Then at the same time, I try to not be one, and I hold back. Or rather, I hold back from stating things which are confrontational or overly sentimental, or way too personal. That's why I stopped writing the way I wish I could write.
Today I got a huge, umm, not sure what to really call it - a wake up call? A shock it was certainly, because it hurt me immensely when I came across something that made me feel absolutely ridiculous. Not ridiculous only, because that sort of implies a self-consciousness grounded with ego. But further, a sense of betrayal. A sense of being taken for granted. Or of failure.
I had a huge cry-out. And yeah I am actually admitting this here. I normally avoid opening up completely on this blog, and one of the things I had a good think about was this also; specifically, why I do this. Avoiding becoming too personal or vulnerable; opening up fully was something I had grown to avoid like the plague. Consequently, I ended up writing extremely vaguely, and furthermore, this resulted in loopy, wordy and vociferous posts that might have sounded profound and poignant, but must have definitely confused my reader.
But the point was that I wasn't supposed to be writing for anyone else, right? For myself? But that is something I lost in trying to balance the forces of expression and art. And I lost myself somewhere also.
So yeah, I had a huge cryfest. FYI: I have these often. I cry easily. I also laugh easily. I'm a softy, and this is something I try to guard like the crown jewels, because well, this was just another consequence of bad experiences. The more I opened up and showed how vulnerable I was, the quicker people were to lose interest and drop you like a hot potato - or, maybe worse: take you for granted.
Being taken for granted is something I have strugged with for...well pretty much my whole life. From being the eldest in a family with huge hardships, and having to take care of everyone - I lost the sense of being able to be me from a very young age. I couldn't be me, because I was busy being a mother/wife/sister/servant for everyone else. So I was molded into being a people-pleaser. This stuck with me in varying ways over the years. Trying to be this, or trying to be that. Working harder to do things to make someone else feel better or pleased.
Anyways, all this is already making me cringe with how sentimental it all seems. I hate having to express myself or explain myself in the form of describing whatever experiences; as if in some way that's asking for pity. It isn't that I have ego or pride to not want people to pity me, I just don't want to use whatever experiences to gain it, when I feel that so many people out there have it way worse. I just gotta deal with it so I'm okay.
But there was something else entirely that I had wanted to write about. Being taken for granted - I don't know. I already hesitate to label it as this, because I already know that the reaction of those who I would 'accuse' of doing this would be hurt. And there again, I don't want to hurt someone else, so I hold back from doing so. But isn't that already a symptom of the problem? I don't know.
Sometimes I wish I weren't the person I was really. I wish I wasn't so kid-at-heart ish. Because maybe my thoughts and words would be more meaningful. Or that I was more aloof and restrained with giving myself to others - maybe other people would want to try harder to please me. Maybe there is something afterall that rings true with this concept of playing hard to get.
Much of this might be eye-opening to some of you - because I don't talk about most of this. My personal life story, the idea that I am a real kid (at heart), or how sensitive a person I am. Which is ironic in comparison to the previous paragraph, isn't it.
Anyways. So post-cryfest, I decided to go slave in the kitchen (doing something I love, and also keeping me busy and productive) but of course, I had to think through everything. Who says I think too much?
I had to first gauge if my reaction was overdone. It might have been, nevertheless, even if I cut away the extra-sensitivity, there were things which remained that still hurt. Then I considered, why must I keep trying to mould myself to meet another person's standards? And why was I putting everything of myself and my world centered around this one person? Was it reciprocated, equally? No.
Then I figured, why was I doing all this, then? Just because love said that I shouldn't expect anything back? (And oh yes, this gets heavier, gee whiz, love.) I don't know. Something I considered long time back was that I put more into the pot so that it felt that there was enough in it to provide for the amount given by two people. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should stop.
Ah, I know - there is someone who's thinking I told you so. That's okay. You told because you cared. And I reciprocate your care by listening to you. So yup. I think I'm pretty much vented out.
Today is (was?) International Women's Day, and the theme for me is loving myself. And I'm going to stop caring about whoever gives a damn about the things I give a damn about. It hurts but what can you do. Yesterday I was looking at this website for lyrics, looking at the lyrics of "Let It Go" from Disney's Frozen (because 1. I'm totally a Disney child and 2. I love the song, dammit)...and other than the aptness of the lyrics for my own state of mind, when I scrolled down to the meaning of the lyrics as interpreted by the commenters, I stumbled across a flame war by a bunch of 9 year olds. It was hilarious, in a way. In a sad, pathetic way, I grant you, but funny, because you just imagine these little imps tapping away into their keyboards with their tiny faces all scrunched up, and almost half of them can't spell, nevermind grammar, so they're arguing in between asking "wat dose unighted meen". But the gist of their argument was whether the song had anything to do with love at all or not, and one side was declaring that it was love for the self. So yeah. Let it go!
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.
Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.
Don't let them in, don't let them see.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know.
Well, now they know!
Let it go, let it go!