In last one year, I have done something different. I didn’t make any conscious effort to do it, but it just happened. I started doing things I used to do during my early 20s. Those were some of the things I loved – they nourished my spirit and enthused me. The more I do those things, I more I realize the person I wanted to be when I grow up.
As a small child, I used to make up songs and stories about everything I encountered – from people, animals, stuffed toys and even doors and windows. These days I almost always hum some tune or the other.
Reading – well I was lucky enough to do that as I child. I am in my own way doing it now as well. I feel great! I’d lost the zeal for a while. Last month, when my laptop crashed, I felt quite helpless for some time. Then it was like a blessing in disguise – prompted me to turn to the books that were meant to be read since long. unfortunately those were arranged orderly on the shelf for some years.
Writing of course, it is my passion. It’s what I’m good at, and it’s what I love to do. I’ve known I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 6 years and it was destined to happen, and yes, I’m writing a lot more.
I have started to laugh a lot as well… As a child, I was floating around in my own little bubble a lot of the times. I was very selective about friendship and loved spending time with them. The older I got, the more I was affected by societal expectations (not that I am completely out of it now) Though I was never really one of the girls, I did notice what girls were expected to be interested in, and expected to look and act like – and I noticed where I didn’t match up. Strange looks from peers and adults quickly convinced me that certain ideas, observations, and outbursts were not considered “normal”. Eventually, I learned to accept “weird” as a compliment, but still felt some shame about not being more like everyone else.
As an adult, I was supposed to have a normal, 9-5 job. I was supposed to treat my creativity as a hobby that I might occasionally have time for. I was supposed to be content with working at something I didn’t enjoy.
Well, doing all of that stuff didn’t make me happy. And it certainly didn’t make me feel like myself. I felt like a distorted image. I looked and acted in a way that was mostly in line with my values…but just a little fuzzy, with the details blurred.
With time I changed, unknowingly. Don’t know exactly who or what triggered this change. But the past year would remain eventful in the journey of my life – it helped me re-familiarize myself with my own mind. It helps when you spend in silence for some time. you can listen to the thoughts that drift through randomly.
There have also been some outer manifestations. I’m writing more now – and also writing for myself, reading my favorite books, chatting up and meeting old friends, reading very old newspapers, playing checkers with mom. Well, also cooking occasionally. I’ve also found myself making up and singing songs around the house, trying my hands in poetry and cleaning up my bookshelf more frequently.
When I see my friends, I’m smiling a lot more and sharing my thoughts more easily. My new found energy motivates me to work and live. I discover the kid within me that was laying dormant for several years… and I like that kid a whole bunch.