BATTLES WITHIN

Battles within!

It was the moment of truth; truth about her life-long inability to take decisions when required, truth about her failings. She had a terrific history in hiding, avoiding and evading moments like this. But, that had to change today! The small voice at the back of head, that had been conveniently and persistently warning her against getting out of her consolation, was now eerily silent. Perhaps, the voice had decided to intimidate her through ‘silent treatment’. She vowed to herself not to think about “Her’; for the umpteenth time she forced herself to think of the presiding task ahead of her. ‘Don’t you think all the people with your condition suffer from indecisiveness and are genuinely vulnerable? Being irresolute is not the end of this world, or Is it? You have survived this far…’ The nasty despairingly conniving voice was back with all its menacing and loathsome, yet allegedly helpful suggestions to retreat and fold herself back in her bubble. She shut her eyes so hard, as if trying to remove all memories of those pitiful moments when she had listened to ‘Her.’

Why have I been a slave to ‘Her?’ Why cant I rationale with ‘Her’ like I do with myself? The Infirmity was real; too real for her to giver herself any credit for her whole life! She had had listened to that small nasty voice that had controlled her.

Disgust and helplessness filled her with a rage she had not felt before, I will not b BULLIED and BELITTLED by YOU!, she screamed to the invisible yet invincible  voice. I have to shut my mind off, I need to relax, I am in charge of my life and I can do whatever I feel confident for, she reassured herself. Her heartbeat was a loud pounding drum in her ears, along with a beep of an annoying siren, which she had always heard when all her senses have been severely compromised due to a panic attack. She could not afford to get devoured by her fears. She reasoned. I need comfort; I need to get away from these noises! She removed her feet from the ugly, muggy couch she was sitting on, hurriedly got up and with a start realised she wasn’t dressed appropriately to go to the kitchen and rummage her fridge to find all the comfort she could. Desperately, she removed her knickers and changed into pyjamas, thrust opened the door and walked into the kitchen. It was a gloomy sight - forlorn cabinets stared at her in dismay as she ignored them and pulled the fridge door viciously, as if afraid her housemates or an invisible hand, just like the invisible voice in her head would stop her. Food had been helping her silently through all those years of anger, regret, guilt and reproach she felt for herself as much as for others. At least it does not judge me, she quieted her conscience mind, as usual. The cool blast of air brought her to present, she pleasantly grabbed bread, honey and peanut butter, warmed her toast on a flat pan, gathered a selection of fruits for her next snack and left kitchen as quietly as a mouse. Surely her housemates should not see her and think about her growing appetite, which was quite visible from her bulging belly under her generously sized pyjamas.

Inside the warmth of her dingy and poorly lit room, she slathered her toasts liberally, smirking at her own shrewdness. She was, once again, successful in changing her focus from her problems to the only available source of dopamine that she was ‘allowed’ in ages. Smiling almost proudly, she opened her laptop, found her favourite show and triumphantly immersed herself in it.

Aleena had been an introvert from her early childhood. Despite being born into a large family, with four other siblings, she had always felt alone and different. She was shy of addressing her feelings and admitting that she rarely feel happy. Her mother had her plate full with house work and fulfilling the needs of a big family, hence she rarely bother bonding with any of her children, although, she inevitably had her favourites. He farher had the damning job to earn for a family of 10, which also includes Aleena’s grand parents and an unemployed uncle. As a result, she was left to her own devices to fight through her dreadful life at the school, where she was bullied for being nerd and for disdaining teacher’s mockery. She could not include her parents in her miseries, she decided it was too much to ask; after all, they had never failed to remind her how hard it was to bring food on the table for 10. And she could not be ungrateful.

More than three decades later, as she started her counselling, Aleena realised she had always felt oppressed and pressured by her parents, siblings, peers, extended family and even so-called friends. Living under enormous responsibility to bear with the expectations of everyone around her, she recalls, at a very tender age of 7, had a grave attitude to undertake more than she must. Consequently, she became a people pleaser, starting from her own family, her classmates and everyone that she would ever meet. Looking back, she would only find strangely overwhelming memories from her past. Sadly, this was just the start for her personality to become a meek, isolated, eager, extremely sensitive and thoughtful person, who could do anything for everyone, but her.

