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Growing up, I was frequently labelled "argumentative". Sometimes, it was because I was asking querulously for the umpteenth time "But why though?" Other times, I would be yelling petulantly, "But that's not fair!" at some perceived injustice.โฃ
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It was hard for my parents. In particular, my Mom bore the brunt of my exasperation. We fought nearly every day while my Dad who was away most of the time, was secretly amused by my temperament. They didn't know what to do with such an aggrieved child and frankly neither did I.โฃ
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So it came as no surprise that it would also be my Mom who was the first to suggest law school. Granted, it wasn't spoken in a gently encouraging demeanour but rather with more of an angry snap, "You should be a lawyer!โฃ
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Fast forward 30 odd years and I had been practising law for over a decade. The work was fast-paced, challenging and often exciting. I loved it. But the longer I did it and the more comfortable I felt, the more aware I became that something was amiss.โฃ
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You see, what my Mom and the world misconstrued as argumentative was in fact a boundless sense of curiosity. Instead of being shown how to find my why's every time I was confronted by "But why though", I was taught how to silence it.โฃ
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I wonder how many of us were similarly misdiagnosed and misunderstood as children? The contemplative child wrongly labelled as shy. The passionate child wrongly labelled as angry. The creative child wrongly labelled as messy.โฃ
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What if we could rewrite the narrative that was written for us? What would your pen tell you about the person buried under all those labels?โฃ
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"๐๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ข ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ช๐ถ๐ด. ๐๐ถ๐ต ๐ช๐ง ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ซ๐ถ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ง๐ช๐ด๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ข๐ฃ๐ช๐ญ๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ค๐ญ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฃ ๐ข ๐ต๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ, ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ช๐ฆ๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ช๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ด๐ต๐ถ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฅ".โฃ ~ย ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ซ๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ง๐ฌ๐ญ๐๐ข๐ง]
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