peace diaries
As I strolled in Central Park amidst the trees, the wind blew my half-tied hair away, and I reached for my jacket pockets and sought warmth for my frozen hands. Even when the sun was out, my cold hands could not survive the windy weather. Still surrounded by the echoing conversations in the park and the tourists’ bright smiles, I noticed a strange feeling within me that I had never known or experienced before.
I felt at peace and to this day I remain oblivious to what helped me achieve a state of mind that I once thought was unattainable. For the first time, I am not overly consumed by my sombre thoughts; however I am quite curious about how I secured this peculiar feeling.
Ever since that evening in Central Park, I often find myself philosophizing over the word “peace,” and I have involuntarily found myself on a journey where I try to understand this word. How did I begin feeling this way? Was it therapy, was it my incredible and loyal friends, was it my new mindset, or was it the newly acquired act of letting go of any unhealthy relationships and attachments? Many possibilities often reduce the chances of narrowing it down to the primary target; here, the keyword remains “reduce,” so I shall stay hopeful and unmask the true origin of this newfound peace in my life.
I have never known peace and I think it is fair to say that I have been surviving in constant fight or flight mode, but last January, I decided to go to therapy and unpack all the experiences and find answers to many questions, and I walked out learning an important mantra instead.
“it was not your fault.”
Growing up, I always thought I was responsible for how people acted towards me. I was in a constant state of trying to “fix” situations and save people from harm. Naturally, I would often stay wide awake at night, pondering over what I could have possibly done differently to have saved certain friendships and relationships, and I could never seem to answer my own questions. Life has had its fair share of rough patches that have moulded me into someone who blamed herself for every situation. Going over each and every traumatic memory helped me see through their actions much more clearly. It was indeed never my fault how my father flew into a rage every day or why I was treated differently based on the colour of my skin and the size of my body.
It had nothing to do with that 8-year-old girl who cried on her way home and wondered why she did not look like any of the Disney princesses. She was beautiful in her own way, but unfortunately, she became her own enemy by constantly blaming herself. It has taken me so long to see how people walk all over you if you let them and that I do not wish to trade this peace for anything else in the world.
I treasure this solitude and am willing to protect my hard-earned peace. It certainly does not mean that I wish to go hermit and avoid socializing, but rather a new approach of being present in society. A reinvention of myself that possesses strong boundaries and deflects conversations regarding racism, classism, colourism, or any kind of body shaming. It was a mentally exhausting bubble that I had created for myself by believing other people’s narratives, and I do not wish to let this environment exist anymore for anyone.
There has been a sense of peace ever since I placed all my trust in these five words, “It was not your fault.” I repeat the sentence numerous times as I meditate in the mornings and begin my day. Who would have thought how a simple sentence could hold the power to shift my despondent views and earn me something as beautiful as peace.
