Was looking for some inspiration to write anything other than book reviews. Found this interesting writing challenge on Daily Post and gave it a try...
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Water exists in many forms - ice, water and steam. It changes its form based on its surroundings and factors that influence its core. What suits me best, would be water, in that, most of the time, I flow along, whatever the setting may be.
As a kid with working parents and in a joint family, it was necessary for me to be able to hold my tears, anger, frustration. Many a time, despite the feeling of anger or grief, it was imperative to be happy and play along. What used to work for me then, was to draw on a piece of paper, until I could get a handle on myself before being presentable to folks in the house or to run laps in a playground until I could no longer hold breath in my lungs, when I would just settle down and breathe; and with every breath, I would feel lighter. Part of the reason, to hold on to my emotions was pride, so as to not look vulnerable to my family and other part of it was that, I was taught to believe that I am in control of my life and all the answers are within me, if I have the persistence to look within. For me, that control included being in control of my emotions too and to find the balance inside me. And negative emotions wear people down, family included. Was I drawing on a paper or running laps in the ground when I was happy, sure, but I did not mind sharing my happiness, as much as I minded sharing my sadness.
Then I grew up. I realized its OK to show your honest emotions, especially to the ones who can understand. Family aside, trusting to find the one who was OK with my emotions was an altogether different ball game, but when I did, I was OK to bring down the walls of pride, though, surely, not all down. Everyone needs a defensive wall to climb behind, when going gets tough. It was always behind the confined walls of my mind and heart, that the fiercest battles were fought, with myself and with the world around me. This left me sometimes feeling like an ocean, kissing its merry little sea shore with waves of mirth, while holding a volcano that is erupting its hideous vapor into its belly.
Then I grew up a little more. I played the charade a bit more elaborately. I started being what YOU perceived me to me. I realized, being different me, made me feel like a trickle on hot sand, fighting for a chance to survive, yet evaporating. It was exhausting, to fit a mould, to appease everyone. In self-righteousness, I turned inward. I did not care much for anything other than self. I was arrogant enough to feel that I had the right to express myself without a care for the audience. I was free flowing, sometimes a ripple, sometimes a tsunami. Sometimes, that burned my skin, sometimes, that soothed the pain and sometimes, it just came back to haunt me. It took me time, to eventually evolve to the maturity that I cannot be whole, perceiving myself as a mirage of someone else or by being selfish. It took time, to understand that I need to force my way through life, to leave a mark, but I can only do it, if I am me, flowing like the perennial river, jutting through the rocks, collecting pebbles (perceive them to be experiences, confidantes), creating a path for myself to follow.
See, it was then that I realized, the kid in me dealt better with life. She already knew that she was responsible for her well-being, emotional or otherwise. She had a better handle of life than the grown-up me. So I went back to what I was taught and what worked for me before, to finding answers in me than the world around me. I adapted, just like water, to the surroundings, learning to survive, to pave my way through the paths of life, flowing through to the sunset of life...
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Water exists in many forms - ice, water and steam. It changes its form based on its surroundings and factors that influence its core. What suits me best, would be water, in that, most of the time, I flow along, whatever the setting may be.
As a kid with working parents and in a joint family, it was necessary for me to be able to hold my tears, anger, frustration. Many a time, despite the feeling of anger or grief, it was imperative to be happy and play along. What used to work for me then, was to draw on a piece of paper, until I could get a handle on myself before being presentable to folks in the house or to run laps in a playground until I could no longer hold breath in my lungs, when I would just settle down and breathe; and with every breath, I would feel lighter. Part of the reason, to hold on to my emotions was pride, so as to not look vulnerable to my family and other part of it was that, I was taught to believe that I am in control of my life and all the answers are within me, if I have the persistence to look within. For me, that control included being in control of my emotions too and to find the balance inside me. And negative emotions wear people down, family included. Was I drawing on a paper or running laps in the ground when I was happy, sure, but I did not mind sharing my happiness, as much as I minded sharing my sadness.
Then I grew up. I realized its OK to show your honest emotions, especially to the ones who can understand. Family aside, trusting to find the one who was OK with my emotions was an altogether different ball game, but when I did, I was OK to bring down the walls of pride, though, surely, not all down. Everyone needs a defensive wall to climb behind, when going gets tough. It was always behind the confined walls of my mind and heart, that the fiercest battles were fought, with myself and with the world around me. This left me sometimes feeling like an ocean, kissing its merry little sea shore with waves of mirth, while holding a volcano that is erupting its hideous vapor into its belly.
Then I grew up a little more. I played the charade a bit more elaborately. I started being what YOU perceived me to me. I realized, being different me, made me feel like a trickle on hot sand, fighting for a chance to survive, yet evaporating. It was exhausting, to fit a mould, to appease everyone. In self-righteousness, I turned inward. I did not care much for anything other than self. I was arrogant enough to feel that I had the right to express myself without a care for the audience. I was free flowing, sometimes a ripple, sometimes a tsunami. Sometimes, that burned my skin, sometimes, that soothed the pain and sometimes, it just came back to haunt me. It took me time, to eventually evolve to the maturity that I cannot be whole, perceiving myself as a mirage of someone else or by being selfish. It took time, to understand that I need to force my way through life, to leave a mark, but I can only do it, if I am me, flowing like the perennial river, jutting through the rocks, collecting pebbles (perceive them to be experiences, confidantes), creating a path for myself to follow.
See, it was then that I realized, the kid in me dealt better with life. She already knew that she was responsible for her well-being, emotional or otherwise. She had a better handle of life than the grown-up me. So I went back to what I was taught and what worked for me before, to finding answers in me than the world around me. I adapted, just like water, to the surroundings, learning to survive, to pave my way through the paths of life, flowing through to the sunset of life...
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