Withdrawal

I am the kind of person, who needs to write to really know what exactly is running in mind. Things get really hazy when I don’t write for too long. Although I scribbled down incoherent details hastily of how my life is these days in my previous post, there’s still a lot that I missed out; and a lot that happened after it. And to bring it out in proper words seem like quite a task. But I shall try.

Throughout this time, I have been having a sharp transition of perspectives.  I felt bad and I felt miserable; I believed in what I had believed since the first day, but the evidences then compelled me to see what as well seemed pretty much the truth. I fought with people who asserted their judgment on me, and I remained silent. I accepted my vulnerability, and I also overcame it. I have had to make a lot of choices ever since. But it has been quite some time since I’ve stopped telling people my reasons. I only smile now, to whatever theories they propose. When there’s a secret you’ve got to protect, that’s the best you can do. –Yes, it has been over a month, and I still get to receive ‘comments’ and failed-heart-consoling propositions from people who know nothing. Consolations that I don't even need! People around make up things, sometimes I guess to really make me feel good; and sometimes, perhaps, to make themselves. I have all the right to think whatever I wish against or in favor of someone I used to know, but I can’t allow anyone else to speak badly of someone they don’t even know. I have been badly hurt, yes, and I am extremely angry, yes; but I still feel some... Some... I don't know... Some kind of... How do I put it? How do I explain what I feel when I fail to hold up my anger for long? I am essentially not a mean person. I hate it when I see myself failing in holding up my anger for someone who handed me a bouquet of twisted stories and lies, and disappeared without even bidding proper farewell --that's just the tragedy with me; not being able to accept the wrong people can do to your sincerity. But that's my problem, why do people find it so hard to mind their goddamn business?! They would keep asking if I’m OK, which would only remind me that I am not. Hence, the seclusion. I no longer bother about people. I no longer speak to anyone. I absolutely no longer let people talk about it to me. I didn't know I was capable of being rude to people. But then there were many other things of which as well I thought I wasn't capable.

I had my fourth appointment with the doctor just yesterday; he said I’m doing well. Only two more to go and then I’d be done. It has been a long way…

I turned Twenty-One a couple of weeks ago. I was excited and nervous and secretly despairing; but feeling special about my birthday was exceptionally not the deal this year, like I always used to. It feels like yesterday how I used to hold my breath and count the minutes of my birthday only to make sure I thoroughly lived my birth day. Now when I look back, it feels like I’ve come so far, having lost everything behind. I assumed June 19th to feel like… Just another day. Just another day when I would wake up struggling against a shriveling lump in my heart. The plan was to spend the day reading Kahlil Gibran. His writings are out of this world. You would wonder, how a person, perhaps just so ordinary yet too thoughtful, can fathom thoughts so perfectly into ethereal words? Words, those are likely to stay with you for long. But the day did not turn out the way I had thought (like many other things, of course). I couldn’t have the day to myself. I did not know my Chachi and cousins have planned to surprise me with a cake and stuff at midnight; until my mother told me ten minutes before their arrival that they are coming. I was a little disappointed, she ruined my surprise!? But that was because she said "kaheen tum rona nah shuru hojao". I mean... Whatever. So I had to 'act' surprised when they came. It was good anyhow, to see them all screaming happy birthday in my ear. The next day my entire nanihaal (sparing you the pain of reading those long names) landed at our place with a cake (which was heavenly!!!) and just some other ‘party’ stuff. Naani  hugged me, and wished me good health; she said I must make a fresh start this year, and I swear I welled up. Later we went out to the only place that really makes me happy; the beach. I guess it was better that way. Having people around does make it easier. A couple of days later my best friend came home to post-celebrate my birthday. She said she wanted to make this birthday as special for me as she could. How much effort they all put in only to keep our pieces together. My cousins however flew back at the end of my birthday week. They had me engaged long enough to find my way back. But then, they too, left. I’m not going to rant over that though, I had an extremely amazing time with them. In fact, the sole reason why I recovered from my illness was because they were here to help and support me in every possible way. I cried BUCKETS when they left, creating a whole scene at the airport (why does it feel funny now when I replay it in my head?). But it was OK. It was upsetting, but it wasn’t painful, because they weren’t gone.

