Over the past few weeks, I’ve been noticing a few things about myself - things I didn’t pay
much attention to before.
The recent Roshna’s lore activity was a bit of a trigger. I didn’t expect to be chosen as the spokesperson for my
group, and I definitely didn’t feel like the most obvious choice. But I took it up. I tried to represent what the group
had discussed, asked for help when I needed it, and kept things moving. I thought I handled it fine until the whole
thing got loud, messy, and chaotic. That’s when it started feeling uncomfortable.
And not just “it’s noisy”, uncomfortable, but familiar uncomfortable. Like I was being thrown back into a version of
myself I thought I’d outgrown.
It reminded me a lot of school. I studied in an environment that was really competitive - rankings, performance,
“doing better than the rest” — that was the air we breathed. At times, it felt more draining than motivating. You
were rewarded for outcomes, not for how you felt or what you were learning about yourself. Somewhere in that
mix, I picked up the idea that if I wasn’t constantly proving something, I wasn’t enough. And that if I spoke up and
didn’t say something perfect, I’d regret it.
Even before that, at home, things were different. My parents were expressive, loud in a warm, nice and homely way
— and I ended up being the quiet one. Not because I was told to be, but maybe because it created some kind of
balance. I never liked talking unless I had to, and even then, I rarely raised my voice. People seemed to like that
about me. I was seen as obedient, well-behaved, and not dramatic. And maybe without realizing it, I started
associating being quiet and composed with being a “good person.”
So when I was younger, I stayed quiet. I convinced myself that speaking was something other people did. And I never
really challenged that idea. Even when I started becoming more social and confident in college, part of me still
marked that outgoingness as foreign.
That’s why, during the Roshna activity, when things got too loud and disorganised, I didn’t know how to stay present.
I felt I did what was needed — but emotionally, I shut down a little. It felt like I was just trying to make it through. I
kept thinking, “This would’ve thrown me off completely a few years ago.” The difference now is that I could at
least see it happening. I didn’t spiral. I stayed functional, even if not fully comfortable.
That’s something I’m slowly learning, how to notice what’s happening inside me without always rushing to fix it. I'm
usually in "figure it out" mode, especially when things go wrong. But when something goes right, I rarely pause. I
move on. And yet, when I fail, or feel like I did, I hang on to it way longer than I should. That’s probably something
that started back in school and never really got questioned.
At the same time, I think I’ve grown more than I give myself credit for. I’ve surprised myself in the past month -
adapting to new people, new systems, a new rhythm of life. I didn’t think I’d be able to do this. But here I am, doing
it. Day by day. Most days, I feel mentally present. Some days I shift into survival mode, and honestly, I think that’s
okay. I know when it’s happening. That awareness itself feels new.
There are moments of joy, too - spontaneous conversations, laughter, those rare times when something feels light
and real. I haven’t felt fully playful yet, but I think I’m getting there. It’s like I’m slowly giving myself permission to
relax, without needing everything to have a purpose.
One thing I do feel guilty about is not calling my family every day. I know they don’t expect it. But part of me feels
like I’m failing at staying connected, like I should be “doing better.” That voice isn’t theirs - it’s mine. I guess it’s
coming from the part of me that still measures love in effort or consistency.
I don’t think I’ve figured out what kind of person I am - not yet. But I’ve started to see that I don’t have to become
louder or different to fit in. I can show up as I am: quiet, thoughtful, maybe even uncertain, and still contribute
meaningfully. Maybe that’s what growth looks like for me right now: being able to stay in the room when things get
chaotic, being able to notice my patterns, and slowly learning to respond instead of retreat.
Still figuring it out. But I think I’m getting somewhere.
