Must you always change yourself for the better?

Is the person behind you writing commands on your back?

I am an uptight person.

I know that now.

This divine enlightenment came but recently; perhaps a short two or three years ago.

I wasn’t always aware of this characteristic trait attached to my personality like a leech on human skin. How could I be? I was blinded by the urge to solve- everything and all at once. Mitigate from the very roots, without so much as glancing at the problem to assess whether it actually needs fixing. After all, I was on my path to self-discovery. To awareness. Little did I know how literal awareness was. Just that- to know. To do something about it is entirely secondary. But at that time I was moved to believe transformation was the key to deliverance. In other words, I was Gautam Buddha’s very own dead and discarded cell, its functions outdated and of no use to anyone. I see I am too angry; I swallow the rage. I see I am too vulnerable; I gain composure. I see I am too emotional; I toughen up.

That was my idea of meditative modification.

That was my idea of how to change myself into a new person. A better person.

Chang. Change. Change. And then change some more.

I suspected I was one, you know-uptight pedant, when despite daily meditation, I couldn’t ‘chill the fuck out’ over things that my peers hardly seemed to notice. Menial things. Things that could potentially render me ‘uncool’ when discovered. If you took something from my place, put it back exactly where you found it. Do not sit on my bedsheet in your ‘outside’ clothes; I’ve clearly demarcated the area you can sit on by spreading a bedcover over it. Do not come into my immediate vicinity, I hate physical touch unless you’re my little sister. I can’t laugh at jokes I don’t find funny; might even get destructive if said joke is followed by the idiocy of “it’s just a joke”. I cannot sweep things under the carpet and expect it to disappear into the abyss of days gone by. I need ‘thank yous’ and ‘please’ and ‘sorrys’ and ‘excuse mes’. I need explanations and acknowledgements. I need plans and fine executions.

But…..but cool girls don't condone any of these things. And last I checked, I was totally a cool girl.

“Cool girls are hot, brilliant, funny women who adore football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who play video games, drink cheap beer, love threesomes and anal sex, and jam hot dogs and hamburgers into their mouths like they’re hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because cool girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool girls never get angry, they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the cool girl. Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time, cool girl offended me. I used to see men- friends, coworkers, strangers- giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of women exist and might kiss them.” (If you know, you know bonny, what can I say)

Above lord, cool girls are laid back; all the way reclined till hell fire’s licking their heads.

I was a cool girl once, a terror born out of circumstance. You see bonny, I am human, and the most beautiful aspect of my humanity is variance. On the other end of my aforementioned uptight traits, I had characters of a literal ice cube. Exams never stress me out. If I’ve studied, I’ll do well and if I haven’t, I won’t. Either way I am not troubled by the outcome. Getting caught in mischiefs or wrongdoings never made me flinch. Luck is luck, some days I may get caught, sometimes I won't. I was always way above competition. I didn’t care for the winning gold. If I am already late, I don’t put in an effort to be late by fewer seconds. I take my time. I don’t hold grudges against those who don’t hold a place of significance in my life. I can conduct a whole conversation with words you want to hear. I can adjust to people, places, present and past. I smoke, drink and curse. In some ways, I am the breathing reflection of someone you’d look at and say, “My goodness you’re so chill.”

That is what I am made out to be upon a cursory glance- a fucking cool girl.

Naturally, when I was younger, I saw myself from an epidermal POV of the world around me. They said I was a cool girl, so I believed- rather fanatically that I was indeed a cool girl, and I religiously followed the path required to play this part. A sudden burst of preferences, passions, emotions, tantrums....things that are absolutely normal for a woman....human to feel- erupting out of my grown-up soul was confusing to me. Women are emotive beings, governed by feelings and dramas and sentiments. Asking a woman to "chill out" is like asking a monkey to fall off a branch. Unnecessary. I was in an internal conflict with a version of myself created by my environment and the version of myself I was carving out of this environment. I couldn’t believe I was the very thing I mocked- uptight purist. It was like finding a giant bag of bones in my closet. I didn’t care where it came from, who it came from. All I knew was that it was a bad thing to own, and I needed to get rid of it as soon as possible.

