I’m not sure how to label myself at this point of my life. I’ve been the anti-social weirdo the majority of my existence, I’m not sure who to credit or blame for it but it’s just me. Being an introvert is my comfort zone, going to social events gave me anxiety. How many times did you hear someone says those exact words ? I’ve avoided going to weddings, gatherings, even funerals because I can’t handle it. I’ve mentioned it few times, I really can’t handle people for long time. I have my limit, I’ll pretend I have something to do when I reach my quota of “Social-ness”. I’m completely fine with being alone, it’s been part of my personality as long as I remember.
When I got married, I realized I’ll be living with my in laws and that terrified me because I don’t know if they’ll be fine with my personality. For the four years I’ve been living with them, I’ve struggled to fit in. I want to be accepted but it’s really hard doing that when my personality doesn’t really match their’s, it’s sad though because they don’t want to hang out with me or ask me to go out with them. I’m still fine with it, it didn’t really effect me. Is it bad that I’m okay not having any personal relationship with my in laws ? I just have small talks and co-exist in the same house.
Recently, I’ve been trying to better myself, try to be more positive and try to be more social. It’s been great honestly, I’ve discovered new sides of me. I was actually bonding with them which is something I didn’t think I was capable of, I’m not sure if I would consider it a happy period of time because it didn’t last that long. A conflict came up recently and the outcome of it was obviously a defeated shadow of the temporary me. It really blew up on my face and I lost that motive to even try again, I realized after this that I’m only trying to fit in. Forcing myself to fit in would be the right term.
I’m an introvert even if I try to get out from this bubble. I’m more comfortable in that bubble. I’m me in that bubble. I don’t expect anyone to understand it but I always hope of acceptance.
Today is apparently World Kindness Day. While days seem to be quite ordinary with the usual daily routine, it’s nice to stop for a moment and remember our values. Please remember it’s easy to spread love and be kind to someone, a smile, a nice compliment, even just saying goodmorning to someone may just make their whole day. I hope you all have a great day today and I’m sending virtual flowers to all my readers.
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I recently came across a spoken word poetry by Sabrina Benaim called Explaining My Depression to My Mother and it inspired me to write this post. It’s hard confessing feelings and emotions to someone close but in my case … My mother. I don’t want to be like my mom, I’m not her and I’m not planning to be. I want to be different, I don’t want to raise my children same way I was raised. It sounds bad as I’m typing this but I don’t agree with some parenting ways my mother used on me and my siblings, and that’s okay because I don’t think we are wired to grow up exactly like our parents.
Mom doesn’t believe in depression and anxiety, or most of the mental health issues. She believes its related to religion, if you are close to god then you won’t be depressed and I don’t agree with that. I don’t blame her, I mean they’ve been raised this way and their era has been nurturing such closed mind mentality. When I was going through postpartum depression, I didn’t talk about it with my family but more with my friends who has same mentality as me and understands these struggles.
I want to be as understanding as I wished my mother to be. I had a long super dark hair till I reached college because my mother didn’t allow me to dye or cut it, let alone just a small trim. I hated it because it was really hard to maintain, it was so long that it reached under my butt. I started trimming it on my own without telling her obviously but I did get caught few times until one day I chopped off all of my hair, and she gave me a look I’ll never forget, like she’s disappointed in me and it made me feel horrible. It didn’t really last long as I tried to make her understand that it’s who I am, I don’t like having dark long hair. She still gives me those looks whenever I dye my hair and repeats about how my hair was so beautiful and long, now it’s ruined and it’s too damaged.
God Knows how much I love my mother and I know I can’t live without her but I don’t want to be like her, I am who I am.