A few years back, back in 2010-2011 around, I wasn’t this person that I am today. I was scared of everything, I was may be the most immature person you would have ever met. I had that talent in me, of hiding things, of hiding feelings. No one could tell then, not even my friends and family members. Come to think of it, I still have that talent, but I can safely say that I am not that person now, not anymore. I have moved out of that zone, for my own good.
It took me three years? Yes, I am that slow. I spent three years of my life crying and being helpless. I know you’d say, I should have known that no one is going to come and help me. I had to help myself. But I was lost then, and that’s what lost people do, they sulk. I am not saying my life stopped for those four years or so, it moved on very well. I went to school, I completed graduation, I did everything that most people my age did, but something was missing constantly.
I am sorry I am not going to mention what exactly happened, but I can mention three pointers,
A personal trauma relating family issues;
A social change,
And, being thrown into the ocean, when I did not know how to swim. (Metaphorically of course)
Anyways, my life moved on, yes it did, but I did not. I was in complete denial of what was happening. All at once.
Why did I not talk to anyone?
You think, I wouldn’t have? I did, but parents had raised a ‘strong woman’ who wouldn’t need her parents’ help every now and then, and my friend’s, well, they never seem to get me. Partying is more fun, I agree. It was not their fault. Whenever I would sit and want to talk to any one of them about my problems, it seemed they weren’t interested or at least they didn’t get me. And how would they, they weren’t in my position. Instead they felt that I kept repeating my problems, so I just stopped talking, stopped talking about my problems to them, and eventually I just stopped talking to them.
And then I lost all my friends too. I was in no way going to make new friends; I had lost faith in them.
I said them? Oh, sorry, I had lost faith in myself.
So that went on for about some time, and then I realised that my thoughts, my feelings were eating me. I couldn’t contain anything else inside of me now. I had to hold my fist tight, clench my jaws, breathe hard inside, to not to let out anything. And I could not let out anything, believe me, I just could not.
And even if I did, who would take that all in? Who would want to be surrounded by a depressed teen? Sorry, depression is a strong word, I was not depressed, but I was upset beyond means.
And that’s when I realised I had to do something, that’s when I borrowed comfort from a pen, loaned some security from the blank papers, fought for sanity from my own words, from my own feelings.
I am not saying it happened overnight, I am blatantly saying it might have taken me half my youth, but I did it. I came over it. I managed to conquer the harsh feelings my heart bore and I came out the person I am today, the Moushmi you all know.
That’s my story, that’s how I started writing, though blogging is what I started just a few months back. I would love to listen to your views, or better yet, how you started writing? What made you the writer you are today?