It is tougher to shake off when you have once tasted the privilege that comes with being a cool girl in your primitive years. You’re likable. You’re praised. You’re adored. People enjoy the version of you that they’ve created for their comfort because then you’re so easy for them to be around. You never take up space. But when I found out the truth about myself, the fall from grace nearly broke me. I remember practicing for months how to regulate my emotions, control my anger, allay my passions. Scoot, scuffle, adjust....compromise. Even when it didn’t need modulation. When I was genuinely and rightfully upset, I still felt as if I was overreacting. Even though most of the times this reaction was confined within my head (I wouldn't dare to let go of my cool girl persona), I still felt as if I was not being true to myself. Why did this reaction of aggression even come by? I was supposed to be adjusting, laid back, forgiving. I was supposed to be chill. Then why was I getting so bothered that this xyz person clicked an ugly picture of mine while I was tripping over. It was all for fun. I should have understood that. I was fun. I should have been finding it funny because it was meant to be funny.

But I didn’t. I was entirely and deeply upset. The kind that consumed me for  days.

For the longest time I hated this person I suddenly found out I was. Self awareness will not always make you realize what an angel you are; sometimes you'll hate what you come face to face with. I now knew I wasn’t a cool girl, but someone who looked at others and thought, “God, I wish I could truly be that cool.” I was fluttering between the truth I now knew and the lie that still existed. It was stifling to navigate between these two worlds and I knew there was an easy fix- to maintain homeostasis. I knew my problem would be gone if I could simply dial back to how things were. All I had to do was become the cool girl I once thought I was. For the better. So, I began to look into ways I could change myself. Ways I could be less petty. Less difficult to be around. Meditate to become stoic, calm, resilient and placid.

Not for peace and content.

But meditating I was, right? How very powerful this game of mind and soul, that even after applying the wrong formula I arrived to a decent answer. You see, I don't think peace is the absence of anger, hate, jealousy, lust. It is the ability to co-exist with them.

I segregated my world. All of us live in two or three or as many worlds as we need, to achieve our desired state of optimization. I live in one world that matters and another that doesn’t matter. Both important for sustenance. Both symbiotic. I figured I could be my uptight, passionate, high maintenance self around people who matter to me because they can handle it. It isn’t too much for them. They know I am still an even person- no loss or gain, despite the fact that I made them decode for two whole hours, a little argument between us till I was satisfied with the conclusion. I can be exactly who I am, and it doesn’t hurt anyone in this particular world. It was liberating to recognise who I am , especially the parts that bother me.

I took my time to accept my uptight personality.

It has since made my life a hell lot easier. I am not affected anymore when I can’t take a joke. I declare very lucidly that I am not the right audience. Some understand, some try but fail, some storm off. But, amidst all of this I am at peace. I do not feel any unnecessary pressure to improve or change myself for the better. I have come to realise that improvement is like technology. We’re constantly expected to upgrade. You wake up at seven; try six, that’s better. You eat rice; switch to roti, it’s healthier. You run; try Pilates, it’s more slimming. There are thousand different ways of living. And living well. Trying to constantly be on the move, to change every little thing that is considered a “flaw” or not sickeningly sublime, is a terrible hustle. At least not something I can chase after.

I think it’s okay if you are a little too cautious on trips and like to recheck the details with your mates. The real ones will put up with it. You don’t need to emulate someone else's recklessness to be a fun person. It’s okay if you are stern to strangers before opening up. You don’t have to chase mindless geniality to be a good person. It’s okay if you are meticulous and compulsive. It’s okay if you are particular and obsessive. Even I myself might hate being around someone like you BUT I don't matter. You and your world does. It’s really really okay if there are parts of you that do not fit the box of "ease". Take up your space in quietness. There are more flaws in us than we can ever hope to fix in this lifetime. I think it's better to recognise the ones which truly need fixing instead of micromanaging your entire existence in hopes of becoming something you are not. It has worked wonders for me when I accepted this harmless flaw of mine and worked my way up from there. The trick is not to change everything. It is to change your approach- knowing how to contain and where to unleash these ‘flawed’ parts of you.

Like energy, unnatural to destroy; only transmitted from one form to the other.