Her introspective and charmers attitude earned her great marks in family, by whom she received more responsibilities and greater burden of expectations, which further diminish her own enjoyments and individuality. She loved to paint, however she was expected to do maths and science instead, to be a doctor. She ‘Had’ to fulfil her parents’ dreams, even though, as she can now reflect, they were not dreams they wanted for her, but for themselves. She aspired to be a writer, stories enchanted her and she had to read her textbooks over and over again to enjoy them and transport herself to the time and place they were written in. She enjoyed writing them too, but she was expected to do better in her subject knowledge, and hence could never show her poems that she had written between the age of 13-16. She would have to lock herself in her room, pretend to read Social studies or science, and keep the mesmerising world of fiction under her books, in case her mother would come in asking her about another chore she wanted her to finish, or to make sure she had prepared her younger siblings for the upcoming class assessments.

No decision was her own, her life was already mapped out for her, yet she didn’t know the directions and had to ask for assistance at every instance there was a twist and turn. Anxiety about her future started to seep inside her slowly, the future that didn’t appeal her, didn’t entice her at all!

Fast-forward ten years, she was unable to become a doctor on part of her illness during her college years, hence she lost all her respect in the family altogether. That had been a turning point in her life; she had no guidance from parents or adults regarding selection of an alternative educational path, making her lose all her self-confidence. She was away from her siblings and out into the real world where everyday was a challenge, every human being she met would leave an imprint. Her university life was almost a haze, where she struggled desperately to fit in with other girls of her batch. Avoiding conflict and making peace came with a huge price at this stage in her life, she was now expected to make assignments for her group members, be present to provide ear for their love life troubles, not to mention preparing presentations that were meant to be a group effort to preparing her ‘friends’ for semester exams.

Outside of University, the physiognomy of her tussles was different; as if personalised each day according to test her patience in a unique way. Diminishing further into her shell, she became quieter and more subdued as she shared her room with four other girls, all from different backgrounds, knowledge and interests than hers. Music and books were her companions, she found more connected to the words of the poetic lyrics than to her environment. Her parents were only interested in her finishing her education to a highest standard, giving little advice on adjustment.

Married into a loveless relation, with a dictator who would not ask, but order, not discuss but impose, not empower but expect, she was forced to make conscious efforts of staying sane everyday. Until, of course, it was no longer possible. Marriage, which usually should be of minds and hearts was a joke in her case. It had been a hasty arrangement, she was in shock upon it months after it happened and could not believe how easily and silently she could transition from one forlorn entity to another! She shared nothing in common with her husband, who was a licensed narcissist as an eldest brother and son in his family. It was now time for her to make peace with her new family of six, including his parents and siblings.

Looking back, she had to admit her poor luck as the real relations she would want to keep, always ended up expecting and demanding just too much, making her heart ache so badly.’ I am a failure!’ The voice would scream at her, begging her to retreat in a corner, eat away all her miseries and avoid confrontations with challenges.  One thing that nagged her from time to time was the fact that despite her all efforts to please everyone, there would always be something she could have done better, more…Why??? Her rational self would realise she could have said ‘No’, as later pointed by her psychiatrist, but the voice reminded her she was too weak to fly solo. She ‘needed’ to submit herself, to compromise, to continue the monotony of a quiet life, where she was only submitting to everyone, not allowed to think about her own free will. Her personal diaries were never written for a month in continuation for the fear of anyone finding them and reading them. There was so much personal that she had to attend to on her own, so much agony to be processed that words would leave her devastated and deprived further. There had been so many nights eh would write after everyone was asleep, for hours, crying to herself and end up going to a fitful sleep, to be woken up next sullen day for more pretence and acting. After all, her new relations were entrusted on her with a new burden of forbearance and there was no room for Failure this time, as reminded constantly by her mother whenever she would talk to her.

