Confessions of a confused soul # 7: Fear Files

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 thing. 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



Comments

  1. The last 3 sentences reflect maturity I your writing.

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  2. Some people suffer too much at a young age, but only a few people like you have the courage to come out of all the pain and adversities as a victor.
    You inspire me always, Namrata. In your life stories, I can find traces of my own stories. Love you lots!

    Your fan, forever,
    Purba

    ReplyDelete
  3. @ Kalpana - Thank you so much! I don't know if I can call myself mature yet but yes someone who loves life - definitely yes :)

    @Purba - Touched and overwhelmed :) It means a lot to hear those words from you. Hugs <3

    ReplyDelete

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