I have gathered the courage to pick up the tools to write after a long gap of close to five months. Writing; is something which gives me a sense of myself, helps me release unwarranted thoughts and emotions, and gives me peace and happiness. I couldn't do it because I have been rejecting the whole of me for the past eight to nine months and finally lost the will to write as well a few months back…
What do I mean when I say ‘rejecting the whole of me?’
- I was constantly unhappy with my physical health. Even after seeing multiple doctors, healers, etc… I wasn’t getting any breakthroughs in improvement or a direction which would lead me to get better. Since it wasn't anything life-threatening, apart from a whole lot of discomfort for me on a daily basis, the world did not stop around me. Rejection number 1, when I began despising this aspect of myself and trying to prove myself in other aspects.
- On occasions, there were also signs of deep distress within me for no reason. Rejection number 2, when I kept seeking attention from outside to distract myself from this state.
For the past few years, I had worked hard to improve my skills to do better in life as a whole. Whether it was physical fitness or mental well-being. I could not accept the fact that I was being hit in these two major areas. I kept moving ahead unaware of what these rejections are going to teach me later on.
About six months back, the ignored health aspect and non-acceptance from me led to a few days spent in the hospital after undergoing surgery. The world still did not stop around me. I had no option but to slow down. With the physical slow-down also came the mental breakdowns. The episodes of distress began to increase and I began losing interest in things I usually enjoyed doing and even in people I liked being around. I still rejected the state as I couldn’t believe it was me. Changed my location thinking that’s what I need. Along came a freak accident with a few more days spent in the hospital with the inability to go to the washroom even on my own. I was recovering to get normal physical movement when drastically reduced electrolytes levels placed me in the hospital again for a few more days. And this was it! This is when I gave up. Not in acceptance but in complete rejection that this isn’t me and this is not the life I am going to live! I became a talking, walking, frowning zombie. It took weeks to return to walking and doing my daily chores on my own. It took a month or two to start comprehending the regular things going on around me. The confident, driven, aspirational person I believed I had become was nowhere to be found. I also stopped looking for that person. Needless to say, work also took a hit. I have been in a survival mode, with most days not even the will to survive.
Forward to today. What happened to me one would ask. I believe, in this journey to living a full and complete life seeking adventures, not settling for less, only if had accepted that within me there is and always be more to learn, more to heal, more to love, more to let go and it is imperfect and always be till I am alive. I would have easily and quickly accepted the signs which needed me to slow down, to take a look again, I wouldn’t have been layering it and moving on with ignorance. Rather than polishing the wounds, I would have been healing them or seeking help.
It took three back to back visits to the hospitals, and prolonged mental agony that made me realize that acceptance of what is going on right now is the key to thriving.
The bud in the barren months: When I did accept a part of myself! This too happened in the past few months itself. I have been chemically straightening my hair for the past decade or so. I had forgotten what my original hair really looks and feels like. With every few inches of new hair growth, I would rush to get the touch up done. I did not want to lose the idea of perfect hair. After all, it was easily manageable, looked effortlessly chic and was loved by all. This was the image I had maintained of myself and I would do anything to keep it up. What I kept nipping in the bud was the amount of pain it caused me. The pain of spending a butt load of money for the touch-up every six months, the pain of losing the health of my hair with every touch-up, the unbelievable hair fall and the much advanced greying of hair according to my age. How and why did I begin this journey of chemical treatment? The idea to live up to an unreasonable standard of beauty! That's it, that was the reason. I did not accept that I am beautiful as I am. Perfection is not beautiful. It was more self-harming than fulfilling. It was getting exhausting mentally with each touchup sitting. With the advice of a great hairstylist (hair whisperer as I call her), I finally decided to stop doing the chemical treatments anymore and chopped off my ‘perfect’ long hair to let grow the original hair. I wanted to accept my hair as it is. Not just accept, love it. And so I did! The painful months of looking dishevelled with new locks growing, seeing myself differently, my original hair now has grown and grown beautifully. I have lovely curls at the tips and the health on my scalp has returned. Every time I look in the mirror I feel grateful to have taken the decision to accept an important part of me as it is. The surprising bit is, that no one looks at me differently as I have changed an important part of my appearance. I realized I had the image of ‘perfection’ only in my own head. As I wholly accept this part of me, the world around me accepts it gracefully as well.
I am wishing for this pattern of acceptance which I could create in a seemingly insignificant detail of myself, would also replicate in other aspects of me. With acceptance, the ease of handling situations would certainly get better.
No one comes to save us when we are down and out. Why not I, myself save me, with complete acceptance of who I am and not an idea of who I am.
