This has been a terrible and harrowing week for me. It’s a bit difficult to describe what exactly happened without revealing who was involved in it but to put it mildly, this was the week when I found out what people whom I loved and trusted really thought of me.
To put it mildly, after years of trying hard, after years of trusting and wanting to make it work – it all sort of collapsed last Sunday. The emotions were a bit of a roller coaster, I switched between raw anger to despondency within a week. The first few days were the most awful, a kind of numbness descended upon me – I felt nothing and yet I dissolved into tears at the drop of a hat.
You know, I can handle anger and I can handle emo-ness. But sadness, betrayal – these are difficult things for me to digest. While emo-ness leads to lovely writing, sadness just gives me an emptiness that makes it so difficult to do anything, from writing to even eating.
It’s an awful thing, betrayal. I feel empty and I feel worthless. Despite my family and my friends assuring me constantly, they love me for me, that I am special for me – I cannot help but wonder, is there something wrong with me? What is it about me that is so bad that someone would do something like that?
And if you know me, one small event can lead to me assessing everything as though it’s turning into a huge catastrophe. What? Dinner reservations are full? Death is next, I suppose.
Eizwan could not stand to see me feel this way, moping and staring into space. Immediately, he insisted on taking me away for the weekend as a means to recuperate. I was not keen at first, I don’t do spontaneous, especially if said spontaneous item means spending a lot of money – but for once, I relented. The trip was good when I was there, but as soon as I returned, so did the burden and the sadness.
This week, after years of learning to get over the insecurities, the insecurities came back full fore. What was it about me that it was alright to treat me like I’m worthless? That my respect and love for them, so insignificant that it did not matter if it was tossed aside?
The time away was filled with retrospection. I spent a lot of time trying to understand what is it about me, what was it about me that is so different that people justify hurting me just for being different? You may think I’m exaggerating but over the years, the most hurtful of insults were that I’m different, that I needed to learn to be a bit more Malay and this time was no different.
Sometimes, I feel that if I could change to fit in and be accepted – I would do it. But I can’t. I am what I am. If I can’t appreciate glass crystals and handbags but adore Daleks, that is who I am. If I am not someone who is obsessed with having a dream wedding – that’s just who I am. If I do not want to be a mother anytime soon, I don’t squeal when I see children, well, that’s just who I am.
Somehow, all these combined make me a terrible person and someone less worthy of respect. It hurts so much because despite the flaws I see in them, I willed myself not to see it because I believed in them. I’ve defended them over and over and for me to be pushed aside – is it me?
The Librarian told me not to be silly, as far as she’s concerned, she sees me as loving, caring and nice and that if people are determined to find flaws with me, there is nothing I can do to change the way they feel about me. I should not allow them to make me feel that way.
But I can’t help it. I feel stupid, so so stupid for trusting them, for trying to love them, for wanting all of this to work out. I feel so hurt that whatever effort I put in, was never good enough. I should have known, I should have listened to my brain, instead I listened to my heart.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. What I do know right now is that I’m not going to change. This is who I am, that is not going to change.
I’ll get over this soon enough and soon I’ll be back to the old me, posting up silly stories. I’ve been through worse, I’ve been through hard times and as the famous poem goes, my head may be bloodied, but it’s unbowed.
‘…I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.’