I had an epiphany recently. Just a few days before my twentieth birthday. I did a lot of thinking on that day. So much so that I felt the need to map it out right now and share it with the internet.
I suppose two decades is nothing when you're 80 or a 100, but when you just hit the big two zero mark, you begin to reflect on all the days you can remember from the last twenty years and you realise so much has happened. So many memories. So many days of laughter. So many hours of crying. Just so many things occurred. And to think that those moments will only amount to a small, minuscule fraction of your entire life....I guess what I'm trying to say is that eventually, when you put things into perspective, nothing really matters.
Or maybe it does?
I'm about to get really personal here, so feel free to stop reading if you're not interested.
I've always been an uptight person. I like to have things organised, spices on the racks where they belong. It gets on my nerve if a single dish is left overnight in the sink. Yes, I am that person. And I've never been particularly proud of that aspect of me. I will overthink every situation. I'm an over-thinker. Even as I'm writing this, I'm wondering if you'll find me boring. And because of my anxious personality, I've missed out on many opportunities in life. The almost-relationships because I was scared of letting people close; the many broken friendships because I refused to be the first one to apologise, and many more if I tried to recall.
Already, I've regretted so much; there were so many things I wish I had done or hadn't done. If only I had a time machine, here's a list of things I would change starting from one to infinity.
And that made me ask the bigger question: do I still want to feel like this at 80? When the regrets could have very much multiplied and I would be at my death bed wishing I did this and that.
No. I wouldn't want that at all. And I think everyone can say the same. Sadly even though we can all agree to want a life with no regrets, most of us are still scared to really leave the comfort zone and venture into the unknown. And there really is nothing wrong with feeling afraid. It's a completely rational argument. There's nothing wrong with living a boring life. There's nothing wrong with not wanting to go to that MMA class you've been dying to join for ages because you're intimidated. There's nothing wrong with not wanting to try drugs because you don't want your parents to be disappointed in you. There's nothing wrong with avoiding the gym because you feel self-conscious around steroid-loaded men.
That was always how I would talk myself out of situations I didn't feel comfortable being in.
It's not a crime for wanting to feel safe and secure or for just being extremely ordinary.
But then one day, comfort got boring.
I didn't enjoy staying in all the time. I didn't like being the same person I was three years ago. I was bored because nothing was changing in my life. I used to complain that my friends were changing without me and moan about it all the time, but then I never thought to ask myself, why am I not changing? What's so perfect about the current me that I should stay the exact same way all my life?
Right?
So I started taking risks. Small ones. Then slowly, I was learning to enjoy being in places I would never find myself in.
Like the MMA gym. Or the tattoo parlour.
The latter, especially, that if my parents found out I had stepped foot in, would immediately lose their shits and disown me.
But I walked in anyway. Knowing very well that all the trust my parents had of me was slowly shattering to bits. The needle jabbed and jabbed. And an hour later, I walked out with a mark on my side. An intricate flower that had no meaning, but the significance of the mark didn't lie in its design but rather the reason as to why I walked in there in the first place.
I walked in there not as an act of deviance. I walked in there because I wanted, for once in my life, to start living for myself and not for my parents or for whatever expectations I was being put against. I was walked in there because I was suffering.
To say that I left feeling cured would be a lie. But I did, however, feel stronger. More empowered. Proud. Fucking badass. And just this great sense of relief that I had done this.
For myself.
Months leading up to this great moment of realisation, I suffered from bulimia. And the worst part was that I knew how much it tormented me, yet I let it take over my life. For so long, I couldn't speak to anyone or seek for help because I was so ashamed that I would disappoint or even ruin the image people had of me. I didn't look like the person that would self-harm. I didn't look like someone who would let her insecurities get the better of her. I just didn't look like that and I believed that too.
But who would have thought, an attempt to get in better shape spiralled into an eating disorder and led me to a dark pit of despair and helplessness. Even an uptight 19-year old who looks like she has her life together, actually has nothing at all.
I told myself everyday that if this was truly rock bottom then I can only get better from there. Better days are ahead, and all that motivational jargon.
But it didn't get better because I wasn't doing anything about it. I wasn't changing my mindset. I was still stuck in my old habits of punishing myself if I ate just above my calorie limit.
It was dreadful. Waking up was a pain. Eating felt like breathing in hell. Mirrors only reflected flaws. And there were so many of them.
The problem I realised in that never-ending cycle was that, of course, I landed myself in such a tough place because I wanted to constantly fulfil everybody's expectations. I'm not just talking in terms of body-image, but everything else as well.
I wanted to be skinny because thin bitches were generally more well-liked. I wanted to be top of the class because it made my parents happy. I wanted to be _______ because it _________.
It was as though you could write whatever you want and I would make it happen because I wasn't satisfied with who I was at all.
This is not to say that everybody should go get themselves marked because it will magically solve all your insecurities. But my point is, if you've lived your life so far wishing you had done things differently, then maybe you need to reconsider your priorities because chances are, you're not putting yourself first. It's time to take matter into your own hands. Screw what people think of you. No more self-loathe.
No more regrets.
No more excuses.
No more taking the easy way out.
I'm leaving this as a note to myself. Don't ever look back and question yourself for the decisions you make. Don't look back with regret because you were trying so hard to be somebody else. It's your life now. Take a leap of faith. Live it the way you would live it.
