It had been months since she had first woken up because of her dreams.
She had always had peaceful sleep, however little, it was peaceful, no dreams, no anxiety. But months ago she had started having dreams.. Dreams from which she woke up completely anxious, not knowing what to do; in pain. She had gone through the usual process of going to pieces and putting herself back. It took some time but the dreams had stopped, she had overcome the hollow in her stomach and had her walls back in place.
So today, suddenly when she woke up from her sleep, all anxious, all in pain, she realized, some scars run deeper, some scars continue bleeding long after they have given the false illusion of having healed. It was all too familiar.. the pain, the anxiety.. However, one thing had changed.. She now knew, she knew what was to be done..
She waited, waited for it to pass!
Feminism. I have never been a feminist (from what I make of the word). I have always believed that men and women are not equal. They are made different for a purpose.. That neither is superior than the other. Each one has it’s own purpose. Like doing heavy physical work is more difficult for women, raising a child or caring for another is done best by a lady. So two days ago when he said he doesn’t want to be in any relationship with anyone it sounded absurd. Why would someone not want that feeling, that experience. It didn’t make sense. Maybe there was some reason he didn’t want to share. Little did I know then that two days later I would be echoing the same words. That I would have the realization that there are some battles you are bound to lose. Battles against your loved ones. When you are screaming inside and partially outside because it is wrong, when decades old thinking decide how you have to live your life, when you cannot do/say anything for the fear that age might take it’s toll.. When it suddenly strikes you that it is the same everywhere, everyone thinks the same way at the end of the day. That it is no less than a crime being an independent girl. A girl who has her own definition of right and wrong. To be an ideal girl one should not forget what society expects from her. A good girl even after 27 years is expected to follow the instructions given to her. It becomes clear, crystal clear. That it is not only about the past 27 years but about her whole life. First her parents, then her husband. There is no identity, there was no right to the “I”. It was just an illusion.. There will never be the same respect or trust..It will be nothing more than getting out of one well and voluntarily jumping into another..
It makes perfect sense now.. It is a choice, between having that ‘I’ and losing it everyday for the ‘we’.
A hollow in the pit of stomach,
It is getting real, it is getting real!
To the depths from the peak in fraction of seconds,
It is getting worse, it is getting worse!
Tons of friends and loved ones around,
It is getting lonlier, it is getting lonlier!
There are screams inside, words are hard to come by,
It is getting scarier, it is getting scarier!
Hands of help are being extended, wish could grab a finger,
It is drowning, It is drowning!
“It seems like a forced conversation”
“Ohh, i dunno!”
“It feels like you chose her over me”
“Ohh, is it!”
“It’s like all that matters is him”
“Ohh, ofcourse, i love him!”
The walls are breaking down, the strength is seeping away,
The facade of non-chalance is tearing up, the self-esteem is dying,
The mind is cluttered, the heart is in chaos,
The silence is broken.
Self-pity, worthlessness, self-disgust and insanity have become more than just words,
The logical part is crawling the world for a solution,
New resolutions of being strong are made and broken every day,
Efforts have to be made to love oneself.
That’s how the breaking happens,
That’s when your core beliefs are put to test,
That’s the place from where coming back is the most difficult,
That’s the time the brain says, “At the end, it’s only you, I told you so!”
Veintinueve de noviembre de dos mil diecisies,
Aristotle, in Book II of his “Rhetoric“, defines kindness as being “helpfulness towards someone in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped”
Though a believer of Ayn Rand’s philosophy of “No one does anything for anyone else. Every action of each human being is for his/her own benefit, be it materialistic or be it for the inner self.”, a direct contradiction of the above definition, there are times when I have felt kindness from the people around. So, i’ll just modify the definition of kindness (slightly), to “helpfulness towards someone in need, not in return for anything, nor for any materialistic or major advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped.”
Kindness is not just helping the poor, or giving away money. Kindness is being the fittest of the group, but “choosing” to walk with the last person in the line. Kindness is about not making the other person feel helped. Kindness is giving a smile, asking “Are you okay?” to a random person on a public transport who has her eyes moist. Kindness is about not making the other person feel guilty about his/her mistake when you know she is already giving herself a hard time for it.
They say love is the all encompassing, love is the all sufficient, love is the most priced.. But love is also the one that gives the most pain (Though the point of love which gives pain is moot). Kindness, on the other hand, is never painful, kindness is the all-healing.
Be Kind. Be kind to a person who is shouting for no reason, you just don’t know the real reason. Be kind to a person who is unconventionally silent, there is a hurricane going on inside. Be kind to the one who has lost a dear one, there is absolutely nothing else that can relieve the pain. Be kind to the person who displays immense strength, there is a mountain of struggles s/he is trying to overcome on his/her own. Be kind, for you don’t know when your little act of kindness can be the last strand of strength they are hanging on!
To the people, who have showed kindness during the not so good times. Wish I could be as kind someday.
Veinte de mayo de dos mil dieciseis
There are so many things we take in life for granted. And there are equal no of times when we are being taken for granted. We are at a greater sin when we allow ourselves to be taken for granted. Be it a mother being taken for granted by her child, be it a brother being taken for granted by his sister or be it a friend whose behaviour changes like the ever changing weather of the desert, every single time, it is our moral duty to ourselves, to not allow others to take us for granted.
One may ask, how do we do that? How do we control other peoples’ behaviour towards us? I’d say that not everyone is important enough to even bother considering/thinking about their behaviour, but those close to us – them who have the power to affect us about whom we should be concerned.
Now, if they belong to the category of close friends, most of the times it would be you who considers the other person as a close/good friend and the feelings might not be reciprocated which is the only explanation which would make them take you for granted. The simple solution here is to start maintaining your distance, by not giving so much importance to them in your life, by not going that extra mile every single time. They may realize your importance or they might not, it shouldn’t matter either ways because the goal was to not make them realize your importance but to stop getting a vestigial organ type treatment.
But, The tricky part is when it is family, when it is your own child who takes you for granted, when for him/her the rest of the world, his friends, his girlfriend, take a higher priority than you. Here, you cannot just not care, at the end of the day, it is family, your own blood. For this sadly, I cannot think of any way, other than to just be patient and explain every single time they do it, that when no one will be there, there will still be family! 🙂 And just hope that they realize it before it is too late!