I was a beggar

I was a beggar.

It’s something that I’m not really proud of, but I was that.

No, I didn’t go to the streets asking everyone I meet for some loose change nor did I knock on every door asking for pity and any amount to spare.

I was at my home, call or texting friends, former officemates, distant relatives, and even new acquaintances, if they can lend me some money so I can take my wife to her dialysis session.

And it was a recurring incident, that I honestly saw myself then as a beggar – for alms, sympathy, and even prayers. I’ve thrown away any inhibition and pride that I have for the sake of my wife.

But while I’ve accepted my fate, I didn’t want to stay with it.

I don’t care about the humiliation, the cold shoulders, the insinuations that I am an opportunist and an abusive friend, and all sorts of words thrown at me, and behind me. I don’t give a damn about what other people think. All I wanted then was for my wife not to miss any session.

And while I beg, I worked. I tried to find ways to help myself.

Sometime I got something, that could tidy us for a few days, but it’s not enough. It doesn’t provide a permanent solution.

What’s funny though, is that every time I stumbled onto something good… every time I get little successes… every time I get a little bit happier… someone would come and try to ‘put me in my proper place’

He would always make me feel that since I was miserable… I should stay miserable.

Now, I am far from the ‘beggar’ that I used to be… too far from being a success, but at least, no longer a beggar.

In my own little way, I managed to stand up, inch by inch… slowly.

Please, let me stand… let me grow… spare me from your negative outlook in life.

I was a beggar… but now, no more.

I don’t want to stay miserable… I REFUSED to stay miserable…

I am struggling, yes… but I am fighting.