Mess To Message!

It was the most fatal decision I had to take. My biggest fear was facing me with open jaws waiting to devour me and swallow the shreds of courage which were weakly stringing my broken heart together.

Everything including what I stood for all my life was in mess. A mess which was difficult to put together. It’s not that I did not make attempts to clear the dark thicket.

The chaos around me and within me was gnawing at me bit by bit, draining me of all the energy. Anxiety was a merciless bitch dragging me down to my knees. This disarray took away many who could not withstand the unannounced storms and left some on the shore every time the wave receded with a leaf or a shell or a paper boat to float upon.

Years of compromise and sadness grew like a monster within me. My mind wanted to escape, it started giving me ways to end it all. “Hanging is the fastest way to go,” it said ... “you will suffer only for a few minutes and poof... you’re gone.”

I addressed a note to the one I thought was necessary on WhatsApp, it’s different these days you don’t have to move much...maybe a shift could have changed the hovering thought... but the dichotomy of technology which is responsible for the drifting away is also useful for connecting when it is needed, wherever or however you may be.

You dump yourself in one little corner with a charged mobile phone even when you are the one discharged, and you are sorted... everything is at your fingertips.

But unfortunately, love still manages to evade us. You may get chat buddies for a company in your lonesome time or you may get distracted by some meaningless stories and games. You may watch bigger problems in the goddamn world by listening to stressed politicians or economists and say mine is still too small. For a short while, you feel the sadistic relief. You may even get a pseudo lift of confidence by counting the number of likes on your posts ... but your heart knows the lies you tell yourself and they tell you.

A small thought escapes my mind, why not think it over? Fear is good sometimes...what if after dying I am still around? What if I want to be with the one I am holding up for and I can’t be? What if it’s more suffocating out there than in here?

I kept ruminating and realized over the years I have done this several times and then moved on to creating more mess for myself and others by hanging in there and not taking the impending decisions. Blaming past and others or cribbing to strangers and people I thought could have taken me out of it, consuming the firewater or popping the pills which ended up consuming me or simply escaping to godforsaken places in the name of goddamned reasons.

The terrible coping mechanisms kept me going until today when I realize it was me all along....no one but me. I could have been strong for me. But what is the point of revisiting past anyways it’s gone... parents like the hard-pressed companies cannot promise after sale services to their daughters and we can’t blame them, aren’t they going through the same shit?

What if I start over and find some hope and meaning in life? What if I get lost in making a living and waste the rest of my life?

What if I do just fine and sit peacefully in the evening with less but real friends?

What if in making my life I ruin this little life depending on me?

What if I live like this and send out a message of 'suffer or die' but 'never-make-it', to this little one watching me?

What if despite all efforts I never make it?

What if I end up depending on people I don’t want to be dependent on? Else the little faith of someone out there praying and loving me will also die... getting humiliated every day here is better than getting cornered or looked down upon by those I called home in the vulnerable childhood ...isn’t it? Will I be able to take it?

What if I again sit back and watch the drama of me as a victim and then a perpetrator and then a victim again .... after two decades of waiting for things to turn around?

What if it’s another of those damn astrological nonsense messing up with my mind?

What if I cannot take care of myself? Hasn’t depression wrecked me enough by now?

So why not just escape for real?

What is real?

I prayed to almost every saint, every angel I was introduced to ... every god in every religion knows me by now. What did I pray for? Freedom? Love? Respect? Or just relief from this constant pain in my heart? I guess for it all.

But now I have started challenging their existence or rather mine?

What will the world that looks up to me and my work feel or say about me?

The voice inside me laughed sarcastically ... “the world forgets ... care only about those who will stand around your dead body with tears in their eyes in the end...”

But am I not supposed to be perfect? ... I am in the job of making others see the light, I asked?

The voice inside me again mocked my lame reasons... “Haven’t you heard of a cardiologist getting a cardiac arrest ... a broken vessel is the conduit for light to travel...you can still see yourself in a broken mirror, can't you?

My mind started building a list ... you need to break the shell of the coconut to drink the sweet, nourishing water ... you need to break the awkward silence to save a relationship and sometimes to save yourself.

Yes! I said aloud, “broken crayons can still color.” My second-grade teacher’s voice echoed in my mind ... she often screamed at some of us who would stop coloring until we had the perfect set of pastels with us... she would say, “you are spoiled brats, you know even your crayons won’t color on smooth and glazed surfaces...”

Yes, my mind now understands what she meant, learn to paint on the rough patches with broken colors, that’s art. Don’t wait for it all to be too perfect. Giving up is not an option ever.

The mess has a way to get messier and I might lose my mind.

So, here I take the decision now. I have one primary dependent and that’s me. I have and I can take care of this one.

I will not run away from the life of those who need me. I will rather show them to live it right and for the fair intents.

Not for material and fake securities but for the respect and love that you deserve.

It’s never too late to be you again.

My little one sees me alive is more important than he sees me around all the time.

And this decision might ruin me or might make me who knows?

Ruin! Ha! Am I not in it already?

Maybe God wants me to act and not lean on so he’s playing the hide and seek with me.

If the death has to come, why not on my terms not when I am deadbeat but when I am whole?
After I have exhausted all options.

Yes, the toughest decision of my life would be to not wake up and sleep beside my little one every single day and maybe the time with him will be rationed and contractual and I will crave for seeing him grow the way I wanted to... I could take a truckload of pain for this one smile. But now I am underneath it and he is watching.

My agreement to go on suffering and do nothing will probably make him complacent in his journey. My decisions to choose not to suffer would probably be his later. My choice to love me may make him love himself too... my one decision to stand up for myself in the face of despair and hopelessness may one day make him not want to escape the losses of life and confront bravely. My resolve to give happiness another attempt may make him see beyond destiny and believe in karma. Creating the new cause rather than burning in the hell of the past.

May be by releasing it all my heart will be open to forgiveness for those I called my own. To rebuild it needs to break down. Isn't it?

My decision of ending my life now will rip my little one off the one thing that keeps us alive in this realm, hope.

And maybe my choice of defying what his little mind wants right now be forgiven when he will read this message I received in my mess.