Tag Archives: therapy

Oh my.

Hello, world.

I’m uncomfortable.

Just kidding.

Well, kind of.

I don’t know how it happened but somehow I became so comfortable with being alone and like three other friends that now the idea of meeting someone new makes me so uncomfortable its insane. When I say people, it’s mostly boys that make me feel uncomfortable.

I first came to know about this when me and my friend were just hanging out, minding out business and day drinking. Then, her friend called and invited himself. And it honestly made me want to leave. I don’t even know that dude, and I honestly don’t have any problem with him. Still, from the moment he arrived to when I left, I felt like shit.

Then some days later, my friend made plans with him again and invited me to go with them to Bhopal. I wouldn’t have even thought about it if it was just me and my friend, but some other dude with us??? The thought actually made me want to throw up. Needless to say, I did not go with them.

It’s also not limited to that one guy, it’s any guy. I legitimately panic if a guy calls me, like I did a few days ago when a dude I hadn’t spoken to in YEARS called me. I knew him in a very wild time of my life. Not something I care about reminiscing. I tried to relax myself because we were talking on the phone. There was nothing he could do that should have me feeling worried. I even tried to explain to him that being around boys had started to make me feel some weird way. Nothing good came out of it. He just suggested that I needed to get laid to change that attitude.

Then a dude I knew was in town in August, I guess???? He tried to reschedule three time and all three times I had to come up with an excuse which didn’t involve the words “The fact that you’re a boy scares the shit out of me”.

This feeling is annoying, because I do like boys. I’m human, I have…you know, urges and feelings, that too for the opposite sex. Not being able to talk to them hinders the entire point.

The only reason I’ve come up with to explain this is that over the past year, any guy that has ever come into my life has only ever wanted one thing. That’s okay for them to want to sex with someone, I don’t care. It’s just I’m not that person. I don’t mean this in a “I’m-so-hot-everyone-wants-to-sleep-with-me” because that’s not true. That’s just the pattern it’s been the past year or so for me.

It’s not like I didn’t try, you know. But I’ve been so focused on not lying to everyone else that I forgot to not lie to myself. I’m not that person who can be intimate with just about anyone. I’ve tried to be, but I’m not. It does not make me feel good and I refuse to do that anymore. I don’t care if other people do this. I’m not judging. It’s their body, it’s their decision and it’s none of my business. Similarly, It’s my body, and it’s my decision to not do that anymore, and it’s no one else’s business.

Do I wish things were different? Yes. I wish I was that person who could be carefree with her body, who could talk to whatever boy she wanted or do whatever with anyone she wanted. I don’t want to feel like crap afterwards. I so wish it was me. But it’s not. I don’t care what anyone else has to say.

It’s my body. It’s the only thing I can control. The decision to share it with someone, or not to, should be up to me, and only me.

But other than that, I do know a guy who is like family to me. Palash has never been creepy to me. He’s always been respectful and very understanding and I guess that’s the reason he’s the only dude who doesn’t give me the creeps.

I don’t know any more than this. This might be just a very prolonged phase, but this is what it is. I know I can’t go my entire life without talking to men, but for now, I’m willing to avoid it as much as I can.

 

 

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Not worth it

So…ahem, anyone who said that heartbreak is worth the experience… It’s not.

Nothing, like, NOTHING, is worth the pain (Or anger, in my case).

Nothing serious, okay? I just…I thought I was above all that teenage drama and stupid crushes and relationships or whatever….but as it turns out, I’m a normal teenager.

I just don’t like it. It’s upsets me, but doesn’t hurt. It’s mostly anger, and it’s completely screwing with what I thought of myself.

Just saying, not worth it.

Thank god for ice cream with melted chocolate. Now, that’s worth getting fat 😛

 

Your secret is safe

Okay, the only reason I’m still posting here while my boards are going on is because I’ve recently learned that people who’ve told me the stories of their lives have also admitted to me that they’re scared by the fact that they’ve told me everything.

Here’s the thing.

I don’t go around telling the whole world what happened to you. Gossip is one thing, and sensitive matters are a whole different category of secrets.

I know how it feels like when you spill your guts to your stranger. It feels good for about an hour, and then the panic kicks in. I know, okay, I know how scary that can be. I’ve tried it. I’ve been where you’re at, that’s why I say how important it is to just say whatever you feel like to a person you know will keep your secret.

What will I get from telling people stories about your life? Why will I do something to others that I don’t want happening to myself? Come-freaking-on!

