“I am helplessly frustrated”
Yeah, that’s right, I am frustrated, I know I wanna get rid of it and I even somewhere know that I can, but I’m unable to, maybe because I don’t have enough courage to fight with myself. I just wanna go with the flow, I just wanna stay silent and surrender. Yes, this is me now, the exact opposite of who I was once.
So let’s begin the ode to my frustration. It all began around 6-7 years ago. I was a 16-year-old, happy go lucky person not giving a damn about anything. My only best friend who I could confide in was my mom. Until one evening my mom had a heart attack and she collapsed in my arms in my drawing room! This was the first attack of my helplessness. That was the only day I wept uncontrollably because, from the next day itself, I was the “woman of the house.” Those were the exact words quoted by my near & dear ones. Those words felt heavy, very heavy, but I had no choice, I had to chop my wings and get into those shoes. Thus, the second attack of helplessness.
Days passed, a 16-year-old girl listening to every random and unnecessary advice and words from everyone. I was searching love, in any form, I just wanted someone to confide in. Because yes, now, I can’t cry, I can’t yell, I can’t tell anyone anything, I can’t live on my own terms. I was cheated, betrayed, taken advantage of, the world taught me, I can’t tell anyone anything, I can’t trust, I can’t talk my heart out. Thus, many more helpless moments came in my life from then, till now, giving rise to a super introvert and fake girl. I am there for everyone, but I want only myself when I am in need.
Few months passed, one day suddenly, my phone rang, telling me that my brother met with an accident and is in ICU. My father and I rushed to him to find out he had broken his leg and was operated. Months passed, I lived alone in the big city of Goa, taking care of everything out of my capacity. I was in 12th, my brother on the bed for over a year, my father struggling to be a mother too. I was tensed and started to break a little, but still, I couldn’t tell. Fights and arguments kept going in the house, well because “a motherless teenage girl” is always spoilt and the two males need to take care of her. Every time, they didn’t understand my struggle, they didn’t ask, they just knew that I am spoilt! My series of helpless moments never seemed to end.
Finally, I got out of my high school. The first opportunity came and I grabbed it! I left my house, or should I say I ran away to fly. Three years of struggle, freedom, and happiness accompanied by many heartbreaks, betrayal but who cares. At least I was free but then God had other plans. The breaking point of my life came. The worst helpless* moment.
One day, while I was in college, I realized there were 22 missed calls that I had seemed to ignore during lectures. I immediately called back and the earth below my feet disappeared faster than those words hit my system, “your dad is in the ICU, he has brain haemorrhage”. The last piece of courage and happiness left, shattered. I ran, I cried, I did whatever I could. Eventually, I succeeded in saving my dad but somehow failed to save myself.
Now I am helplessly frustrated. I wanted to study further, I wanted to travel to the best University in the world and conquer my dreams, but I chose to go to the nearest college and live with my dad to take care of him. Being a topper, I dreamt of earning the best, I worked hard for it, but I chose to work for free, to stay at my home. I got a call from my favourite architect’s office for an internship, but I said no to him and settled down at home. The build up of this series of frustrating events added to make me depressed and angry all the time. Everything happening around ends up making me think of how dying is easier than living. All I can think of is dying or running away; I need some form of escape.
I know I did right, but I didn’t want to do right! I wanted to chase down my dreams, right or wrong, who cares. Yes, I am a good daughter, a good human, but I am a depressed me.
Note: This story was shared by a writer who wishes to stay anonymous.