I also made few new friends on Twitter. The same good people I used to dislike JUST because I saw them through someone else's perspective. They and their lives are opposite of what I was told. It's a pity. You know that feeling, when you see certain contradictory statements unraveling right before your eyes? You are disappointed, angered, despaired. And yet, you can't even go back and throw them in the face. Why? Because not doing that makes you a better person. Knowing that you have a clear conscience is, I tell you, a blessing. 'Cause whether you admit or not, regrets happen to eat your soul. I maintained my limits and was always truthful, that saves my soul. I also resumed interaction with my old followers on Twitter that I had suspended just because I had my priorities sorted, unlike some. It felt good, being back; with my guards multiplied and up.

I discovered few new places with my creepy cousins too. One was this café, Le Grand Coffee Lounge. Somewhere at… I don’t know, Zamzama? Whatever place it was, it was amazing. Too colorful and lively. I don’t particularly like cafés; one reason honestly being that I have never really been to any except for ghisaa pitaa  Gloria Jean’s (I hate their peach iced tea, blekh!) and Dunkin' Donuts (if you feel like counting it as a cafe). This place was good.  I tried their Chicken Lasagna (although that place is particularly famous for its flavored sheesha), and to be fair, it lacked spices and THE LASAGNA taste. Another place that I liked better than Le Grand, was Espresso. They make some delicious chocolate cookies! And Sattar Buksh, a weird place. But incredibly creative. They have a funny menu. Bhinnot Bun Kabab. Badtameez Burger. Topless Besharam Burger. Dehshatgard Pizza. Lol! We also relived our childhood by paying a visit to the only amusement park we loved; Sindbad. That place contains too many, JUST TOO MANY memories! I don’t know when was the last time I was there… We repeated the tradition of taking double rides of every ride available. The Crazy Bus. Dumbo. Log Slide. Dodging Car. DRAGON TRAIN. There are also many new additions. I guess Sindbad is the only place that still sells Polka cup ice-creams. Oh, the childhood joys!
I might as well mention here the damn load of movies I was forced to watch. Prometheus, Lone Survivor, Wolf of the Wall Street, Holiday, Nightmare at the Elm Street, Olympus has Fallen, Her, Iron-Man, Highway and a couple of which I don’t remember. I avoided re-watching Silver Linings Playbook.  I fell in love with Her, and Highway was beautiful. The rest were so boring, so boring, so boring... I don’t even know how boring. But I watched them anyway only because they watched the movies I had suggested. We completed our Friends marathon and re-watched the Hangover Series thrice to soak in as much Allen Garner as we could.  The time really flew by with them, and I didn’t even realize that I am improving.

In another news, I and my family have moved to a new house. It's only been three days. I have spent a major part of my life in there; it was difficult. That place and that time still lingers in my thoughts. All the change had come so suddenly, I didn't know how to deal with it. I realized I am suffering from withdrawal symptoms when I woke up and it took me some time to register that I am no longer on my gray iron bed, in my old lilac painted room. The walls here are painted silver gray. Everything's new, everything has changed, and I don't exactly know how I feel about it. Also, I no longer share room with my brothers. I thought I'd be happy at this. I'm not.

I had conditioned my mind to leave everything behind in that old house. I wasn't ready, but the time had come. So I pretty much knew I would have to bear withdrawal anxiety, when I finally decided to empty my phone memory. Who was I keeping it all for, when I didn't even for once reread the hollow words after cutting off the last link? It was only a prominent reminder which I was saving just because I wasn't willing to let go. I wanted to believe that maybe, some of it, was really true. I just wanted to see the old reflection. They said getting rid of the reminders is the first step of letting go. I took it. I also got myself a hair cut. Although I had decided I wouldn't get a haircut because I was told not to get it cut short. After a year, I've had it anyway. Because really, whose wish was I adhering to? This was another little step. They also said a new place and open air (since this new house is away from the hustle of main city) will make it much easier for me to get my health back and make a new start. Well.

