Losing Myself

Written by: Nadrah

Hi, it’s me again. After months.

At each starting point, I got jittery thinking about how I’d do this. About how I’d present these thoughts that have been pacing back and forth, rewinding themselves like a broken record.

I have gone through all of them in my head, again and again.

And then came the moment to finally pen them down, or to materialize them.

I got paralyzed.

Suddenly, all these thoughts that I had been mentally organizing just scattered themselves all over again, and didn’t seem to make sense at all. They become just another fleeting mess in my mind.

Nothing came out right. Nothing translated as well as it did in my head. Nothing did justice to my thoughts. Or so I thought.

So I put it on hold, for just another day.

And then another day, until slowly the days become months,  almost a year.

It became so bad–I kept missing deadlines. Pushing them further and further away. Requesting extensions. And the neurotic perfectionist in me just kept feeling bad every single time, because I never used to miss deadlines. I meet them. Sometimes even early.

I used to keep my place organized and tidy. I had systems for my bookshelves and my CD collections back when I was younger. I’d have daily checklists which I’d finish by the end of the day, and a perfectly tidied workspace for a clutter-free mind before tomorrow came.

These days, I spend my days thinking about productivity and how to be productive instead of actually being productive. I sit and stare at my somewhat organized bookshelves and go through all the titles, considering which would be a good book to read, but never actually getting around to reading.

Sometimes I literally just lay in bed, mentally listing all the things I should be doing, debating about how I should be doing them, perfecting them in my head only to realize I’ve spent hours just on the bed debating with myself. Crushing my own confidence and loathing myself for yet another hour passed without having done anything. And answering my toddler’s never-ending “whys” in between.

So many dreams and ideas, so little effort. And a whole lot of losing my sense of self.

So what went wrong?

One day, I was reading an article on Facebook about this same thought pattern. I remember sharing it and getting a whole lot of feedback from friends who could relate to it. We all thought we were going through this alone, only to find out we were not.

See, I used to love writing poetry and performing spoken word. But even that freaks me out now.

I used to love expressing myself through art. But now just the thought of producing something is daunting!

But then I remember I was missing the whole point. My facilitator used to remind me that it is not about the product, but about the process itself. She told me “to not be disheartened if you are not skilled at arts,” which I’m not.

Because life is not about the destination, it is about the journey.

And I invite all of you to follow through my journey of finding myself again as I embark on a self-imposed journey of weekly expressive art-ivities, and how I try to make sense of all of this.

This is me, wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Love and Light,

Nadrah.