She was lying on her carpet, her face streaming with tears, crying out loudly over all the frustrations that she had. All the fights, all the failures, all the self-doubt. Each wail stood for one frustration after another.
After about an hour or so, after her wails had turned into sobs, heaving, and soon nothing, she got up. Her throat dry, her eyes swollen and her nose stuffed. This was nothing new.
She wasn't the kind of woman who let her frustrations out; only a handful knew what she was going through. All the anger, all the frustration, all the sadness. It was all inside. She would be like this until one day it would be too much to handle. Those were the days this happened. A fight at home would trigger her and it wasn't just shallow crying, it was a cry from her soul.
This was her way of breaking down. This was her way of rebuilding. Of starting new. This was her way of making sure that her frustrations didn't follow her. That they stayed there. In the tears that she shed.
She was so nervous. Her hands sweating, and her mind racing over and over again as to what she should say. This was one of the hardest things she had to do. She took the plunge and said it.
Telling someone how you feel is one of the hardest things that people do. I don't think it's about facing the rejection that may come along your way, which it may. I think it's more along the lines of the fact that you've been so vulnerable with someone. To tell them how your heart works. In a sense, that's what you're offering them and you're scared that instead of helping you protect it, or even giving it back to you, they'll destroy it.
This is why communication is so hard. Telling someone how you feel is seen as being vulnerable. But it's not. We live in a world where we are scared of being open with other people because we're scared that they'll use it against us. But telling someone how we feel only makes us stronger. It means that we're not scared. That we're not afraid. That we're confident that we can handle what's coming for us.
Think about it from the other person's point of view. Wouldn't you be happy if someone told you that they loved you? Wouldn't it make life easier if you knew what the other person was thinking, what they were feeling, what they wanted?
She was so scared because of her past, that she didn't want it to affect her future. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to give him a part of her heart. It wasn't whole. Her heart had been broken and stitched up many times. She was scared that it'd be broken and stitched up again. But only when she looked inside of her did she see that her heart was stronger than before. That these stitches were the reason she could offer a part of it to him. What had hurt her in the past, wasn't going to hurt her in the future.
"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you."
And she didn't mind getting hurt by him, because she knew she could handle it.
As long as she could remember, she never felt like she was good enough. She never felt she was worth it. She never felt that she belonged.
It was countless years of disapproval from her parents that she turned out the way she was. Unhappy with all around her and thinking that she wasn't good enough for anyone out there. If she wasn't good enough for her own family, what made her think that she was good enough for anyone else? She started to look in the mirror and hated what she saw. Not only did she attack the way she looked; her skin broke out, her hair was falling and she thought that her thighs were too big, she started attacking her personality as well; she was too stubborn, she was rude and she was disrespectful.
When she left home, she entered a world that she didn't know existed. A world where people thought otherwise. People who thought she was beautiful. Beautiful on the inside. Who, when she pointed our her flaws, said that she was crazy and pointed out their own. It took her a long time to come to terms with this. She thought people were lying to her by saying she looked good. How could anyone think that if she herself didn't? Soon, she just listened and took it in and replied with a polite "thank you".
These were the people that she was the most comfortable with. The people that made her realise that who she was as a person was enough. That yes, people make mistakes, but they aren't put down for it. They were her stepping stones to something better. They started making her feel comfortable in her own skin.
Soon, she started waking up without that stomach turning feeling. Realising that she wasn't ugly or a disappointment. Realising that she was beautiful the way she was.
The stretch marks on her body, the pain in her eyes, the love handles that she hated. They were a part of her. A part of her story. A story that showed all her triumphs and disappointments. And for the first time in a long time, she fell in love.
We, as people tend to live life looking at the past and worrying that it will affect the future. We worry that we are too dependent on someone else and that their happiness is the only way we will be happy.
We worry.
I happen to be one of those people. I was always worried that my past will determine what my future will hold. I was always worried that making other people happy will result in my happiness, but that isn't the case. I can't live life for someone else. I can't live life in the past.
I'm taking small steps to make sure that I am happy with me. That my happiness isn't dependent on someone else. That my past doesn't determine my future. This doesn't mean that if someone is happy, I'm not. It doesn't mean that I won't try to make someone smile. I do that. Or at least I try to do that. All I'm saying is that if someone is upset at you or angry at you, don't let it bring you down. Don't let it dampen your mood.
