Constraints are Beautiful
Feb 1 2022 marks one year since I moved to California. About 2 and a half years since I moved to the States.
A lot has changed. I can’t even seem to recognize myself. Yes, I’m still frail and skinny on the outside. To my friends, nothing really has changed. And they were sure to voice it out during my recent visit home (If you have any tips to gaining weight, I’m all ears.)
But I know that I have.
Growing up in college, I used to always tell my mom that I like to be busy. It kept me on my toes and made me more productive. It is usually when I’m running around hosting events, staying on top of my extra curricular activities and completing my assignments, did I actually find motivation to study for my final exams. If not, I would only open my books when I aboslutely had to. More often that not, it would come to ~ 12 hours before the exam. What can I say — the college experience back home was another thing altogether. Curious to know more — watch Hridayam to catch a glimpse!
But my mother was very studious when she was my age. Obviously, she had no idea of what I was going through. Brushing aside everything I had to say, she would calm herself down and think of me as a haughty child. She conveniently told me this after I graduated.
And I coudn’t put it all together until now.
It has been a long time since I’ve written anything down. What was once a joyous exercise — has now — turned out to be something that I dread.
Was it fear? I often asked myself why people would read what I have to say. What if I’m just another contributor to the noise prevalent today?
No, it was something deeper. I prodded myself more — could it be jealousy? Everyone around me seemed to have found their brand and their voice. I knew what I wanted but I was not there yet. Being comfortable in your own skin can make you take things slow and I was is no mood to play catch up. Maybe I was complacent? No, it could not be — I am just getting started here.
I was normally always in tune in my feelings but I guess there is a first time for everything. I realized how perplexed my mind was. There was just no answer.
Browsing through my photos app one day, I came across some random screenshots I had previously saved on my phone in an obscure folder. Comments where kind readers responded they could relate to what I had written in my blog posts. Messages from friends. During the very little time I wrote, I had infact made a slight difference in the world. I realized I wrote not because I wanted to be a writer. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be one — only time will tell. But I wrote because I wanted people to acknowledge what I felt and know that they are not alone.When you read something somewhere and you say to yourself, “This person gets it” — it is this unseen, unheard yet very real bond with an absolute stranger on the internet that I craved for.
And then it finally struck me out of nowhere.
I was scared to be vulnerable. Terrified.
This fear of being judged has been a constant friend of mine for as long as I can remember but now it seemed to have consumed me whole, a shadow everywhere I go.
Even as I type this out, I can’t help but think about how I would be judged. It is sad. So engrossed are we, in the opinions of what people will say, do we fail to hear ourselves think. And I haven’t heard myself in a long time. But it is got to stop.
My grandmom used to always tell me that nothing in life makes sense. I was young and naive to understand what she meant. She passed away soon after.
In the minimal hours of my life spent reading, there is only one inevitable truth I’ve accumulated so far. You want the happy moments to stay forever. You tend to grow around the pain. All in all, you realise — life is short.
So before it is too late, I want to acknowledge it. Embrace it. I owe it to myself to do what I think is best for myself.
Writing is a craft and needs to be practiced regularly. I will not be ashamed of the fact that I took a break albeit due to fear. I’m probably going to be terrible at it.
Picking yourself up is hard. But you chip at it, one step a time. Constraints are beautiful — it allows you to be creative, keep things moving. It lets you weaken your innermost fears. Make time for what really brings you joy. For me, it is writing.
Pushing myself to take on different things helped me become efficient in college. Time as a constraint will now be my savior as I slowly walk away from my insecurities.
The realization is what makes this one life you have, worth living.