I vented out all my grievances in a letter to Imam Hussain -we call it areeza- which he received on the 15th of Shaban. Awesome, isn't it? My answers, I have faith, will be delivered soon. And ever since, the pain has substantially lessened, but has not really left. I play well in showing that I am improving, it only hurts when I realize that if there is someone who suffered and is still struggling, it is me. The one responsible has walked away absolutely unaffected. It's a shame, how people fix themselves by breaking others. Why?! I get so agitated when I think of it. What wrong did I do? And what difference did my last few words make anyway? Although I muted the tweets and blocked out all profiles and sources that would, even accidentally, update me of the whereabouts. I have never known in all my life of what I must do; but I have always known what I must not. I am good at avoiding stuff that I know will cause me pain. And yet, it at times hurts; mistake me not, it's no more that sacred feeling. For me, love is rooted in respect. I lost it from my heart the day I realized I am being taken as nothing but an option. And this, in reality, is what aches. It is this betrayal that keeps coming back to me. How I had so effortlessly put someone in priority. I trusted. I vowed to support till the end. I made every effort to convince everyone. Against all, I invested my faith in someone.  And what did I get for my goodwill? Except for countless "I told you so" statements from people? -Not even a single appropriate reason. Only a dreary silence. I just never had wished to remember and be remembered as someone who didn't care, or wasn't willing enough, or changed her mind, or backed off. I can never know how I am remembered, neither do I want to find out; dejection falls on me only when I see myself remembering the time and person in it in all the ways I thought I won't. You can't help feeling bad about things that you revered beautiful once, now, can you? People and the words they say to you don't usually turn out the way they seem and are spoken. People and their plans change, once they're out of danger.

It’s not that I am not trying. I am trying harder than I thought I am capable of. It might be easy for others, but it is not for me. I am going to take my time. As much as it requires. I decided not to talk about again; but the truth is, I have never had a blow as sharp as this one, and so I can’t help it. In all this mess, however, one thing was clear; if everyone is saying the same thing, there must be at least some truth in it. It is plain stupidity to ignore the evident and believe in superficial propositions just because you want to. My life was pretty simple. But I guess sometimes despite all our goodwill and good intention, fate wins anyway. Now here I am. Drained, but stronger. Paying visits to hospital. For I don’t even know what. For trusting too much, maybe. For expecting too much. For depending too much. For revering promises way to much. And for a lot of other stuff –the reflection on which I’d keep till the New Year ’s Eve. That would be for the last time I’d ever talk about it --(I haven't completely given up my timing habit).

Also, Ramzan has just begun. One year behind the line, I was a genuinely happy person, looking forward to certain promises. Now I have to put in a certain amount of effort to feel happy. I remember how I was eager to master culinary skills. I have given up on that. I remember how I was changing... And sure enough, I did. Just not the way I had thought. The only good change that happened, was that I started praying regularly. And I thankfully still do. Except that I no longer pray for someone the way I always had. I am not as noble to pray with goodwill even after how awfully someone may break my heart, my trust, my promises and pretty much my every belief. I don't know where the limits are anymore. I don't know, what to believe in anymore. Not even a single day passes by when I don't tell God how much it had ached; not even a single day goes by, when I don't tell Him how I am unable to forgive. He listens.

Anyway. I am trying to get used to here, in my new house. It lacks a terrace, but has an open corridor and a spacious roof top; which means I can still see the sky. I was in a hospital when I checked my emails after quite some time, and I was delighted to see messages from people appreciating Euphoria. I really had no idea so many people actually follow it. It was heart warming, really. I have drafted the final two episodes; it is a tragedy how my Euphoria ended within only five posts... But that is just how it was supposed to be. This place inspires me to write. Too much greenery around; too good a therapy. So I think I'd be writing more often now.

I still have a couple of weeks before my final semester begins. Interesting how only a few months ago I had it all decided, and now I am clueless of what would I do after I'm done with my final semester. I am leaving it on time to decide for me, like it always has.

I am back listening to Keane and Snow Patrol. They are doing wonders for me. Pure nostalgia; which is helping find my lost bits and pieces.

February

Ever since New Year’s Eve, I feel like a lot of time has passed. But it’s just February yet. Why is it that when we want the time to pass quickly, it crawls like a lethargic snail. And when we want it to stop, it flies by in a blink of an eye? A lot has happened in this span of time. Little little events, that somehow forced me back into a shell that I had left after persevere insistence; gradually decreasing the enthusiasm that I had maintained for this year. I seldom get to see any stars at night these days. The magic line seems to have depleted. Few expectations gone wrong, few plans modified, few beliefs altered –and that too just in the beginning of the year that in my Utopia I had marked to be the one which will be the brightest of all the years I have seen so far. Or maybe, it’s just too early for me to pass any such declaration.
 

