An Open letter,
Unmute yourselves and let us speak up today!
We, as humans, are not perfect and tend to have many forms and kinds of indulgences.
It is time to speak the truth and face the harshest reality about ourselves?
We have been quiet for a long time. Instead, I would say we have been sleeping.
You dare to break free and look closely within?
It is easier said than done...
The topic I will be speaking about is Self-Destruction.
What does self-destruction mean?
Are you knowingly or unknowingly hurting yourself?
The word destruction can bring in a lot of wild and bewildered images in your mind. It is a negative phrase and termed with something bad.
Are you unhappy with yourself?
Is there something bothering you?
We find it very hard to accept ourselves and are always wearing a mask.
Well, I don't want to jump away to a straight solution.
I am different, and I am the only me. I choose not to fit in. I have been overstretching this to a limit. Everyone has a story, and it is truly yours. You decide to have a simple life or a complicated life, to be alone or happily married. We all are happy in our little world. But, I feel I centre myself on another planet in the more massive planet. There is something different, something else; a unique gift given to me that I need to tap in. I am happy being 24 only that I have learned my lessons.
The youth is often seen as the world of rock and roll, wild nights and the party animals, a reflection about rebelliousness and glamour and meeting the needs of hedonism.
For an extended period, I was sad about these things. This was my first anxiety attack because I was kept locked and protected from the world. I don't know, was it right or wrong. This was the plan of god for me.
I did get into addiction. Addiction with food. Food was and is my best friend.
I am part of the group. As a teenager, I used to distort myself, and binge eat and had a indulgence in emotional eating. I was a protected girl child. The parties, dazzling lights, dressing up was just a dream in my back pocket. My fictional boyfriend with all superpowers was my secret fairytale. I sensed and felt denial and suppression. I was closed and could not experience even a hint of sexuality.
I was in denial about myself. As a child, I could not understand, and I was acting out.
A form of suppression or denial of your own needs can lead to a kind of addiction, thereby causing self-destruction.
I used to numb myself with different kinds of foods. The strong aroma, flavours and heaviness, sluggishness of the diet gave me a sense of relief. Naah! I was an honest child who dares to play or touch her own body. Outside the teenager and butterflies, I had been sucked into the book womb and did not have time for me even to breathe. The yelling and abuse from my family were so loud that I started to destruct myself.
I was beaten up to straighten up instead of the love that was never given, which I needed the most as a child.
It is essential to understand the underlying root cause behind why am I feeling so in such a way?
Well, we are doing this at an unconscious level or a conscious level.
Even when we know, it is hard to come out of it. The junk food to the smoke to chocolate to drinks to sex is so appealing and speaks out come close to me baby!
This was my younger self.
It was time to turn to the next chapter of my life…
Gradually, I was overweight. Turning 18 and I was uncontrolled and used to bounce back. I was suppressed for an extended period. I burst off like a volcano. The level of my hormone shoots up. It was so repulsive to stop me. Well, I was craving for love and care. I got into an abusive relationship. He psychologically raped me with body shaming me, insulting me. He never showed up and instead hid me in a corner. I did everything I could to win his love. He tried to sodomize me but could not reach the finishing line. This was the second case of self-harm. I allowed him to put himself on me. This was wrong. Much of all, this was coming from the roots of my family, where I felt neglected and ignored. I could do anything to get his love. But, there came the point where I stopped and turned back. I broke the treadmill and won the victory of losing my weight. The drive and passion for his love made me do great things.
Well, this was not over. I waited to see some hope. My father came out to be toxic and tried every level best to cut my way and drag me into a forced marriage. I developed the third stage of self-harm, in which I started pulling my hair.
I square to god if this continues I will get blant. I needed to stop. I exclaimed that it is enough. I had enough.
Making way dragging and pushing I kept on paddling with life. But, I wish to take back my power! This is to the present shagun.
There can be many reasons like a dispute or conflict in a relationship. Something doesn't feel right. Well, that something is a part of you which is being ignored.
Are you insecure? Are you conscious of the way you look ?? Are you too hard on yourself? I guess many people can relate to me.
Setting a goal and not meeting it up can be frustrating. Tried several and many attempts to make your way through and not getting what you want can be frustrating. It did hit you hard in your heart. As per the research, the emotional pain and the psychical pain hold the same weightage. This is another form of destruction.
I did come out, but I was still traumatized and continued with the same pattern of shame, guilt and fear.
This time I push myself into the path of spirituality. Every single day is a moment of revelation. I do pick up the chocolates from the fridge and eat them. Food is a constant metaphor you would get to hear. Yes, food was my first love.
