Over the course of 30 odd years and after countless victories and failures, I still am left with the same questions that I started with ever since I had my first conscious thought. Praying has been a ready sanctuary that has allowed me to keep the light of hope burning no matter how faint it is. It was my mum who taught me how to pray and the importance of relying on God for my needs. I will not take you into a discourse about faith but this is a mere description of how I have managed to cope with disappointments.
Yesterday I told you about a particular prayer that I had for the better part of my high school and college years. It was to have a heart of stone. At the time I felt that having a heart of stone would allow me to quell the pain of my internal struggles with my identity and my family's expectations of me, not to mention those of the world. Some prayers are answered, some are not or some say that they are answered but at the right time or in the form that is best for our needs. This particular prayer, however, was granted the way I asked for. When I developed a workable sense of self-worth, I started shutting myself from the rest of the world. This does not mean that I became a recluse. On the contrary, I was and still am quite an outgoing person. However, I seldom let anyone into my world. To some extent, I can be considered a social butterfly but that is only on the surface. I often keep people at a distance, allowing them to know things about me that are essential to the social contract but not the intimate details of my personality. Keeping thoughts to myself is the default mode of being. I mastered this art because in my dealings with different people I often found myself in awkward situations where I unintentionally offend someone with my bluntness. Rather than risking the ire of people, I choose to keep my real thoughts to myself and only air them out when they are asked for or when in conversations with people close to me.
Though not with a shortage of friends, I still find myself by my lonesome on most occasions. At times it is by choice while some are out of circumstance. I have a select number of friends whom I consider as my closest confidants and who I hold dearly in my heart. Having me as a friend I think is an acquired taste. Like food, there are some that we like and those that we don't. There are also those that we haven't tried yet and once we do, we begin liking them and after repeated consumption, we start to truly appreciate them. That is how it is with me. It takes quite a bit of time for me to warm up to people and for them to find a way around my eccentricities. So, when these friends are out living their lives I am left with my thoughts as company. I am far from being adorable and lovable which has made it very difficult for me to make friends and keep them. Those who stay are the ones for keeps and they are few and far in between. Keeping to myself has been an imperative that I could not forego because it is my defence mechanism against the burdens of being alone.
In my silent reverie, I often ask myself how did I become who I am? Will I ever be like everyone else, normal? Am I ever going to fit the roles that have been pre-determined for me? Will there ever be a time when I will finally find a place where I belong?
I have dealt with profound pain from a young age that risking reliving all of them sends shivers down my spine. Instead of playing out in the sun, I was in my room reading books and doing homework. When I'm not, I have to deal with my internal struggles. The choice was always between my thoughts or my books. It is this innate fear of getting hurt again that prompts me constantly to put on my armor and let my heart of stone do the thinking. I just don't want to relive that night when I nearly crossed a line of no return. I just can't. Sadly, the very same thing that is keeping me intact is the same thing that is preventing me from experiencing more of the world through human interaction. The risk is just too great for me that no matter how great the possible rewards are, I still choose to go back inside my shell. It's a lot warmer I guess. I thought that having a heart of stone would spare me from the sorrows of life. It hasn't. Rather, it has opened up more doors and windows through which pain can slip through. I got what I wanted, I just didn't know any better back then that it came with a lot of strings that I wouldn't want to be attached to. But if I regained that childlike innocence I once had, wouldn't it become an open invitation for hurt? Which insanity would you choose?
xoxo
QB
Yesterday I told you about a particular prayer that I had for the better part of my high school and college years. It was to have a heart of stone. At the time I felt that having a heart of stone would allow me to quell the pain of my internal struggles with my identity and my family's expectations of me, not to mention those of the world. Some prayers are answered, some are not or some say that they are answered but at the right time or in the form that is best for our needs. This particular prayer, however, was granted the way I asked for. When I developed a workable sense of self-worth, I started shutting myself from the rest of the world. This does not mean that I became a recluse. On the contrary, I was and still am quite an outgoing person. However, I seldom let anyone into my world. To some extent, I can be considered a social butterfly but that is only on the surface. I often keep people at a distance, allowing them to know things about me that are essential to the social contract but not the intimate details of my personality. Keeping thoughts to myself is the default mode of being. I mastered this art because in my dealings with different people I often found myself in awkward situations where I unintentionally offend someone with my bluntness. Rather than risking the ire of people, I choose to keep my real thoughts to myself and only air them out when they are asked for or when in conversations with people close to me.
Though not with a shortage of friends, I still find myself by my lonesome on most occasions. At times it is by choice while some are out of circumstance. I have a select number of friends whom I consider as my closest confidants and who I hold dearly in my heart. Having me as a friend I think is an acquired taste. Like food, there are some that we like and those that we don't. There are also those that we haven't tried yet and once we do, we begin liking them and after repeated consumption, we start to truly appreciate them. That is how it is with me. It takes quite a bit of time for me to warm up to people and for them to find a way around my eccentricities. So, when these friends are out living their lives I am left with my thoughts as company. I am far from being adorable and lovable which has made it very difficult for me to make friends and keep them. Those who stay are the ones for keeps and they are few and far in between. Keeping to myself has been an imperative that I could not forego because it is my defence mechanism against the burdens of being alone.
In my silent reverie, I often ask myself how did I become who I am? Will I ever be like everyone else, normal? Am I ever going to fit the roles that have been pre-determined for me? Will there ever be a time when I will finally find a place where I belong?
I have dealt with profound pain from a young age that risking reliving all of them sends shivers down my spine. Instead of playing out in the sun, I was in my room reading books and doing homework. When I'm not, I have to deal with my internal struggles. The choice was always between my thoughts or my books. It is this innate fear of getting hurt again that prompts me constantly to put on my armor and let my heart of stone do the thinking. I just don't want to relive that night when I nearly crossed a line of no return. I just can't. Sadly, the very same thing that is keeping me intact is the same thing that is preventing me from experiencing more of the world through human interaction. The risk is just too great for me that no matter how great the possible rewards are, I still choose to go back inside my shell. It's a lot warmer I guess. I thought that having a heart of stone would spare me from the sorrows of life. It hasn't. Rather, it has opened up more doors and windows through which pain can slip through. I got what I wanted, I just didn't know any better back then that it came with a lot of strings that I wouldn't want to be attached to. But if I regained that childlike innocence I once had, wouldn't it become an open invitation for hurt? Which insanity would you choose?
xoxo
QB
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