Peaceful, Critical Reflection on the Human Condition
The act of penning my thoughts around 2020 felt personally crucial. I scrolled through Google Docs., trying to find a suitably prim template which I felt would visually be reflective of the content within. I wanted to pen a neat, organized flow of thought, an impeccable formatting to reflect structure, depth and conclusiveness behind my thought. None of this composure would, of course, represent the reality of the mental tumult of over-analysis, the frustration in attempts to pattern life’s absurdities or the forcefully overlapped hardwire of mere coincidences that had occurred in the past year. However, in periods of difficulty the previous year, I viewed the pain endured from each experience as futile if I failed to learn from it — but more importantly, carry that lesson into future instances of ease and relief as well. If I could have it my way, hereon would follow my perfect recollection and eloquence in penning each of life’s little lessons. This venture is but a mere reflection of only what seems to be top-of-mind at the moment.
I learnt that I matter. I was a bit surprised when I found myself writing this as the first lesson. Maybe this is symbolic of my attempt to put myself first. I learnt that I must stop making myself small, no matter how much those one, two, or one-too-few people convince me I occupy more space than I deserve. I learnt that I do not have to lose a loved one to know loss, I do not have to share extensive experiences with one to be worried about their ailment, and I do not have to tell others I am okay when I am not okay, just to avoid hitting a hattrick on the “I am not okay” response.
I learnt that my career is not all that I am, my friends’ perception of me is not all that I am, my social media presence is not all that I am, my depressive episodes are not all that I am, my achievements are not all that I am, my playlists or this note are not all that I am, my insecurities are not all that I am, my latest material purchases are not all that I am, my mistakes are not all that I am, and what other people think of me after what-I-did-that-one-time is not all that I am. And I learnt that this holds true for others.
I learnt that my grief is just as valid and deserves just as much nurturing and attention as someone for whom the loss may be more proximate. I learnt that I matter. That yes 2020 was a hard year for everyone. But it is okay to, once in a while, not treat it as a competition and admit that 2020 was hard for me, without feeling like I am repositioning myself as the center of the universe. Without feeling like I am taking up more space, thought and attention than I deserve. And I urge you to do the same. To just admit it to yourself — this was hard for you. For everyone else too, yes. But 2020 was hard for you. And it was hard for me.
I learnt just how humane we all are. How we all need to cry. We all must cry. Yet we all sit around, talk of everything that doesn’t matter, fill in pockets of silences with discussions on the weather, tell old friends it was lovely catching up when all each of us did was talk about our work, discuss just how prevalent depression and anxiety there is in the world without mentioning its proximity to us and how we could not bring ourselves to clean our rooms all of last week because we just. could not. get out of bed.
We went to the extents of avoiding each other for weeks because we were unable to face the vulnerability of the human condition, only to show up sheepishly with a lame “yeah I was really busy/lost” excuse. We texted, called, met each other, offering support and solace, always wanting to be there for others but failing so miserably at showing up. Our mistake was as simple as wanting to move mountains, write pamphlets of advice, and author self-help books for a friend who just wanted to hear “hey, how are you holding up?”.
2020 taught me how we’re chasing after so much — we’re trying so hard to find ourselves within notions of monetary success, pursuits of careers, maintenance of Instagram blogs, that we forget to be who we are in our rawest, purest, and most natural form. And so when 2020 gave us a gulp of grief to swallow, we did not know where to lock our empty gazes. When 2020 clearly shattered our friend’s world right in front of our eyes, we kept wishing we knew what to say, without thinking if hearing something from us was what they even wanted. When 2020 isolated us from each other, we did not know how to be alone. We had made ourselves so uncomfortable with solitude that we felt suffocated being in the mere presence of ourselves, when our thoughts seem to fill up our bedrooms and there seems to be nowhere to run anyone. 2020 taught me I need to learn how to truly be with myself, and be at peace with it.
To my indignation, I learnt that life owes me nothing, and so I will get my more-than-fair-share of kicks. However much it may seem like some metaphysical force is out there to get me, I really am not that significant to be picked on this way. I am still trying to figure out if the accounts of pain and pleasure in the ledger of my life will eventually balance out, or is life just supremely spewing random codes of mundanity, love, hardships, growth, stress, laughter, and of course, those beautiful, pure, fleeting moments. I’m inclined towards the latter — but figuring out this answer will make no difference to the truth of my existence or the spell of the next rain.
I learnt that it is okay if I do not end this note with positive foresight. That I have nothing to prove to others. That it is okay if I merely reflect in the present moment, and not plan ahead. That I am human and my default condition should not always be centered around thinking positively and proactively like the posters would have me believe, but can be geared towards peaceful critical reflection. I learnt that it is okay to stop, take a moment, and breathe. I learnt that it’s okay that even after learning so much, I still barely have anything figured out. I learnt that it is okay if someone feels they need to check in with me after I post this and I should not regret this, or perceive it as my own cry for sympathy or attention, because my mind can trick me into feeling lesser than a complete human being.
Tracks linked above that got me through this year — I hope they offer the reader respite, clarity, relatability or enjoyment:
Nothing Lasts — Bedroom
Good News — Mac Miller
Hand of God — Jon Bellion
Maybe IDK — Jon Bellion