I grew up as a shy, introverted person who enjoys silence and solitude. Too much social interaction and noise make me sick. I don’t approach people for friendship but don’t like being left out or abandoned by society. Though I never had many friends to play with, I was happy and contented with my life. My mom was my closest confidante in childhood; there were only two girls in my class who knew everything about me. I also had a diary where I could write/talk about the things on my mind.
After moving out, life has changed in many aspects: no more school going kid, can’t meet childhood friends regularly, detached from parents due to differences of opinion.
I have my own problems, like work stress and low self-esteem. I try to act strong and independent, but sometimes I just want someone to share ice cream with me at 2 a.m. and lend me a shoulder to lean on. My anxiety comes from feeling like I’m not doing justice to myself, which haunts me without any clear solution.
I used to confide in my elder sibling about my problems, but now she has greater issues of her own. Sometimes it feels like she doesn’t understand what I’m going through because our problems are so different; you can’t compare being homeless and jobless with hating your small dark room or disliking your daily food options.
When I talk to her about what’s bothering me, she tries to console me by comparing our lives and telling me that mine is better than hers – which isn’t helpful or comforting for either of us. So instead of continuing this cycle, I’ve stopped sharing my struggles with her altogether.
My mom’s happy if I have a decent job, and dad’s happy if I can earn enough to offer my family luxury. Who doesn’t want to be rich? Money can’t buy everything, but it can make my hairline come back, my skin flawless, get me some followers, and do many other things. My objective is to find balance between work and life. Unfortunately, my parents don’t understand this idea. I need time for myself – to read a novel, visit a café or travel – which may not be possible with a 9-to-5 job. Last week I had an argument with my father about this; he thinks that I’m spending too much while earning very little. His words upset me for the whole week as living in a metro city is more expensive than where we used to live before. The best thing I could do was reduce visits home since one trip costs around half of a month’s salary – too much to bear! They just don’t understand my situation so now instead of explaining myself over and over again, I remain silent and cry myself to sleep wondering how things could be better for all of us without any accusations on me.
My friends think I’m being dramatic. Some suggest I need a boyfriend, while others label me a hopeless fool who can’t make decisions for myself. Negative Facebook posts have attracted clueless well-wishers. Talking about my problems with people who can’t help or support me feels pointless and frustrating – like crying into a pillow. At least with the pillow, I don’t expect anything in return from an inanimate object. Sometimes, all I want is to hide away in a cupboard for a while…
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