Being Me

 

Dated: 26th of March 2023

It was a cold and gloomy day. March had arrived but the cloudy skies concealed the sunshine. The sunshine seemed persistent to somehow make its way through the darkest of clouds, but unfortunately, its efforts seemed to go in vain. The gardens seemed lifeless, there were no chatters, no music and no chaos. Yes, I had been so accustomed with chaos in my everyday life that its absence seemed queer. 

I was still my usual self, a self-engrossed, quiet teenager who loved to do everything according to her whims and fancies, but still, was concerned about what others’ perceptions about me were. The cold weather encouraged me to step into the library. The books on the shelves seemed to invite me with their arms wide open. I searched a lot but couldn’t find the book that I looked for. The students around, looked at me. Those peculiar looks made me feel uneasy. I picked up another book and began my quest for knowledge. Upon the completion of my work, I left the library with a seemingly bizarre thought; it was about the fact that it was so difficult to be me, it wouldn’t be easy for someone else to step into my shoes even for a day. I attended lectures, answered questions, presented facts and tried to gain insight into sciences but the ‘bizarre thought’ seemed to be embedded in my mind. 

I wished somebody could become me and just understand how tough a job it was to ‘be me’. Instead of perceiving various things about me, people would know why I am, the way I am. They would understand that my tough outer shell exists just to protect, or rather fake an individual who seemed indifferent. People seem to be so carefree, they just go with the flow. It has been said that we can’t take control of everything, but I want to take control of my life. I want them to understand how it feels to have hundreds of thoughts racing through the head, thousands of aspirations knocking the doors of the mind and millions of inspirations trying to gain my attention. If just for a day, I could be someone else, if not ‘someone else’ maybe, simply be my friend, Alisha. It was so wonderful to be her, to be understanding, to not try to take control of everything in life, to just be brave to face everything without cluelessly bracing up for the uncertainties in life.

These thoughts, I knew, could never be manifested. I had to somehow make it through ‘being me’. I cannot slow down, I cannot take a moment and enjoy how beautiful everything is; I can either tire myself to strive for my goals or disappoint and discourage myself by brooding over misunderstood comments. 

The morning that followed seemed different; I woke up feeling joyous. I looked at the plants in my garden, engrossed myself in looking up their scientific names and stepped inside my cozy little room. My mind was calm and I did not have a mental to-do list for the day. I had to be well-groomed, not for the sake of the perception of the people but for myself. I was no longer a quiet, or rather isolated individual who walked towards the campus speaking to none. I was a lively person, I had friends with whom I conversed, laughed and didn’t realise when I reached the gates of the institute. I looked for my thick bundle of notes that I carried everyday, this time, my handwriting seemed different, it no longer looked like complicated terms embossed on thick sheets of paper, it consisted of the simplest of words for the most complex of concepts. From morning till evening, everything seemed to go so well. I was finally living in the moment, racing thoughts and anticipations didn’t strike my mind. Being there for those who mattered to me, seemed to be as necessary as paying attention to my unending thoughts. How did I become so serene? Why didn’t I lash out at that friend for what she had said? Was it really me? I wondered. Why was Alisha behaving like I used to, today? Why was she not able to rid herself of persistent thoughts? Why was she so conscious about what everybody said about her? The day finally came to an end, but I wept, I could no longer bear the brunt of words said without any response from my end. Why did this happen? Everything was so good in the morning. Why did I cry now? Why was I suddenly worried more about my people? Why was it that I wasn’t completely fine but still smiling at everyone around? I wrote in my diary, but my worries seemed different. 

The following day, I woke up as my usual self. I woke up, holding the grudges of the past, anticipations for the future, worries for the day, thoughts about others’ perceptions, and a lot more. Yet, all of this seemed to be so ‘me’. I was again my true self. Yes, a few of these are my qualities, a few are, flaws and a handful are, both. When I met Alisha, she told me that she too felt that she was finally her ‘true self’. Racing thoughts, a bad temper, self- created worrisome situations weren’t quite liked by her; but she was happy that she had become quite sensitive and perceptive, she believed that it was a good quality to have. I told her that worrying about my people, instead of myself, weeping without actually expressing my anger were some things that didn’t seem usual for me but speaking to people and truly living in the moment were some qualities I wished I could embrace forever. Both of us laughed, the qualities that I wanted to possess, which were already there in Alisha, seemed to be flaws in her eyes and vice-versa. 

Isn’t it beautiful yet difficult for us to “be ourselves”? We think that those around us have easier lives and it is so easy to be “them”. Yes, all of us have our flaws, all of us have our qualities, and they make us ‘whole’. Instead of gently nurturing ourselves, we reprimand our flaws. We forcefully try to mend them. But who decides what is a quality and what is a flaw? Strangers? Acquaintances? Friends? We, ourselves? My mind that seems to be in a hurry, the mind that quickly distances itself from people simply for their words and actions (according to my perceptions), my heart that seems to lack the patience to wait for the outcomes of my hard work, all seem to be my flaws. But what if there is somebody who wants to inculcate these very qualities or flaws? 

 

How did all of this happen? Did Alisha and I become one another for a day? Maybe, our discussion about how difficult it was to “be me” made us realise about our true selves. I do not know how this happened, but I know that now, I would no longer scorn myself for “being me”.