Reluctant Learner: The Adulthood Of Enduring Younger People
Three people have been needlessly, disproportionately vicious to me today. I’m choosing to take it as a lesson. A lesson in what? Is it possible that I’ve been as reckless and feckless in my actions and words in the past? It is possible. I don’t think I’ve ever been a poisonous, manipulative person. My MO is more to shoot from the hip and ask questions later and that is more a flaw of firepower than poison. Yet, its impact may be just as damaging.
I don’t know if it’s a function of our flawed social systems where older generations never allow the younger ones to grow up. I am not sure if it has to do with being a very hungry nation, even for those of us in the privileged layer. But in our twenties, we are definitely more like wrecking balls of sentiment. Even worse, we are heavy machinery being operated by a short-sighted and drunk/stoned driver. We have no sense of the repercussions of our actions. We have no ability to deal with multiple emotions. And we lack that vital ingredient in a sane life – perspective.
Am I better off now that I’m in my 30s? I can’t say. I’m finding thoughts such as these are surfacing alongside the blind trigger rage responses. Maybe that’s growing up, maybe it’s slowing down. I am also finding I’m tiring of the 20-somethings I find myself around, in my creative as well as my professional circles. They are full of these poisonous situations, at breakneck speed down dangerous pathways. It’s all I can do to get out of the way and not get hit too hard, too much.
I’ve been suffering from a strange ailment this month. Well, that’s not new, is it? This seems to be a year where my body shouts out in languages that it hasn’t so much as bothered to whisper in before. First the recurring cold-cough-fever of January. Then the blinding nausea (yes, that is a thing) that was diagnosed as migraines. And now a voice that’s just GONE. No throatache, no cold, no cough, no fever. I just can’t speak anymore. I open my mouth and a stranger’s voice rattles through my voicebox when it does. If I’ve forced my way through the day with that (performances, classes, webinars), I’m suddenly unable to utter a full word.
It seems fairly obvious to me that this is a call for me to slow down and speak less. I do live a rather vociferous life, after all. So I’ve taken a break from performing and phone calls. I cannot cut out work but I’ve been able to deliver those a lot better since I cut out the first two.
So what now? Let go of people. Let go of situations. Let go of pride. Let go of a sense of justice. Let go of the things I love doing. Let go of speaking. Can you imagine how hard this is for a Cancerian whose first instinct is to hold on, a Leo Rising whose being revolves around expression and talking?
Sigh. Maybe this is not permanent. Perhaps as with the situations that started off this day, there is just a lesson to be learnt before comforts and loves are earned back again. A lesson in letting others live out their crashes. A lesson in not getting hit and run over. Lessons of goodbye. Lessons in silence. Shh.
I’m only beginning to realise how utterly painful – yet completely necessary – it is to say goodbye. I’m going through it right now and it feels like hell, but I figure it can’t be worse than the hell I was already in to begin with. More power to you, Ramya.
@Anu: That’s exactly it. Hugs and all the best to you too, Anu.