What I Would Tell My Younger Self
Although she’d smile politely, and ignore me.
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger — something better, pushing right back. (Quote by Albert Camus)
When I joined engineering college ten years ago, I was a textbook nerd.
I did not care about my looks, I had never been kissed, and had spent my childhood adhering to the rules of my strict Bengali parents.
Even badminton sessions were rationed; a minute late and I’d be grounded.
My ego was tied to my achievements: good grades, quizzer, spelling bee champion. I had been performing for other people for too long.
Then: college! Freedom beckoned seductively.
I began living in the girls’ hostel (what we call student housing/dorm here). Despite my diffidence, I was adopted by extroverted friends.
Soon we were having movie nights, going to parties and sneaking around the campus after-hours. Girls were locked indoors after 10 PM (boys were not; hello, sexism in India) but we found loopholes for fun.
The glasses came off, I grew my hair and started dating. Suddenly, I was cool. Our girl gang was popular. We would get admiring glances from boys and junior girls alike.
It was a rush I’d never felt. The drinking, cigarettes, the dressing-up-and-strutting-off-to-clubs in heels and lipstick — it was thrilling.
My reckoning came: the cool girl life had a price. Grades plummeted and my professors weren’t as fond of me as my school teachers had been.
There was a healthy dose of slut-shaming, too; like the rumours in our final year that we’d only secured jobs because we’d worn makeup to interviews.
At the end of a whirlwind four years, with poorer grades, closer friends, and a better job offer than I’d expected, I thought I’d made a colossal blunder by partying so much and studying so little. I began my career with the resolve that I’d do it right this time.
Six years and many more mistakes later, I’m no longer a good girl (read: a people pleaser) or a rebel without a cause. Here’s what I’d tell my former self.
Embrace failure.
I’ve been terrified of failure since I was a little girl. My parents had stressful jobs and short tempers. They wouldn’t miss a chance to yell. I wasn’t allowed to fail.
But failure is a better teacher than success can ever be.
Engineering was not my forte. After feeling sorry for myself a bit, I pulled my socks up and did everything I could to land a job in business analytics.
I spent six wonderful years in analytics consulting. Had I pushed through and done well in undergrad, I’d have a masters and an unfulfilling job.
I saved myself years of misery by failing. Failing that exam allowed me to pivot.
Here’s an exercise I learned at my first job on re-thinking failure as an opportunity for growth.
When you feel you’ve made an error, grab a notebook, and try the 5 whys tool for root cause analysis.
You are not your beliefs.
All the iron-clad beliefs I’ve held have changed. That’s what growing up is: it isn’t a destination, it’s a journey.
I struggled with crippling self-esteem issues for years. I thought I was not good enough.
I met a wonderful therapist who taught me how to unlearn limiting beliefs.
I’d always assumed that my beliefs were an integral part of who I was.
Opening up to a different possibility took months of inner work and a lot of resistance. Changing my belief to I am worthy took me years.
A great way to challenge a core belief is to put pen to paper and write it down. Then, answer the following:
- Is there evidence supporting this belief?
- Is there evidence to the contrary?
Try this helpful worksheet.
TherapistAid has helpful resources, although I’d always recommend working with a trained professional.
Feelings are not facts. But they need to be felt.
All my life I’ve been punching my feelings down. In college, I numbed them with alcohol and partying.
Quote by John Green: “That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.”
Emotions are like babies or kittens that keep pawing at your face, demanding your attention. The longer you ignore them, the more tyrannical they get.
I’ve learned to simply observe difficult emotions through therapy and guided meditation. I use a paid meditation app, but here’s a marvelous video that I’ve returned to many times, as well:
You aren’t a problem to be fixed.
This is a core belief many of us have. In a society that expects relentless self-improvement, the “fixing” mindset is normalised.
You are not something to be fixed. Scream it from the rooftops, if you will.
We all have innate uniqueness. Years later, this is what I realise: when my friends looked after me through my lowest points, they didn’t try to “fix” me, they were just there. That simple act was healing and transformative.
People did not always see me beyond my walls. I wanted to hide behind a curated persona to escape scrutiny and judgement. Some criticised me anyway, and I survived.
So show yourself to the world — that’s how you’ll find your tribe.
All this won’t matter. And it will.
I left my sheltered bubble to join a male-dominated, patriarchal institute.
I would feel the gnaw of not belonging — in a class full of boys who would deliberately exclude their female peers. The betrayal hit especially hard from the ones I thought were friends.
Now I remember all the good bits too, in visceral sensation. The sway of the bus to the mall, always running into a familiar face on it. The lingering taste of the delicious, cheap food from the shops around uni. The breeze on a moonlit Lovers’ Lane.
The bittersweet memory of the last few days; drenching in monsoon rain in twilight with the girls as the leaves on the ancient trees dripped water and the campus looked enchanting. The gut-wrenching sadness for the home we’d leave behind.
There is dichotomy weaved into every moment in life. When we accept that the good always comes with the bad, our experience becomes richer.
You’ll find your way again.
As a child I could summon an entire universe of imagination. We all could.
A child who dreamed of adventure and magical creatures. I pushed her away, constantly, in my quest to fit in. We all did.
I started letting her in again, haltingly, then more.
Find ways to reconnect with your inner child.
The universe I mentioned?
It is a secret garden, untended, withered, and you can’t find the key just yet. You’ll find your way back. You’ll slip in, in moments of confusion, and sink against the wall. The garden is there — waiting for you.
