  Whether it be to wear the long white gown with the train of lace and the misty veil or the beigeknee-length dress from a department store, I can only pray she choose the better -- whichever it may be.  I will love her either way.  And so the man who will take my breath away hasn't made an appearance yet.  If he will at all.  If he does, he'll have to fit right in between the career and the life and the mother and child family that we are.  I might even wear the long white gown with the train of lace and misty veil befor my daughter does.  Otherwise I will continue to hammer nails, drill holes, install doorknobs, hang blinds, carry groceries.  Fight loneliness and depression and cry myself to sleep whenever the need arises.  Until then, my daughter and I will continue to evolve, adapt and become.  Regardless.