The thing about old toys and humans is that you have to let them go when the time comes. Not because they have worn out, not because you stop loving them, but because you have to grow up.
I like being a child. I can be a child forever. It’s like being a child gives you this advantage of commiting a mistake under the name of experience. You are learning and so you will commit a mistake and that is all right until you feel guilty and improvise. But being an adult is like aiming for perfection. You cannot afford to commit a mistake. Being adult is like being on a full time probation. You are always being watched over. Your karma is all set to ruin you once you do something wrong. I know that karma works otherwise as well, even when we are young. But the damage done in adulthood feels irrepairable. It’s like you feel too much pain and there is no remedy that can heal you. There is this part of being mature, we tend to understand things better. We understand our feelings better, the bad ones too.
When you are a kid, crying is a way of getting things done. You cry and you get what you want because no one wants to see you getting hurt. No one wants you to suffer. They want you believe that you will get whatever you yearn for, that nothing is impossible to get. They lie. They teach us to live in denial. And right after reality hit us, we realise that we don’t get everything we want. We cannot have what we cry for. Infact that is why we cry for the most because we realise we don’t have the kind of control over life that we once anticipated.
This transition from childhood to adulthood is like going through a black hole. Your old self disappears without a trace and you keep searching for it endlessly. It’s an entire different universe. You cannot survive in it unless you unlearn. Unlearn things that contradicts with this universe.
It takes power to absorb reality. Power lies in control, and the only control we can have is on our self.
Self control makes us the master of our life. But that is only the partial truth. Because if there is a master, there is a slave. And if we are the master then we must not forget it makes us the slave as well. Slaves to self-pity. Pity of not being able to control ourselves and our life. Perhaps why we feel so powerless sometimes, when our slave-self takes over the master. We become slaves to our own world of control and power. And it’s all too dark. Just like the black hole.
Let us not pity ourselves. Let us not become slaves to our self pity.
I believe this is the advice people offer confidently and, in abundance. You must have heard these powerful words ringing in your ears or infact you must be the person saying it often. They do magic, be it for some fraction of time until it’s effect diminishes, but they work most definitely. I am not denying what these words can do. But i believe the way people percieve it, is contradicting in certain ways.
You don’t want to care but you want people to care about you, you want to be heard and considered. How do you think that is going to happen if you enforce not caring about people and their thoughts? You feel offended about someone’s opinion and you declare that the person is not worth caring about. Have you imagined how many people think the same about you, have you realised how many people have you offended? It’s endless you know, you do that to others and others do it to you and then you wonder why you have less friends, you wonder why people have become selfish but you never wonder that you are one of those people. There are times we feel lonely even when we are surrounded with crowd and it’s a terrible, terrible feeling. You know why? Because when you realise that people don’t care about you, about who you are, you feel extremely worthless and left out.
The truth is, we have failed to distinguished when to care and when to not. We have completely restricted ourselves to who we care for because we are afraid we will get hurt. You can care and still not get hurt. And that is possible if you care unconditionally, without expecting the other person to care back. No, you will not be a loser if you give a damn. You will be one of those people who make the world a better place to live. You will certainly redefine generosity. Just imagine if someone does that for you. Now would you want to do the same for someone else?
It sits right in the middle of my chest. Slowly crawling it’s way up to my throat, making me suffocate. It’s hard to breathe but i do it anyway. I inhale sharply to the rhythm of air and try to exhale slowly. Oh how i wish that to work! I feel all the more nauseous. But that’s the thing about it, you cannot puke it out and neither can you swallow. It settles like a lump down your throat. If you can relate, you obviously know what i am talking about.
I don’t know what makes anxiety worse, is it the feeling itself or is it about acknowledging the feeling as one. Because once you realise you have it, you percieve it as a problem which cannot be solved. For a moment you are just fine and next you are sweating and feeling extremely vulnerable out of nowhere. They say it’s hard to describe what you feel but it’s not that way. You can describe what you feel but when you are in that moment, you are feeling so many emotions all at once that you fall short of time (not words). You can describe it best when you are actually feeling it because when it’s gone, it’s gone for good and you don’t want to bring it back by writing about it.
It’s like a trauma that hits you in waves. Sometimes they are so strong that they take you with it and you are not present in the moment anymore. You are struggling to breathe and come back to reality but you fail. Sometimes they are weak and pass easily and you are back to being ‘you’, feeling a lot better. It’s exhausting and sometimes even sleeping doesn’t help.
Sometimes you feel to be around people to feel less lonely and sometimes your solitude does the healing and the last thing you want to do is breathe the same air as someone else. Anxiety is high maintenance i tell you! But it does teaches you patience. Feeling lifeless teaches you a lot of patience.
It’s never enough to talk about anxiety. It’s all the same and yet so different every time you experience it.