What shaped me
definitely did not shape you
I
used to be very comfortable being in my own skin, until some people told me
that I should follow what they think is right due to fear of the Greater power.
I
used to think that becoming pious is a process, a journey that one should make
to reach purity and finally being able to leave behind this material world
before entering the next level.
Being the second kid of five siblings, I
have heard that the second child could end up being the rebel in the family. I
did not believe that until I see where I am today. In fact, I am not just a
rebel in my family but also a rebel against the system, which I do not feel
that I belong to anymore.
While
growing up, I have been exposed to my origin, my culture, my beliefs, and the
values that come with them. It seemed that I was swimming along with the
current, taking me upstream, or downstream, which I have yet to experience
because the end of the stream has not yet to be seen.
However,
at some point of my life, I began to develop my own sense of being and my own
sense of belonging. It was a hard struggle. It started when I was at my
secondary school. As I entered this world of elite students, who are supposed
to be the smart kids and the ones who are above average.
All
teenagers in this world will go through this phase where they question their
existence and try to connect to the greater being. At the same time, the
struggle to do well in academics and the desperation to be accepted by their
peers and cliques seem to be a never-ending pursuit.
As
I tried to fit in, it became clearer to me that I could not fit in. What
excites my peers didn’t excites me. What was meaningful to them doesn’t make
sense to me. I withdrew myself to the most hidden corner and the only best
friend I had was I. A few friends who seemed to be out-casted and marginalised
for reasons I don’t know and cannot be bothered visited me from time to time
but I had never felt their true intention to be my friend because it never
occurred to me that I am that cool kid that my peers would like to hang out
with. I did not feel the need to proof myself to anyone except myself and that
was the hardest thing to do.
However,
I was a bit sad because I thought the teachers did not notice me at all. I do
not remember any of my teachers come close to me and try to ask more than my
name. I did not know how to please them and did not know how to attract their
attention. In the end, I just gave up. Nevertheless, I managed to find my way
by tagging along with my friends who would like to see the teachers. In my
mind, they are so great! They give knowledge. It is as if they are next to God.
Hmm, maybe I over-imagined them. Well, imagination could run wild you know ; ).
On the other hand, maybe it is plain to see that I have no confidence. Why? I
have no answers.
I
do remember a few incidents that lead me to my painful heart breaking
experience. I love all my teachers even though I never shower them with any
presents. I might have done to a few, such gesture I do recall anymore. There
are a few incidents that I have overviews from time to time. For instance, I
love my Geography teachers. They are the few ones whom I looked up to and really
admired. However, they misunderstood my intention. For me to memorize better, I
drew and made sketches in my Geography exercise books. I loved them. I loved
looking at them and reading them. It was like an art collection apart from the
knowledge scribbled in them. One day we were asked to submit our exercise books
to be checked. A few days later, I was called by my teacher. I wondered why. My
heart beat so fast, faster than the bullet train in France! I was told that my
exercise book, the one that I was so proud of, did not please her. She told me
never to have such “art work” in my exercise book again. How encouraging was
that? I find that a supress to my talent and I began to hate the subject.
In
another incident, I guess I was around 14 or 15, or maybe 14 and a half. I had
already promised my girlfriend to accompany her home for the weekend. It was
something I looked forward to and my heart leaped joyfully imagining the day I
could escape the routine of boarding school. Later that week, our Geography
teacher, “out of the blue”, told us that she decided to have extra class with
us on the weekend, which I would not be around. I was like, “WHAT???? I had
PLAN!!!!” My plan didn’t come from nowhere. This was a carefully planned plan!
How could she do this to me? Her plan came out of nowhere. Since I have given
my word, I asked one of my classmates to inform her of my absenteeism. On
Monday, I went to meet her to apologize. Instead of excusing me for being a
friend of her word, my teacher accused me of neglecting my studies and giving
more priority to my social life. How can a teacher say such thing? She mocked
my good character just because I kept my word and wanting to apologize? She was
the one who did not respect my plan. That was the second big blow, which
shattered my self-esteem. I totally lost my respect for her. I didn’t enjoy
Geography and I suffered from Geography depression. My grades never became
better, as my resentment towards my Geography teacher grew stronger. I hate the
sight of her.
During
that time of self-isolation, I purposely put it that way; or maybe I see it
that way; I kept things to myself. I could not figure out how to win my
teachers’ heart, how to impress them like other students did. I have only
myself to depend on. That period forced me to be my own best friend. I read
about everything; from the theory of evolution to myths and legends. I read a
lot about spiritual matters, topics and themes pertaining religion and
psychology interests me deeply. I have no recollection of the books or their
contents, but somehow I understood them. I do know that few years of reading
has shaped me so much!
It
seemed that I did not mind having a few friends, not being accepted in the cool
clan, being sceptically looked upon and in fact most probably considered too
clean to be real. How could I have forgotten that life is a journey; it is a
process of growing up, becoming me. Just when I thought I had my act, all
pulled together, the journey continues … I am still discovering myself and I am
not so clean after all! If I would have died at 17, if all what they say is
right, if all what they claim is the truth, then I am already in Heaven now,
waiting for my loved ones to complete their journeys too. Why didn’t I die back
then? God has a plan. My journey has been set. It would take me by surprise.
Was I prepared for it?
No comments:
Post a Comment