If you read my (LONG) post from last week, you know that people that I look up to (parents, mentors) subscribe to this blog. After last week’s post, the list of “people I know in real life that read this blog” has unfortunately gotten longer. And that has been the biggest reason for my absence ( last two blogs posts were for a school project, I wouldn’t count them as blogging). Writing has always been my meditation. 90% of what I have written before this blog never saw the light of day. Which means writing here has been a new, terrifying experience. Since every word I write, I publish. And it gets read. And judged. And I receive feedback in the form of your views, likes and comments. Again, all very new. And terrifying for my fragile self esteem. But to add to that, people that I personally know can now convey their thoughts about my writing to me, very easily. Sometimes in person. Mostly over the apps on my phone. It’s inescapable. And as it turns out I’m not meeting expectations. Something else that is brand new to me. I’ve tried hiding my thoughts from some of these loved ones at one point or another. So giving them an all access pass was not a smart move on my end.
As a result, I went into hiding for the past 3-4 weeks. While I was in hiding I maxed out on videos watched per day. I watched a lot of TED talks about the importance of living life doing what you are passionate about, trying new things and taking big risks. I saw my favourite movies, all surprisingly based on a similar theme. I found myself new heroes. People that gave up the promise of a safe and steady life to do what they loved. Their life is a spontaneous adventure that I had grown up to believe could only end in disaster but doesn’t. Apart from all these amazing and inspiring videos, I also binge watched the first season of the show Sense8 on Netflix. And this one scene caught my attention. I guess it’s the catalyst that led to this post. I won’t ruin much if you intend to watch the show. But this is something that a transgender woman is saying to a gay actor who is having issues with his boyfriend because the actor refuses to come out of the closet. So this woman, Nomi, in Chicago, is counselling (telepathically?) this actor as he sits by himself (Nomi and him are one, so I guess by himself still counts) in an art gallery somewhere in Mexico.
“The real violence, the violence that I realized was unforgivable, is the violence that we do to ourselves when we’re too afraid to be who we really are.”—Nomi, episode nine
Now I know that sounds heavy. My dilemma is hardly substantial enough to deserve that kind of dialogue. But fear (of failing my loved ones and a lot of other things) is keeping me from doing things. Many many things. One of which is to write. Specifically write for this blog. That I paid for ( the .com bit). Because I’m scared that people I know won’t like what they read.
So I’m about to put a halt to the violence that Nomi describes in this amazingly written, but way too over the top for my situation, dialogue. I will resume writing here and some of it may not resonate with everyone. Some of it may not make sense sometimes. “She should write about something more interesting”. But I may want to write posts just for laughs. I may want to write things that sound childish. Things only I find fascinating. Or to vent, because sometimes this life can get super confusing. But I hope you appreciate my honesty when I write what I want to write about. Because it will come from the heart. From me. Remember how much you love me? Now hold onto that feeling.
This blog is about my attempts at figuring life out as a multi cultural millennial. So I’ll try and stick to that theme. That broad broad theme.
PPS: I love you guys. Thanks for always supporting me. This includes everyone. I hope you understand where I am coming from.