Before I continue from 9-18, I guess, there’s something more from the zero-nine phase that comes to my mind.
I am told I was a violent kid with loads of anger. I would throw objects, I would be nasty, throw tantrums, but there was one thing I NEVER did – I never tore books. They were unconsciously sacred to me.
It was around 9 and a half years of my age, when I had my ma give birth to my youngest brother. Dad had to shift his focus from me to the one younger to me, what with his bad health, his, the new baby in the family, increasing financial expenses, shortage of space. We have practically spent some 15 years of our life in a single room and another ten in the main room and another rented in some or the other nearby location. Things started changing. I was happy and yet more and more fierce. My studies shot up in terms of scores and performance. Perhaps it was the competitive threat I subconsciously felt from the younger brother, or maybe it was the need for all that attention I missed from parents which was now channelized to the tuitions that dad would give and my youngest brother.
We were living with our aunt and uncle who stayed close by at that juncture in time. So, mostly our food would be cooked together and mom and aunt would take care of the baby, while dad would spend time with both of us. But I do remember that I was very possessive of my baby bro (I still am in some ways) and had fought the whole family once when it came to just a superficial talk of my uncle and aunt(who do not have any children, biological or adopted) adopting the child. I fought tooth and nail, hurt my father physically and made Him write on a paper with a one rupee stamp sticking to it that He would never give away any of his kids.
A childish tantrum though it may seem, the fact displays that I was never an easy to give away kid. I was always fiercely possessive. My younger brother and I had loads of issues between us. We would fight; he would give in or else fight back depending on his mood and the thing/object/privilege in question.
But there was this so prominent trait – We would never let an outsider speak in between. NEVER!!! We would always end up giving that same thing to the other which we’d been nastily fighting about. We’d always hug and apply ointment on the bite marks we’d caused.
But two years after this happened, I heard one of my classmates reciting a poem she’d composed herself and I was suddenly – competitive. I was in grade 6, around 12 and a half, suddenly realizing that if ‘this’ was what writing poetry was about, I could do it so much more better and I started writing. I continued wonderful marks, amazing poems (according to the age I was), played harmonium wonderfully well, leading all choirs in school, sang beautifully at devotional gatherings of up to 1000 people, was a good speaker-debater, orator, interested in art, literature, language, music, academics. Everything was perfect. Except a weird sort of loneliness that was slowly engulfing all of me.
I gradually started drifting away from the world around me, more into my own little corner. I wouldn’t go with other girls in lunch – time, I wouldn’t talk to many people, I anyways didn’t have a huge peer group I had just 3 friends from all grade 7 to grade 10. I would take additional responsibilities in school and yet try to be invisible. All I would care about was, what does my teacher think of me? What do I do? How do I perform? And, whether I am acceptable or not. Without anyone actually telling me that they had expectations from me, I started striving to fulfill expectations I thought they had (perhaps because when I’d be around them they’d talk of me in high terms treating as if I didn’t exist there, not realizing that there was vanity gradually creeping in which I would cover with my modesty). It wasn’t exactly vanity, nor was it purely modesty. It was a bizarre concoction of - being praised, wanting to defend that position, pride creeping in and a full realization to keep that pride toned down, because I knew pride is not a good thing.
And, I feel I missed the true carefree childhood. By an age of 14, my personality started showing deeply disturbing traits (which others either did not notice or else didn’t care to notice). I started showing perfect loner traits. I stopped talking to family about anything I felt/dealt-with in school. I would still talk about events, but never feelings. I would talk about successes, but never about failures. I was on surface same, but deep down more shelled up more withdrawn. I had a world of my own in which I had imaginary elder siblings who’d keep my training in regime, be firm with me, non-patronizing and yet caring and loving. In my imaginary world, I had no parents, my teachers and siblings were same and the education I received was holistic, though some of it I did not like. At the same time what had also changed was my biological development. With hormones in play, physiology changing, my emotions started becoming very pessimistic. My tendency to feel pain and think it was there, only because I deserved it, started growing.
Finally, it started reflecting as a psychosomatic problem in the form of dermatological issues. I started visiting a dermatologist. He treated me for two years, the medicines and steroids in turn causing other side effects, before he finally asked me to visit a psychiatrist. I denied and said that I needed a psychologist. He gave me a counseling session. However, results kept going down as compared to what they always had been, my irritability about my dad teaching my batch mates as a tutor and my feelings of comparison and loneliness kept on constantly increasing. A series of failures started and no one could understand why? Not even myself. I would blame parents, brothers, feel cheated, deprived of basic things like personal space, friendships. The single friend I made in standard 7 did stay my friend thus far.
In grade 11, I opted science with biology and maths as optional subjects only to discover that EVERY student in my class was going to extra tuition other than me. I constantly kept on failing in one or the other term exams and eventually I gave up Mathematics. I decided that I would never want to be an engg so I did not need math and I knew enough math to deal with physics and chemistry. I did not realize that I was closing my options to study physics too.
It was towards the end of the 11th grade and in the second half of my 17th year that I went to a psychiatrist for a project I did in biology and he diagnosed me. Asked me to conduct a meeting with my mother and explained to her that I was suffering from clinical depression, recommended me medication. However at that time, my relationship with my parents was perhaps as strained as it ever could be and it actually continued till an age of 22. My irritability increasing, my violence revealing on objects (thank God, I’ve never really hurt an individual except with words, and yes, I am not proud but I know I can really hurt bad :( ) But so far till 18, which was till I passed grade 12, these circumstances prevailed. Dwindling between successes in my performance in writing, literature and stage, grades dwindled from above average to good. And I passed school, left it with a few awards added to my already huge collection.
The remaining I guess, shall be in the next installment.
Till then,
© anu (Exploring Myself)
