swim or drown- my only choice

Did you ever get the feeling when you’ve been working towards something for a few years and when you finally get to do it first-hand, you hate it?

 

That was me when I did my first practical training.

 

 

Sto-rini- 26

 

 

Hey everyone, I’m Rini. If you are someone from my real/internet life, you’ll know what course I’m studying as my career right now. You will know if you’re reading my blog and paying a little attention towards the about section of the blog.

 

If I may answer the question from above: yes, I got that feeling. Literally my first day of training. I hated it. I regretted my life’s decision, I regretted not following what I’m actually passionate about, literature. Instead, I took this safe option, which doesn’t seem so safe anymore.

 

It was 5 days ago; I took my seat before the computer with my senior explaining what is to be done and my fellow-student jotting it down on his new notepad, while I was nodding to her instructions. It felt surreal, I was disassociating from myself. She told us vaguely on what to do and took off. And I was just sitting in a small admin office with employees, all male not surprisingly, probably twice my age (or more) going on with their day-to-day work life. After registering my surroundings, I stopped zoning out and put my hands on the keyboard to type- but type what? I forgot. I forgot my work, like an idiot. After a much deserving scolding from my senior, I started working. It felt slow, yet time was running out. I was confused, I was agitated, I was looking everywhere for help with no hope of help. I was having a meltdown of my own, in my own little space called cubicle. I was losing it but kept composure. The first day, few hour- no few minutes in, I had this dawning realization alarming in my head “I HATE THIS, I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS FOREVER”.

 

It was so scary. That feeling of lost was giving me a pre-panic attack if that was a thing. I was typing, checking, numbers, words, yet my brain was in a full alarm mode. I’m not even exaggerating. I was so fu-king scared, for my life, my career. Do I have a choice? What do I do? Do I have time? Do I have money to change the whole life plan I had in my mind? And worse, what do I say to my parents? “Mom I am nervous, I quit”? I can’t say that. I fu-king can’t.

 

Second day came later than soon. The whole week felt like a month. The one hour traveling of seventeen kilometers, the blazing sun killing my vision, the 900 meter walk from the bus stop to the destination and back, all of that was too much for me. 5 days in, and those people throw me in a jungle in the name of training while others sit at the office with the comfort of air conditioning, I was pissed.

 

On the 3^rd day, just as I got the hang of the 2^nd day work, they gave me a new routine to follow. For three days since day-3, I was walking the same beat, 1030 to 1730 with a lunch break for an hour. It was exhausting. And to think the gentlemen in the same room as me have been doing that for as old as I am (or more) was even more tiring to me, than to them. I hated the lifestyle I was thrown into for mere 6 days and they’ve been living that for more than 20 years, the thought scared me. I don’t want to fu-king sit before a fu-king computer typing numbers for 8 hours a day, 6 days a week, for the rest of my fu-king life. Is it even a life anymore?

 

I was so scared.

For the journey I took

For the destination to arrive

For the choice I didn’t have

For the choice I could never have

 

I’m guilty

For not knowing better

On what I want to do

In future as an adult,

As a teenager

 

 

4 days in, I decided to sing songs in my head while I do the work. At first, I was singing ‘love me not’ by Ravyn Lenae, such a catchy tune, can’t remember the lyrics. Then I sang ‘fool’ by Frankie Cosmos (my latest obsession, spent an entire hour listening to it on repeat one night), then it was ‘melting’ by Kali Uchis, ‘Pretty little baby’ by Connie Francis, and that’s it.

I was trying to at least love what I’m doing instead of crying over spilled milk. I was sure this is not what I loved doing. In fact, this, me writing in my computer is what I love doing, not for money, not for a witnesses, for me. I write so I can leave a mark in this world that screams “hey!! I was here!” I just want to be a part of history as we become one.

 

Anyways, that eased my 4^th day by a lot. Then, I realized the concept of perspective. I know it sounds funny or even basic but hear me out. All the days I was on the bus for 2 hours a day, I was surrounded by many people. I saw old woman trying to make a living selling vegetables in the scorching sun, I saw an old man on the streets creaming “vegetables” pushing a cart of almost spoiled vegetables, I saw a mom with her 2 year old in the bus going somewhere.

Have you ever travelled with kids? In a bus? It’s so complicated. There might not be any seats. Sometimes the kid doesn’t even sit because their mom isn’t. They cry, yell, play, and laugh all in a span of 5 minutes (or less). They would lose their footwear on the stairs of the bus and tell the mother after like 30 whole minutes or before if she notices why her kid is barefoot. Sometimes the kid wants to walk as they get on the bus, which is difficult because 1. The stairs are tall 2. There is crowd going in, back of them trying to go in, conductor rushing them in 3. They go slow and steady 4. They (often) lose their footwear, I can go on. In short, it’s not easy. This one time, it was 7 in the evening and I was to stop at the next stop so I was standing near the driver’s pole. I saw a kid coming in. Her mother was holding her hand and helping her get in. Mind you, it was rush hour. The kid notices that her belt in one of her belt sandals came off. So she stopped in the middle of getting in to put it back on. It was so funny. The mother was rushing her in; there were people behind her, in front of here, everywhere. And this little girl just stopped to put the Velcro belt on.

 

In short, people are out there struggling everyday to even make a living and put four fingers in their mouth at night and sleep so they can wake up the next day and do it all over again. And here I was sitting in an air conditioned room on a padded chair with free lunch every day worrying about not wanting to look at numbers for the rest of my life. I felt so silly. Not that I was invalidating my feelings, I was hit with perspectives. It can be so much worse and I was beating myself up for it not getting better. I forgot to be grateful.

 

I felt bad about feeling bad about those employees and thinking that the life they were living wasn’t even a life. But I was so wrong. I’m so wrong.

 

I always say, life is to live. And I don’t know where I saw it or read it, but it’s wrong to think living only looks like having fun, laughing, doing what we love, taking a park in the walk, going on trips, meeting up with friends or feeling happy all the time. But that’s not true. At least now, I think that’s not true.

 

Living can be both sides of life. Sometimes we find ourselves in a dump, unable to look out, unable to do anything for that matter. Sometimes we see the problems in a magnifying glass that we don’t even know was there in the first place. Sometimes we don’t want to go out and take a park in the walk; we don’t want to go out of our house. Sometimes we just want to stay at home, take a break, take some rest, and stop giving all the time. That’s also living. Being grateful is where things start to look beautiful, gradually.

 

Living is not a feeling; it’s a state of being. That’s why we are called living beings, not livers.

 

 

 

Thank you for reading till the end.

 

I’m sorry for being late; I was stuck in a dump and just now got out as I completed writing this piece.

 

 

Thank you, again.

 

Yours lovingly,

Rini.

 

 

 

Ps: I still don’t love my choice in career; I’m trying to fall in love. And I’m only now realizing it’s not so easy OR fast to fall in love as we see in movies. And to my real life readers, no follow-up please.