Thursday, March 30, 2017

Security and insecurity.

Every couple of days, I have to remind myself that I am a married woman.

Such heavy words, those. No matter that it has made zero impact to my psyche. :) Maybe it also helps that I possibly have the best husband in the world. (He doesn't read this blog, so no, I am not needlessly buttering).

But this post is not about the good things in life.

This post is about how debilitating your sense of validation and self is, no matter what mental space you are in. It's about how you can have a raging social life (my health will vouch for this), an amazeballs family and generally be considered that wretched hashtag #blessed — but your mind is stubborn and will always rake up insecurities on an unassuming Thursday.

I almost feel bad for how my mind works. There are days when I have to shut down my thoughts.

No good is going to come with this train of thought, i'll tell myself. Stop the pity party, S, i'll say further.

But then something as random as a coworker getting praised, or a late invitation to a party, will get my wall up. Do people not like me?, I will obsess. Am I not doing well enough?

Questions without answers should be banned. Or one should hold the ability to delete the presence of any question in your head if there isn't a conclusive answer in line.

The other day I was watching Girls (slowly becoming my favourite TV show of all time), and in it, a gay character called Elijah (an aspiring actor) was debating whether he should go for a Broadway audition or not. He claimed that he would never have the courage to put himself out there, with the risk that people may laugh at him or his lack of talent.

This is such a genuine concern for me. There has never been a point in my life where i've decided to just "fuck it" and go for it, in the professional space. It's mostly to do with YOLO moments on drunken friday nights.

This is possibly why I had the hardest time telling my boss that I need more money in life. When I finally got the time, I could make no eye contact. I just shot off my mouth like I was asking for a safety pin.

Such a fundamental question to ask, but, when is a good time to not give a fuck and just do whatever the fuck you want in life?

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Humanity is a disease

I have 3 tabs open on my browser.

One is a video; a beautiful fruit of an old friend's labour. But also a reminder of one of my biggest heartbreaks from 2015.

The second one is a friend's self-congratulatory facebook status, where he gloats about finally getting published (after trying to get his manuscript read by publishers for years).

The third, is a chat I'm having with my best friend. We're discussing whether we can truly be happy for someone else's success.

It's easier when you're close to them.

I find it difficult even then. 

I think the last time I was truly happy is when you got engaged.

What's a world without validation, right? But it really got me thinking.

How do you stop yourself from making comparisons when you see someone else going ahead in life? It's such a natural instinct to justify your complacency in the wake of someone else's success. No matter how many times you tell yourself "but they worked so hard, they deserve all the happiness and success" — (they really do) — it's very difficult to detach your life/work graph from it.

There are just so many overlapping narratives, jumping above one another, forming angles and tangents; what do you latch onto?

Maybe it's time for that social media break after all. But then is running away the solution?


Sunday, August 28, 2016

"... and we tried so hard"

I think what got to me the most is the fact that I never got a voice. That you will never know that I felt as betrayed by you, as you did by me. Maybe in another universe I could live with that fact, and live with it comfortably.

But in this universe I could not.

I had to protect myself from the monster you were making me out to be. I was almost starting to believe the perception you had of me. I was starting to feel like a criminal. And I know that I fought so, so hard to let you go off it. But you didn't. You sat there, wallowing in your expectations of me, and refused to keep into consideration a lifetime of happy, loyal, supportive memories.

Would that not make anyone feel betrayed? That the most random people remember the smallest things I did for them, and were nice enough to call, text and keep in touch? And those people who I thought get me, would turn around and behave like a complete strangers?

The whys don't even matter anymore. All I have going for me is the ability to draw parallels, and claim with all my heart that if matters were to have turned around, I would deal with it much differently. I would accept apologies, I would let things go sooner, I would focus on the macro rather than the micro, I would put different things at a priority than you did. But does it even matter anymore?

Why am I still fixated with this? Turns out, I'm tired of bottling these feelings, like they're something clandestine; something I shouldn't feel. It's been a while. Life has moved on, and we've all become adults, but the same demons haunt me even now. Turns out, heartbreak doesn't just evaporate.

And you, my darling, broke my heart into tiny little pieces.

You know why? Because you'll never acknowledge it. And I can't live with that. I can live with a void, some guilt, lots of tears, and sporadic loneliness but I cannot live with that image you had of me. I am more than that, and I thought you knew.

I'm tired of walking on eggshells. I'm tired of trying to gauge the situation from your point of view to breakdown what went wrong and how I contributed to it. I'm tired of taking the blame. I don't deserve this. But so much of being an adult is about realising that one has to learn to live with things one doesn't deserve. Maybe life has something better to offer?

I will get there soon; to the place of numbness and nonchalance; to the place of not giving a damn, and not feeling like I'm completely alone (i'm not) because it's so unfair to the wonderful people in my life who do matter, who have stuck around for years, who have been there unconditionally, who have taught me the true meaning of friendship.

I will get to a point of acceptance someday; to a point of gratitude that this has made me closer to the people who matter. I will get to a point of understanding; that this is brought me closer to myself. That my relationship with my soul is far more spiritual, far more meaningful now, than ever.

But today, I am mourning. Today I am down. Today I feel betrayed, upset and sad. And I'm not going to hide from saying it out loud, with the hope that maybe this will make me feel better. 

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Why?

Am I ever going to be happy with myself?

I know they say that the key to truly living a productive life is to never be happy or satisfied and to miss the complacency boat altogether. But I'm starting to wonder if the same can be applied to self esteem.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy. Probably the happiest I've ever been. The more content I get with work and personal life, the worse standards I hold to myself.

FAT FAT FAT
LOOK AT ALL THAT FLAB
Whatever happened to my skin?
Why can't I just be 3 inches taller?
Why is my hair so thin? Am I balding?
Why can't I also not give a shit?

I write very often on body positivity and celebrating your individuality for work, but I'm yet to get there by myself.

Can I truly disassociate losing weight with being fit? Can I truly be happy with how I look? Are these problems even worth my time?


My wedding is in 6 months. Everyday I tell myself I will eat right and work out. I manage to do mostly only one of the two, owing to my busy job, and predictably, I feel terrible at night before I sleep.

Is it always going to be this hard to practice what one preaches?

(Typing this as I make fitness plans for the next week. I'm incorrigible)