The jukebox is playing in my head again. It’s been playing Burton Cumming’s Stand Tall all day. I wonder if it’s a message for me. Hmmm.

I‘m trying. I have been standing tall all my life and alone.  Well, since I could stand on my own. So when would that be – a year old? It’s a long time anyways. There’s this story that all the old aunties used to tell me when I was growing up in China. The story was that my father had thrown me out onto the steps in a fit of temper when I was 2 years. That was shortly before he left for Canada. It was 6 years before my mother and I were reunited with him in Hong Kong.

Sometimes I wonder if I felt any sense of abandonment hearing this story. Did it have a big impact my life or the development of my character? The old aunties and my own paternal grandmother had remarked on my ‘bad’ temperament over the years. They said no man would have me because of that and the scar on my arm. I certainly have felt and suffered my guilt for lack of ‘good qualities’ most of my life. I attributed that to being female. Now I wonder about those stories.

I am tired of all those feelings wherever they came from. I’m grown up now. I provide for myself. I’ve held down a responsible job for many years. I pay taxes and my own bills. I demand nothing from anyone. I’ve taken full responsibility for my life. That’s all I’m responsible for. There’s no need for me to keep those feelings. I can stand tall and let them all fall.

One day post Canada Day is a good time to declare my own independence, my autonomy from those stories told by old aunties and my self inflicted suffering. It’s time to tell myself new stories.