I woke up at 6.30 this morning.
I know, that’s news in itself.
But the reason it’s important is the fact that it wasn’t by chance. In fact, I’ve done it before, recently, in the last few days. And the routine goes something like this.
Before going to bed I look out of the window longingly, and tell myself I can do this. I feel happy about the next morning. And then the alarm rings.
After snoozing some gazillion times I finally remember the enthu Shreya of the evening earlier, and groggily drag myself out of bed. And then I go to the window, and look out, apprehensively.
Months of introspection and a lot of awkward moments later, I’ve realized I have some issues that I need to deal with. One of the most basic ones is the fact that at the moment my self confidence is at an all time low. It sounds silly, and if you meet me, it’s not like I’m going to be a mumbling shivering poor soul who can’t breathe out a word in front of you. I can probably pfaff my way through a good long conversation. But only if I can get myself to even get up and make conversation. If I can get myself to do anything at all, in fact.
I’ve been brought up to be independent. It was never a question in my head. While I was never the extremely outgoing types, I was never this shy either. I’ve travelled alone in disgusting blue line buses, lived away from home for over six years, and taken care of myself for over two years now. I came to Mumbai barely knowing anyone here, and I figured out on my own how to travel in the city, how to wage through the monsoons, where to go for yoga, how to shop in a supermarket and somehow carry all those bags home… I was miserable throughout all those ‘how-to’s’…I visited more doctors than ever before, ripped out nails, fainted in supermarkets, and cursed the rains. But I still went ahead and did it.
And yet, for the last so many days, I have woken up at 6.30 in the morning, looked out of the window, and come up with an excuse to not walk down the steps and into the swimming pool alone. There’s either a weird tummy, the maid’s bad timing, too many people, too few people….there is always something. I waited for days for my flat mate to give me company. The thought of stepping into a swimming pool after 13 years, alone, somehow, is scary. So I waited, and waited, for the perfect time, and company. I went once with my sister, and loved it. And yet, I found myself making excuses the next day onwards again.
I don’t know how, or why, but I managed to drag myself out today. The number of people were perfect. My tummy, a little weird, more from nervousness, was deemed bearable. The maid wasn’t expected till later. And I was awake without hitting the snooze button, and finally out of bed.
I still did check out the pool ten times from my window before going. I still thought of turning back a zillion times. But once I heard the lap-lapping sound of water, once I saw the adults using little floating devices to make sure they didn’t drown in five feet deep water, I felt better. I felt I could do this.
And I did.
P.S. I know all this sounds silly, and believe me, it’s embarrassing for me to even come out and say how much of an issue this was for me. But the simple fact is, that it was. And somewhere I feel, that to be able to go ahead and enter the pool again tomorrow, I need to have admitted this. And to know that I can do this. Today and tomorrow. And again.
Well, till the damned monsoons at least.