I actually can't believe that I'm really doing this again. I had convinced myself that I'm quite okay with never being able to write ever again for the rest of my life. It was hard but it comes with acceptance and this was me accepting that I just could not do it anymore, no matter how hard I tried. I had let myself go and was quite fine with it. All the time I would tell myself that it is an okay thing to accept defeat, and I would comfort myself by telling myself that I was never good anyway, I wasn't getting money from it, I did it because I liked it back then and that is no longer the case. I had all these excuses which made it easier for me to just call it quits and I really thought I was ok but no I was not.
I missed this, the squeals of the pen whenever it hits paper, the tud of my thumbs on the keyboard, I missed watching these letters get mixed up to form a comprehensive sentence, a paragraph, story, poem. I missed the magic that writing does to my soul, calming, soothing, comforting, controlling, you name it. I missed offloading my nagging thoughts, asking questions, educating, discovering, communicating. All I'm sure of now is the fact that if I ever think I cannot write ever again for the rest of my life, I would most probably kill myself with a pen and ask to be wrapped in paper before you bury me, just kidding.
See the thing with writing is simple for me. I write to control myself. And in the past weeks I had no control at all and ended up contemplating doing the worst things ever. So after a hell of a month, scary weeks, dark days, I feel like myself again. Normally I would not be sharing this with anyone but I feel that maybe somehow in its weird ways this could help someone a bit.
The past months have been really draining for me. It all started as just an emotional roller coaster. I have always prided myself in being able to control my emotions, an advocate of do not let your problems ruin you, you're strong, you can handle anything. But now I was absolutely not in control and the fact that I had school, exams and projects I was working on did not help me at all. I had a lot of stuff that had to be done, deadlines and worst of all I was working in an environment where I had to constantly think of other people's likes, work according to the dictates of a client and that is the hardest thing ever, some clients are rude for no reason at all, some will mock you, call you names and I had to take it all with grace. For a person who is not really patient I was triggered the whole time, could not take it but had to because I needed the money, I had to take it all in like the broke lady I was.
The craziest thing is I always always said I'm strong enough to handle all things that came my way. And people always say it, I'm strong have always been strong from ever since life learnt to land it's fists on tiny me. But then this time it felt different. The kind of struggle where you do not even want to get in the battlefield and fight even if it means saving your life.
So you wake up everyday, tired and hope you make it through the day without strangling yourself. You smile, you laugh, you say everything is alright because somehow denying it and pretending the problems you're facing are non-existent and are simply a make up of your creative imagination. And you survive the day, the fortnight, the month. You think you have a grip on it, super girl, nothing is gonna bury the seed that you are. Then silly little thing like your mother telling you in a fit of rage that she wished she strangled you at birth. You know she does not mean it, like she loves you right, but then the nightmares begin and you lose it all.
But still you face the day with a glow that seems to avenge the gowry nights. Nothing moves you any more. Not even strangers who possibly can not know who you are. Not even books you used to love so much, I mean you can't finish an action packed Jack Reacher novel and James Patterson can not race your mind down the alleys of Los Angeles. You once said you're a comfort eater but here you are not even able to think of food, even if it's your mother's tempting cooking, you know she's gonna say you're pregnant so you gulp it down anyway and pray your tummy does not burst. You hate yourself so much that you do not care at all like you don't feel yourself anymore but hey you can't spend the day in blankets because you got lectures, demanding ones too. So you push yourself out of bed and pretend you're playing dress up so just you look at least presentable enough to sit in class and face people you really have no energy to face. But you carry it all with grace like the lady they taught you to be. You feel that you are good at fooling the world, let them think you are in control while you are amidst a tumbling block. So you reward yourself with a nap, when your friends ask you to hang out with them you say you are busy, well physically you ain't busy but your mind is.
Then it gets worse. You have to make hard decisions. Choose between evil options that you ordinarily would not go for. But then the tears come and you now feel defeated because you made a vow to yourself that you ain't gonna cry over anything yet here you are six months down the line crying your eyeballs out over whatever it is that you can not pinpoint.
You think of getting married as a way out so it's mission find a husband, a rich one. You know you are not doing it out of love but heyy this is it, someone has to take you to school. But interviewing the potential candidates is even draining because they are either misogynist, they are way too conservative, they want to tame you, they want a wife who cooks everyday. And well those are sacrifices you can not make even for a billion dollars, but wait didn't you say you're desperate, it's crazy but you have to go with the flow. Somehow for all your quest for independence, you're choosing dependence praying it really is the twisted labyrinth to your future independence.
Then you reach a breaking point. One where it's way past midnight. You observe the moon and see that its such a beauty, if only you possessed that glow. You think of all the things gone wrong, possible deferring from your studies looming by, possible marriage by December, a baby most probably next year. You think of the siblings who need a sister that you are really not at the moment. And it breaks, you're everything you despise. A failure, a quitter, loser,a dependant, wife to be, mom to be and it's all because you somehow contributed to it. Now look at you, unable to fix anything all you gotta do is drown in the mess you dug. Ironically, your pajama top is written sparkle in sparkling glitters, yet you don't feel that at all.
So you cry silently with your shaking fragile fist shoved into your mouth to silence the sobs. Your other shaking hand is busy typing, a note or whatever that is. You have embraced it, death by your own hand, literally waking up the sleeping Grim Reaper, begging him to make steaky dinner out of your curves, get drunk in your blood, get high on your last breaths. You think this is it a way out, the only one to wherever the place of rest is. It won't be so bad, at least you do not have to witness anyone get hurt and you have to do this, sacrifice yourself.
But then that too, you can't do it. You cry even harder when you realise you failed at this attempt too but it's not the ordinary salty, peppered chilli tears. This feels good because you feel that you stopped something tragic from happening, you are a hero because you saved your life. So the tears cascade down, beneath it a watermark of a victor's smile. You know you are finally home, where you have vented everything out of your system and you are now ready to have another go on this whole life and living thing, which you remind yourself to never take for granted. While your problems are still not solved, you know tomorrow is gonna be a better day because you decided to make it so. So as the sun rises, so does your soul waking up all it's other cousins with it, stamina, courage, strength, endurance, patience, you name it. While it's all not rosy, you know you are gonna work to make it shine without ever sacrificing yourself or your dreams. You did not let yourself go.
So do not let yourself go nomatter what blows life lands on you. Because you would have chosen what you thought was a temporary solution to your battles yet it echoed six feet beneath the ground and it's effect was indeed permanent.
Do not let yourself go because no matter how vulnerable you may be, you will eventually emerge as a victor but only if you allow it.
Do not let yourself go because there is nothing as precious as your life no matter how many holes it got, there is no problem worth sacrificing a drop of your blood, let alone your life.
Do not let yourself go because you can not afford to extinguish the very breath that makes you, the master piece you are deserves to be preserved, the art you are needs not be erased.
Do not let yourself go because you're worth a breath, you are worth of existence, you deserve to live.
Do not let yourself, ever!
