Hello friend, it’s been a while.
My mind has been crowded with plenty of unwanted visitors who can’t take a hint to save their (my) life. Anxiety has been jittering about everywhere, spilling coffee on nice white shirts and tripping over her words. Depression on the other hand sets up camp in the middle of the room, a nuisance you have to pass through, her unwashed hair, bloodshot eyes, and stench causing everyone in the immediate vicinity to shrink away. Rage has also been stomping about. Her face has been red and her breath biting hot. She is a ticking time bomb that explodes at the people she loves the most.
In the aftermath of that, I’ve been doing some general cleaning. Between the cracks and the mess, I’ve found some interesting bits. This is my feeble (and clumsy) attempt at showcasing them.
I am just a little scientist. I am in continuous pursuit of discovering parts of my inner self through different experiments and hypothesis testing. I remember reading somewhere that humans love to test the strength of something by figuring out how it breaks. I know what breaking feels like, this is me exploring that.
Recent Discoveries About Myself
I am mildly terrified of heights. I was not terrified enough that I would say no to my friends inviting me for rock climbing, but terrified enough that after a certain height, I could feel myself shake and my back getting cold. It’s when I lose my grip and I let myself fall. Terrified enough that if I watch my friend climb too high up, my limbs start to shake and my hand gets clammy.
I didn’t think you could have new fears at 27. It seems the human experience doesn’t stop until you’re dead.
I don’t like witnessing drama unfold in real-time. I do like the aftermath when people can laugh at the absurdity of the situation and see the silliness of it all. Side note: It’s impossible to avoid drama unfolding in real-time when you participate in human relationships. Thankfully you can always debrief with a warm drink.
All the poetry I write will at some point become confessional. It doesn’t matter the theme or the prompt or how I begin. I will twist and turn and inevitably confess with my heart served on a plate for your examination. I think it may be my favorite flavor of poetry.
I am terrified that I can’t write anything as good as what I’ve already written, or worse, that I will not be able to improve my writing. I will be stuck in a place of almost good but nothing note-worthy. Confession: this is why I’m writing a list instead of an actual essay or letter. I am using this as permission to write whatever. I’m too tired for judgment and the best way to get better is to keep doing things even if you’re doing it badly.
Unprovoked panic attacks are a thing. I’ve had my first bout of it recently and the terror that zapped inside my body because I couldn’t figure out the trigger for it was a no-good-very-bad feeling, -1/10 would not recommend. Thankfully I had help from the beautiful fae creatures I call friends who made sure I could get back inside myself. (Friends I recommend though, 1000/10)
Sometimes ghosts can haunt you. Sometimes you can haunt them. Sometimes you can haunt yourself.
I’ve recently been asked about my regrets. I know I’m in a bad headspace when there’s a list. And this one felt a bit hefty.
In the wise words of Taylor Swift, “old habits die screaming,” and what a scream they have produced. I’ve had a conversation with a friend who reminded me that I do not have to be vulnerable around people who do not reciprocate the same vulnerability. A logical and yet foreign concept for me since I always feel a certain level of obligation to make everyone feel comfortable and at ease, even at the expense of myself. Getting comfortable with other people’s discomfort has my insides screaming.
Extroversion and introversion is a spectrum that I like to run circles around. I have a higher social battery than the common introvert, but I also feel the drain of too many social engagements piled on top of each other. I really just need to figure out the balance of this whole thing. It is a work in progress since my calendar is still very much overbooked.
Friendship is the balm that cools the burnt-up parts of me. Every single time I’ve gone insane in the past 2 months, I’ve had friends pull me out of it to keep me grounded. I cannot stress the importance of good friends in my life. I love them with every cell in my body.
I really like chaos. I grew up with it and its constantly changing tides and all its messes. The visitors come because of it. I’m learning to accept that they will visit again.
I hope you do little experiments yourself.
Dhan
P.S. Might limit this newsletter to once a month instead of a weekly thing :)
You somehow mange to write exactly what I need when I need it. You are a fairy-poet <3
This is so cute Dhan!