Reflections

The little chubby girl in her school uniform stood next to the school gate, shivering, drenching in the heavy rains. It was getting darker and she seemed to be the only one on the school premises. She appeared scared and lost but you could see it in her eyes, that she was not looking for help anymore. She just stood there, biting her nails….. not trying to take shelter from the rain…. just waiting…waiting for the thunderstorm to stop.

I woke up, breathless, drenched in sweat on a cold winter night. I had a feeling that the girl in the dream seemed familiar…

The past week had been difficult. I was laughed at whenever I mentioned it was the “PMS”. How can something that arrives every single month affect a woman to this extent? They never seemed to understand the mood swings. But it continued to sap me this time around…You know the kind that makes you want to tell people you’re off the grid? That makes you want to uninstall social media apps and not talk to anyone about it. That which makes you sulk in a corner as you spiral into the darkest places? I am sure you understand, and don’t at the same time.

It felt like a push I didn’t know I needed towards being aware of all that it could do to me even now. I stopped sleeping. My appetite reduced. I stopped talking and I started thinking more. Craving for chocolates and intimacy and warm hugs increased proportionally with the conviction to push everyone away so they would not see what was well hidden. Last night, I picked at my skin, lost in restlessness and agitation… till it bled. As I felt the warm blood on my fingers, I panicked as I realised, I hadn’t picked my skin in more than 10 years. It was scary to know that a habit I’d conquered and buried long back could surface back within minutes. It led me to think about all the other skeletons I’d buried long back.

They say you dislike that in others, which you dislike in yourself. That everyone you dislike around you is merely mirroring the worst within you. It was only recently that I realised that the disgust I felt for erratic people was the disgust I felt for myself. What I felt towards people who suppressed and held onto their anger until they got a convenient moment to showcase an outburst of temper, was the disgust I felt for my younger self for all the outbursts I have had with my family.

But this was also something I’d already fought and conquered long ago, nobody ever saw me angry now, nobody ever saw me erratic now. The mask was strong. I was good at suppressing the beast and uncaging it only within the boundaries of my family. It was the only place where I let go off the act that I was in control of. The mood swings were not as debilitating as before, I could very well attend a social function even when my body pushed me to break down and cry. And the anger I used to project had turned inwards, anger on self through acts of clumsiness, self-blame, self-pity, and a hell lot of shame.

This was not always the case. The memory still haunts me, I remember sitting in the school park with all the giggles from the other school girls ringing in my ears. I sat alone on the swing as the group of girls stood behind me passing comments that made my spine shiver. The ringing grew louder and before I knew it, I’d stormed towards the group and pushed one of the girls down. I had barely begun to process what I’d just done when I realised that I’d pushed the new girl down. The girl who was just trying to fit in, the girl who was ready to bully another only to ensure that she wasn’t the next target. I knew exactly what she was doing, because I was once her.

I backed out in horror. Everyone gasped as they helped the scared little girl up. The giggles and whispers grew louder as I began to shake in anger and guilt. This wasn’t me. I never hurt anybody. But that moment, I knew…. I knew that I’d just scarred an already nervous newbie in school. She left school after a year. I never knew why. I could never talk well to her after that. The guilt choked me every time.

It makes me wonder how many times I have been insensitive, dominant, and attacking towards other people’s needs and space? How many times have I been the reason for somebody’s fear and anguish.

How many of us can call out the bully in ourselves?

Because for that one minute, I was the bully there. I was the one who made a little girl feel scared and small and powerless in a situation. It was not my greatest moment, not something I am proud of, it has never happened again, but that one time will continue to haunt me for years to come. Maybe until I can apologize to her…And you, if you are reading this, which is highly unlikely, I am very sorry. I hope you forgive me. I was scared, I didn’t know how to be assertive, I was angry, the years of bullying and my inability to stand up for myself urged me to act out in rage… and the only thing I had learned from my peers was to react the same way they did, with force…through power, aggression or manipulation.

It was the one incident that pushed me to learn to regulate my mood swings and learn to control my temper. I thought I’d forgotten this incident… but some moments, some downfalls, it never leaves you.

Kindness is often learned, often reminded to follow every day. Be it to yourself or others. I try, every day, to be as kind as I can to other beings. Because I have been on the receiving end of kindness and more so because people have been unkind to me.

To everyone who regrets their demons, and calls themselves out for once having been unkind, I know it is not easy. And I am proud of myself and you for having the courage to do so. I hope (for myself) and for you, that you learn to forgive yourself for the same.

It is as easy as Ellen DeGeneres once said,

“I think we need more love in the world. We need more kindness, more compassion, more joy, more laughter. I definitely want to contribute to that.”