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I was angry. All the time. My anger was not directed at anyone in particular. I was not the kind who would take it out on others. My anger was just stagnant, seething and simmering within me, like molten metal in a cauldron.
I was angry. All the time. My anger was not directed at anyone in particular. I was not the kind who would take it out on others. My anger was just stagnant, seething and simmering within me, like molten metal in a cauldron. It showed in my face, in my eyes.
I have had strangers stopping me in my tracks and asking me why I looked so furious. I would just laugh it away. But it was exhausting, draining and dilapidating this state of mind, and I did not know how to deal with it.
All this boiled over to the surface after years of being insecure and helpless. And scared, yes, very scared. In the past, I had people breaching my boundaries, invading my privacy.
I did not have any agency over my life. All this and more made me a social cripple, riddled with anxiety and low esteem.
Then, one day, I broke free from all that. I was free and I am now. I must rightly feel relief, if not happiness. Likewise, I ought to feel gratitude for the support I have been receiving from family and friends. But, I realized all that remained with in me after the trauma was anger.
Why was I angry?
Who was I angry with?
“You might need a closure or at least acknowledgement of what you had gone through,” a few well-meaning friends advised.
“That would make you feel better,” they said. But, deep down, I knew that it did not bother me. I did not, do not, seek apology or reconciliation. I was clear about that part, at least. However, there was something else making me restless and angry all the time.
“Maybe you need to forgive,” said a close friend said.
“I already did that,” I said. It was true. People who hurt me did not know better.
“Have you forgiven yourself?” he asked, and that was the moment I realized where my anger stemmed from.
All through the ordeal, which had lasted for years, I did not stand up for myself. I failed to recognize manipulation and mental abuse. I was blind to oppression. All this despite being well-educated and fairly independent and outgoing.
I had let myself down and never forgave me for that – for lacking a spine, for letting people walk all over me, for letting things go that far, that bad. Not only that, but I need to forgive myself.
Once I knew the fight was within me, I am now slowly moving towards resolution. I am trying to be easy on myself. After all, I did not know better, too. It is definitely not an easy process, but I am taking baby steps towards it, making the self-aware me be less angry, less scathing.
For those of you who are struggling like me, taunting your own past self, I say, “Let her be. She had suffered enough.”
Image source: Still from Manmarziya, edited on CanvaPro
A brief introduction to the writer Sarveswari Saikrishna is a short story writer, currently working towards her MFA Creative Writing degree from Writer’s Village University. Two of her works have appeared in the Literary read more...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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