They moved to Dubai later on, in an effort to start earning better to fulfil her husband’s limitless responsibilities towards his family, for which she was expected to ‘help’ as well, as if she had married into a list of responsibilities and not to a human being for comfort. This was her fate; bouts of depression would wash over run deeper than ever. Despite being into a different culture altogether, moving from a small city in Pakistan to Dubai was a huge change, yet the demons she had been dealing with all her life never left her. Her peacekeeping attitude, quick resignation to submit to others wishes, as installed keenly during her childhood and early years left her with unparalleled vulnerability and timidness. His family’s wishes were her commands and he was always reminding her of how grateful she must be because she had been given and opportunity to live in a different country where she has ‘no’ obligations to family. Over the years she had learnt the hard way, it was her prime duty to keep a happy face in front of him, because a tired face could mean she is sad, and is ungrateful. Many a times, as she dipped deeper into her depression and insomnia, she failed to keep up with this particular commandment and had to be ‘taught’ again. One mistake, even if it was a misbalance of spices in food, was punishable.

Whatever she earned, was never her own. ‘He’ had given orders regarding distribution of all their financial matters. She was still expected to bring all groceries, cooking, bills, attend to work seven days a week, perform all household chores and her wifely duties without so much as a sigh. They could only afford to share a house with two other couples, after sending a large chunk of their money back home, because ‘his’ family was too nice to her, as they had allowed her to live with her husband and not kept her as a maid. Perhaps she was hired as a maid who could earn and fulfil their needs forever, realisation had struck her too late…

Today, however, it will be different. I have to take charge of my life, now that I can see, everyone has exploited me all my life. She waited patiently for her husband to arrive, dismissing the pleading voice that was now getting smaller as compared to her bubbling rage. As soon as he opened the room, he could sense she looked different. There were piles of washed clothes un touched, the bed unmade, dirty dishes in which she had had peanut butter sandwich was lying helplessly. He almost decided to pounce on her, but refrained as the look on her face was quite subdued yet fierce, a look he wasn’t used to seeing on her. Before he could open his mouth, she heard herself telling him: YOU HAVE TO LEAVE, NOW!

Shock and an unnatural thunderbolt registered his face, suffocating him instantly - perhaps the same way he had made her feel all through the ten years they had been together. He was a certified egocentric all his life, and never in a million years could he believe she could muster up courage to get out of their terrible relationship. Had he missed something? The answer laughed in his face, as he stepped towards her with any ugly notion. She had her phone in her hands and showed, from the distance, the number already dialled, under her thumb, of police and emergency services. The bitch had planned this!. He stopped abruptly, weighing his options and heard her saying: ‘do not move one step forward, I have enough proof to make them see where you belong, it will destroy you and your family.’

As she finished her sentence, she could sense sweat dripping in her underarms, into her kimono. Her throat was parched, she felt as if her legs would give away at any point. The neighbours next door were suspiciously quiet, perhaps trying to listen to this unusual exchange through the paper-thin walls. They had always listened to him bellowing and commanding, or of course, teaching her a few lessons when she needed them. They were her secret bearers, there was a silent commitment between them, and almost as if they had a pact; whenever she feel she could not take it any longer, she could count on them. She said a quick prayer, and moved back towards the opposite end of the room, as if preparing herself to give the extra seconds that she will require to push the Call button. There was a slight chance she wouldn’t be given an opportunity, but she had prepared her lungs to scream as loud as she can, in case he lunged for her.

The determined look on her face was a surprise, an unpleasant one. He was wired to boss around, to order and to be listened to. Something did not feel right. The other were in the house, it was impossible for him to have his way at this moment. He cursed her under his breath and banged the door behind him.

Had it been this easy all along? She asked herself out loud, unable to stop shivering from the rush of emotions. Last eight months of writing her plan, of determinedly thinking about pulling through This Day had worked! Or may be it was just her fate, at her side for once? Whatever it was, she was free! She had to set her measures, make her imprints, but that was all further along. Today, she was free and could ‘want’ anything for herself.