You control your emotions. You control your reaction. You control your life.
Live in the moment. Live in the now. Don't dwell on the past and don't look towards the future. Don't look for someone else to be happy. Look within. When you're happy with yourself, the universe makes sure that everything falls into place. Not only are you happy, but everyone around you is happy as well.
All saints have a past, all sinners have a future. The only thing holding us back is our Army of Shadows.
The person I am now; someone who always has an opinion, someone who is not afraid to say it out loud, and someone who sometimes has anger issues is because of one person, my dad.
From the time I was born, I have always been a daddy's girl to the point that when I was small and he left town, I would get sick.
Even now, I'm the girl that looked for him in the crowd when I graduated, showed him photos of my trophy and waits for the smile on his face when I think I've done well.
Even though there have been times where we've had our differences, he's always been there to pull me up, tell me that I should move on from the past and not dwell on it and look forward. He's always given me words of encouragement, words of wisdom, and sometimes just words (mainly to do with lame jokes that no one understands).
Coming from Bhubaneswar all the way Hong Kong and living the way we do, I can't thank him enough for the life that he has given me, the opportunities I've had and the people I've met.
Thank you pitashree, I love you more than words!
I hope that one day I can give you what you've given me and make you proud of me as I am of you.
I've been thinking about what to write since it's been a really long time since my last post, and yet nothing came into my head. This last week, my brother came home and it gave me time to reflect.
When my mother was pregnant, I wished for a younger sister or an older sibling. Someone that would pamper me and look after me or someone younger that I could share all my secrets with. Not once did I want a younger brother because I thought he would be the most immature person in the world and really annoying.
Growing up, he had a talent that surpassed quite a few people. He picked up a cricket ball at an early age and has flourished into an amazing cricket player. Along with that, I can say with a lot of confidence, that he has become one of the brightest, mature and handsome men that I've met. I'm not saying this just because he's my brother, I've heard it from other people that he has become a kind, young man, who matured quite quickly.
As a sibling, I didn't have much to offer him. With our age difference being so big, and my parents taking care of his studies and cricket, all I could say to him was to make sure he didn't make the same mistakes I did.
And he hasn't. My brother has excelled in everything he has done. He put in tons of hard work and it's all paid off. My brother is one of the most amazing people I have met. Not once do I wish I had someone else as my sibling because even though he's 16 and probably immature many times, he's the one person I can turn to for anything. Someone who when he comes home will fight for me and fight with me.
We've grown up from biting each other and fighting each other to talking walks, watching movies and fighting over food. And he's the one person who hasn't judged me. At all. No matter what my flaws are or the mistakes I've made, he's the only one who has seen me for the person I am and nothing else. He knows that people make mistakes and he sees me for that. That doesn't mean that he doesn't shout at me when I make a mistake. Of course he does! But that's why I love him.
I'm probably writing this because he left last week and I miss the fact that the house isn't noisy anymore and no one is watching TV or the PS3.
But I know that he's someone who will do anything for me, just like I would do for him.
Since the day we are born until the day we die, there is nothing more comforting than being taken care of by your mother. May it be the age of 5, 20 or even 50, you always want your mother when you are sick, or going through a crisis or even just to gossip with.
I know growing up, I was never an easy child and I constantly fought with her about my opinions and how different they were to hers. How she was old fashioned and life wasn't how it was when she was a kid. And yet, despite all my tantrums, everyday as I left the house, she would say she loved me.
My mother is a simple woman. She's doesn't care what people wear or what they say, as long as they are good at heart. She's the type of person who will cuddle with you when you're not feeling well and feed you even when you're not hungry. She turned from being my mother to being one of my closest friends. A person who is always there for me.
Being a mother is not easy task, as you can see here. But it's one of the most important jobs in the world. And one that other people take for granted.
So here's to you mummy. Thank you for being there for me and believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you for bearing with my tantrums and stubbornness since I was born. Thank you for allowing me to irritate you every single day. And most of all, thank you for loving me unconditionally.
I love you (even though I may not say it enough)
So here is to another 23 years of annoying you and many more.
