Confessions of a confused soul # 7: Fear Files

By
Source: inspirenow.com.au
Not very long ago I had visited one of my colleague's house and met her parents. She told me later that the first thing her father noticed about me was my hesitant nature. His words made me think. Was that how people perceived me? For I always believed I came across as someone who was very confident and knew what she was doing.

That incident triggered a journey down the memory lane. An interview where the interviewer read me like an open book scaring the hell out of me. I still remember his words. "You are too matured for your age. I don't know what has triggered that but there is a reason for it I am sure. You don't have friends of your age, they are either younger or elder. You are very sensitive and emotional which do look like cons but can also act like pros if handled in the right manner. It makes you connect with people instantaneously. You are brave to take your own decisions and face the consequences if you fail. You don't believe in the blame game, rather you concentrate on solutions. It makes you a great team player. Would you like to join my team?" I didn't know whether it was a compliment or a complaint and I refused the job offer despite it being something I really wanted to do at that moment. 


Those social gatherings where I was criticized for having spoken too much or laughed too loud. Result, I stopped speaking and laughing. Many summer afternoons spent in dissecting my behavior to an extent that I had started believing I was a tyrant, nobody would want to do anything with.  Today when I look back I see flawed people all around, including the ones who once had pointed at me for being flawed. Maybe the didn't want me to flawed, maybe it was for my betterment. But somewhere the real meaning got lost. Rather they ensured I remained flawed for the rest of my life just like them. I had began to carry a fear of being judged for almost everything I did from standing to sitting to eating to smiling to talking to dressing to perhaps even breathing! I had forgotten to be normal. I was crippled.

To give you a brief background about me - I am abnormal in more than one ways. I am 5'7" which is way beyond the average height of a lady in my entire family. I am wheatish with so many injury marks owing to my passion for sports. I am born a Moolam, a star that screams disaster. I am plump with no delicate structure, thanks to my genes. I pursued a career of my own free will and didn't become a government servant like my whole extended family. I have an independent mind of my own thanks to all the reading I have done since I was four. I know you would argue I cannot be blamed for these things but the fact is I was for long enough to leave some irremovable scars on my psyche. I reached a stage where my entire system collapsed, mentally, physically, emotionally... in every possible manner and what left was nothing.

Today it has been three months I have broken away from that guilt ridden existence. It feels strange not to have any of that negativity around me in form of people or incidents. I am trying to build a positive atmosphere around me, to ensure that my senses are rejuvenated completely never to break down again. Those nightmares still haunt me, but I know they will not stay for long. For I am not feeding them, rather I am starving them enough to let them die. Die they will soon and in their death I will live.

~ To be continued



Popular posts from this blog

Diary of a Lost Wanderer - Lost & Found

By
Image
Dear Diary, I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then.  If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place. The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 
Keep reading »

Essay: How to mourn the loss of love?

By
Image
Image Source: Unsplash.com I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven.  For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life.  I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. 
Keep reading »

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »