I learnt to run at the first sign of trouble. My initial natural instinct of flight is more dominant than the fight response. My parents didn’t teach me well either. Their initial reaction was to fight, with fists and words and anything in between. They thought me to shove things under the rug until it formed a big mound one day, and someone tripped; breaking everything in their path. I got comfortable with having rugs around the house. They were safe to fall on and they were warm during cold dark nights. Eventually, we became close. They would always be there, they were always excited to hide things. Sometimes, they would walk over to me and beg me to hide just one more thing with them. Obviously, I trusted them, so I did. Life became so much easier with so many rugs.
Over the years, I’ve learnt that Fight or Flight are no longer the only options available, that they should not be the first thing you think of. I’ve learnt that shoving things under the rug only works when there’s no one around to help you roll the rug away. Rugs, I’ve come to learn are messy and take up so much space; especially piled under a mountain of secrets, lies and loves. Do away with the rugs. Admire the tiles, or the hardwood floor. Admire the fact that you’ve learnt, all by yourself, that rugs don’t always cover everything up. That sometimes, rugs are the bad guys.