I am on my journey of healing. Yes, I am broken and broken many times, but yet I repeat my trail.
The shining stars at night are many, but I am the broken star out of them all.
“Well, it is gaining some inspiration from ancient history, the art of kintsugi where broken ceramics are reconciled again. It is filled with gold or metal or silver cement. This reminds us of how the broken object is reshaped into something more beautiful”.
This is to remind us that our history is what helps to press the button of reset. We are torn, but we can be stitched back.
The moment when I let go. People say I need a sip of alcohol to get charged up. I refuse. I choose to go natural. With all the eyes on me and making me a spotlight, people glare at me with keen sight. I don't care, and I am all by myself. Travelling alone and rejoicing in my own time and beauty. I showered myself with the beautiful scent of flowers. I was dancing on the beat and moving with high flow. The point is I let go, I made myself free and let myself be, and let myself feel. It is easy, trust me, just let it happen, and the flow will take place on its own.
You can be wild, fun without depending on any external resource. Speak your truth, say the words, my hips are heavy, but they look sexy, my curves, too loud, too big, too bold, too wild, too sexy. I won't sit, shut up or dim. Just turn off, dim away and hide away. No, I will show up.
For long, I was in survival mode, pushing myself through life. But now I choose to thrive and live every part of me. I now know where the urge of self destruct comes from. I can read my book; I can understand its every sentence, but now I choose to rephrase it and mark its ending with my pen.
Oftentimes, we are questioned and put into a bracket of weirdo. We always want someone by our side to not show up as a loner. But this concept is highly wrong. We deny and suppress our own being by fitting into the world.
Well, there are many moments which spark us. But, beyond this, we need to capitalise on our daily self-work to make ourselves self-aware and walk on the path of self-enlightenment.
It is very easy to hide than to face our reality. A topic like addiction is a taboo, and I today take a stand to talk about every topic and break the stereotype.
Every word used seemed like slay to me. I was made to believe in school that I can never be an artist. My colour went outside the circle; my lines were uneven even with the use of scale. I never dare to colour or paint again. After ages, I was introduced to art therapy. I wet my hands and feet. I am so engrossed into my art that I can't see anything. My notebook feels off from the desk. My earphone plugged out, water spilled, and it formed a beautiful art moment. I connected and healed myself through the mesmerizing magic of colours. I joined with everything from my object to my body till my bedsheet to the mug. I felt the thing and grounding happening. I started to flow slowly and gave birth to my creative expression. I am an art addict. The art form resembles hope, strength and empowerment. Through art, I learnt to adorn my home and body and to contemplate on the new changes in life. After love, heartbreak and trauma come next called as expression—the thick crayon held in the hand of a 5-year-old moves up recklessly. Used in the mental health setting also, I knew this is a perfect fit for me. We can take down the metaphors and symbols and rewrite our narratives. I aspire to become an art therapist one day listening to your deepest inner voice and bowing you down with unconditional respect.
Ask yourself these questions ?
What would you call your five years old inside?
Well, I will throw a tantrum, cry, and doodle and play and get back to my child spirit.
Are you awake or are you still sleeping when you get up?
We need to learn to honour the stories inside of us.
I am from the old woman and gentlemen generation. People have forgotten what it is to hold hands and talk till late at night and feel the heartbeat. I have even shifted the narrative of love.
Well, I don't need a man to complete me. I store these memories in my notebook.
Turn the page ,
We are bestowed with the ideal frame of perfectionism. My Facebook profile does not define me. I am not my Instagram account.
I convinced myself, clean up, get my coffee, stuff in the chocolate cookie.
I want things in place and try to get through the day. Breathe in, Breathe out, catching my breath; I am overwhelmed, scrolling the social media. Posting my Blog and juggling with the catastrophic number of likes, shares and reactions and trying to find my safe place in the lyrical music or the social media post. Convincing myself every time that it is ok, I am resilient, and I will bounce back. I try out my luck, pray to God. This voice always comes from within I need to get up. No, I need to get up. Just get the job done and get out. But I keep going and keep myself tied to this sadistic and bondage behaviour. I am jubilant while writing this Blog. Will I get my reward ? or it is only my Mumma retreat. I have a constant fear of not making it right, not making it look perfect, not good enough as others. OOOO, I feel overwhelmed right now. Relax, breathe in and breathe out. I took a pledge not to eat chocolate. ( The food addict in me wakes up!)
More than anything else, I want to free myself from regret. I am putting it on the web without caring about the likes and comments as this is what my heart ponders to open.
Well be a little more courteous, compassionate and follow sobriety. Do I love myself? I whispered in my ear!