Whatever you’ve said to me in person, email, Facebook, or whatever is literally going to go with me. It’s never ever be spread out to other people.

As far as the fear of judging goes, I’m the last person in this big mad world who will judge you. Why? Because I’ve done more dumb stuff in my life than I care to remember.

So, the gossip part is out. The judging part is out.

Why the hell are you scared now?

I’m not carnivore. I’m not going to bite you if you tell me your problems (A few months back, I wouldn’t be so sure, but that’s irrelevant now)

If you’re reluctant to talk to me, then it’s your choice. I’m not going to hold you collar down or put you on gunpoint to tell me everything that’s happened to you!

But if you do decide to tell me, trust me on this, you have no reason to fear it afterwards. I’m not Charles Augustus Magnussen. I’m not going to blackmail you later in life in exchange for something.

So, I know most of you are going to read this.

Don’t be afraid. Fear is what’s going to take us down one day, it’s better we dump it first.

The irony is not lost on me…

Being an introvert, I don’t usually initiate a conversation with anybody. I prefer to stay in my own bubble of thoughts, even if they’re not good. I’m way comfortable in my own skin. I don’t care what people think of me personally, but I am forced to think that how people will think of my family. Everything my name could bear has been damaged by my father. I can’t afford it to deteriorate any further. So, its upon me to carry out the dignity of my name, at least till the time I’m living in Indore.

Because I’m ‘The girl who can do no wrong’, I’m forced to go to different occasions and events and what not. When I’m there, I find a quite place. Maybe at the back of the stage, the corner-most table or the balcony. There, I just sit and hope that no one will disturb me. Well, of course they do. Sometimes I hear people’s most intimate conversations, which I wish I could un-hear. Sometimes, i see someone crying, trying to maintain their composure, at least until the event is over. Sometimes, people just ramble on their own, leaving me disgusted by their gory details. The mot surprising thing is, that they don’t even see me sitting there. I mean seriously, you have to be blind to not see a person as gigantic as me. I’m seriously tall for my age and impossible not to notice.

And sometimes when people do see me, they sit next to me and then start sharing their feelings with me. When they start talking without any warning, I think, “Is it written on my face that I want to talk to you? Do I give the vibes that I’m slightest bit interested in whats going on with you?”

When I person is unloading their heart on front of me, I can’t say the above things. I can’t just stand up and leave. I can’t start talking about my own crap instead. I listen to them because in that moment I realize that I’m not alone. I put my pain aside and listen to the person because that person has had it in him since god-knows-how-long. They have had that thing eating them from inside and today, they’re finally getting the chance to let it all out. I listen because I’ve been where they’re at. For some bizarre reason, I understand them. I get each and everything they’re trying to say to me. I mean, yes, at times I do feel like shutting a girl up when she’s whining about a pair of shoes she couldn’t find in her size, but I let her talk because I don’t know what those shoes meant to her. Maybe they were symbolic in some ways she doesn’t even know. Maybe she’s just shallow, but I don’t know for sure, so I let her talk and I listen. While they’re talking, I envy them. If only I had someone I could talk to. If only I knew how to talk to strangers. If I had talked to someone before all this crap in my life started happening, then maybe I wouldn’t be so broken. Maybe I wouldn’t be a hundred shades of messed up. Maybe I’d be happier. I don’t talk about my feeling very often. I write them down or post them here. 

There are people who dare to share the most personal things with a stranger. Maybe because they feel like the stranger won’t judge them, and maybe they’ll never see each other again. In my case, that’s not true. I mostly see the people who share with me every day. Either they’re in my school or they live near me. And that’s fine with me. I don’t go and ask them again if the thing they were worried about is solved. It’ll just make them feel awkward. Instead, I just smile at them and let them know that their secret is safe with me.

It also gives a certain amount of pressure when they tell me that they’re doing something which they SHOULD NOT be doing. At that time, I’m in dilemma. Should I go tell their parents? Should I give them advice? Am I the right person to give the advice? I don’t say anything to them. I just listen, and I guess my silence tells them that they need hep. They need help beyond the kind which I can give them. They understand and then ask about my life. I smile in my head and say, “Nothing much to say, you know. My life is pretty boring.” They smile at me and they know that they’re not getting a word out of me. They don’t force me and I’m grateful for it.

The thought that I’m the reason they’re feeling better is the one thing that helps me sleep at night. I’m happy that they got this off their chest and now, they’re going to do whats best for them, and I had a part in it!