I don’t know why  Having so much difficulty moving on and worrying about things that are not in my control. I’ve always known I have self-deceptive tendencies. I find it difficult to register painful, almost unreal truths. I go into a state of sharp denial, pretending to be still ignorant; conveniently hiding myself from all the glaring realities. That is one reason why I sleep a lot when upset. Lying under my quilt, I feel safe. Hidden from the world, hidden from my own self. Hidden from the fears that desire to savage me, hidden from my own life that can suddenly pounce on me whenever it would want.

Hidden and invisible.

But for how long…

The lump in my heart is getting heavier. Day by day. But I’m not letting it take the toll on me. Not yet.  I’m not letting it lose as yet. Not unless I know everything. Not unless I earn every single right to set it free and let the pain prevail. Not yet. So as for now, I’m setting about doing all that might provide me with the slightest of joy, which sooner or later I’m sure to miss. A part of me suggests I must take a break from all this thinking. Perhaps I really think too much. But then, I’m also not being helped! The reasons just keep increasing. And then they come looming over me and I lose my touch. I have been blaming myself for thinking too much –losing my appetite in this course –and creating a problem that wasn’t even there. I am doing that no more. I have reasons valid enough to think. And worry. And join the dots to find out what life has in store for me. Last week I went over to stay with my grandmother. Naani. She knows me best. She could see right through me, no matter how normal I try to behave. I kept avoiding eye contact with her the whole time, but in vain. I knew she wouldn’t let it go and honestly, I didn’t want her to let it go either. She asked my mum to let me stay with her tonight. I knew it was time I tell her all that’s been piling up on me. For how long can one bare to handle the fears all alone? She made me sit close and asked me to tell her every single thing that’s been causing me to cry abruptly at about every little thing. You know how some feelings are? Too difficult to be correctly articulated. I finally allowed it to come out in incoherent and broken syllables. She tenderly hugged me when I was finally done. I never knew she could be so understanding about certain matters. The warmth of her motherly embrace somehow healed the brokenness that was aching my soul. All my insecurities were gone for that instance. I felt safe, invisible almost. It was the prime of vulnerability. I was drained and tired; as weak as I could ever be. Helpless. It was the moment I realized I’ve become somebody I was sure I’d never be. An uninterested, desolated, vulnerable person. Few of the possible harsh truths she told me broke my heart. I cried bitterly and she allowed me to empty myself right before her. But she also told me that I must remain positive. That if I’ve made a vow, I must stand by it and cooperate with the troubles somebody could be going through. I must understand the reasons. She told me that I must wait and cling to what I’ve been holding on to since the very beginning. Faith. She told me, “You prayed at every step, didn’t you? So if you believe Lights have guided you up till here, you must know that Lights will guide you further on.”  She held me close and with her hand in my hair, she soothed me to sleep. I chose to rely on what she’d said. I have soaked all of it in. Believing was a choice I made a few months ago. I am not going to abandon it.  My fears however remain, but they have taken a back seat for now.

I guess in my desire of making things great, I am unknowingly ignoring the good that I already have. Perhaps it’s time I refrain just a little from caring too much. It’s time I fight off certain unnecessary fears. It’s high time I return to people who STILL care. A few days ago a friend told me she’s likely to get a brain hemorrhage worrying about me. I am a selfish thankless person. Another concerned friend genuinely looking into my eyes told me I must not take life so seriously…  She is probably right. I must return to being the light happy person that I’ve always been. So here’s the plan. This week, typical desi breakfast at Sufi’s Dhaba it is! *cross*A movie day out and Cream Cheese Pasta party with these girls. *cross* A combine Skype conference with my school mates. *double cross* I am  planning on attending the Sindhi Festival that’d be coming to Karachi in a week or so as well, with a friend who is just the right amount of insane as I am. *final cross* And, I’m also on to cook something for Amma this very month. *a tentative cross*…
I need to do all this before I get buried under heaps of course work. This semester is going to be tough. Like, toughhhhh. And I say that about every semester. No, really, this is tough!!! But it’s better that way, I guess. The busier I’d be, the lesser I’d get to attend to myself and the fears that will eventually find their way back.

I hope to return with a post much happier than this one. Every year at the commencement of a new semester our university organizes a grand book fair. You can find about every book just there and that too at a very reasonable cost. There are two books I am yearning to get my hands on. How It Happened by Shazaf Fatima Haider and The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom. I might mention what a good read they turned out to be, making my next post naturally a pleasant one.

And by the way, I still strongly consider myself blessed. For reasons that from hindsight I can tell I’d be revealing soon enough. 

 ...

I hope not. I hope not.