One

601 words

Encouraged by a friend, I wanted to record a video of me talking about this and that; it wasn’t supposed to be all that serious, just fun and games. I recorded many takes, one of which was noisy, one was pointed but politically incorrect, and another was longish. Eventually, unhappy with each take, I deleted all of them.

However, in each of them I spoke about my struggles with low self-esteem, my impostor syndrome which constantly makes me feel like I don’t belong, and how I have been trying to deal with all of it. My low self-esteem also extends to my body and I am trying to be comfortable with it fully aware that I am not the first woman on this planet to feel this way. Although, the video did not see light of day, I want to write about these things.

I’ve also noticed the long breaks between my writing, and that on weekends when I have time to myself, I find that all my feelings from the week tend to catch up with me. It’s almost as if the weight of the week lifts off, there’s space to breathe, and in they come rushing. Between all of this, the writing in itself is slow and accumulated of all the grime of the past. What I have lacked in terms of creativity or deep breathing, I have made up for in organisation and time management. I am an extremely productive work horse (screw you capitalism). So I have decided to take all my organisational skills and put them to use where it matters.

I am going to start small.

On this blog, I will keep it small but steady. 14 days of writing every day about this and that. So what if I can’t record a video, I suppose I can write about this and that. Short, steady, and hopefully a chaotic chiaroscuro.

Day 1 Updates

Read 66 pages of a novel I had abandoned earlier during the year. Time seemed to have elongated in those 45 minutes and a new world opened up with a window into Athens, where the novel is set. Was reminded of the myth which tells how Athens got its name. Slept in the afternoon and dreamt of the entire house being flooded with water, and I was shouting to keep mother away from harm. Then, after the floating trash and goo came closer, with a sudden whoosh the water drained out of the clogged toilet. Woke up with a heavy head but rested body, and looked up whether fresh ginger or dry ginger is better for tea. Had bought some fresh ginger from the bazaar in the morning; used it in making a cup of tea for myself. Drank it with the silence, a single slice of toast, and the outside plants looking in. Calculated how many pages of the book are left and how much time it will take to finish, made some notes, forgot to curse capitalism having done so earlier in the morning, and lit the fairy lights nestled inside a glass bottle. Fear came and went away. Dreams were preceded by a mental map of what a cosy cafe looks like, of an image of me running said cosy cafe, glass doors, Moroccan tiles, creepers tumbling downwards from the ceiling, coffee and tea on offer, a space to keep umbrellas. At night, made myself the promise of a 14 day writing routine on a whim, and then went into it with whatever I had.