A kind of peace

The last four years have finally given the answer to the classic choice between mountains and beaches. I am a beach person, for better or worse. Maybe it's because my lungs have adapted to the high pollution levels that surround me and how nearly every time I go to a hill station, I feel more queasy than relaxed. So yeah, beach for the win but I love the city, so city girl over everything. Coming back to the metaphor I was going for: the way the waves rush in, touch your feet for a brief moment, and retreat quietly. I have realized that this simplistic action is something, that we as humans find difficult. Learning to let things come and also let them go.  The psychologist in me first thought, it was about control but maybe it's not. 

Recently, when someone asks if I’m okay, my answer depends on who’s asking. And no, it’s not because I’m being guarded or have decided to put up walls (some have been there since ages, and so far I'm happy). It's because somewhere along the way, I'm fine stopped feeling real. It’s a word that sounds polite but hollow, a word that hides more than it reveals. On some days, I hate it, on some I realize maybe that's how society has actually conditioned us. It comes so automatically, like a default kicking in. I'm also learning that authenticity, even in small moments is hard, but worth striving for. A seemingly unassuming chat with a colleague can make you feel at peace, even if it's just an honest conversation about something random. The dopamine rush from decadent cookies which might make you feel guilty later, but gives you something to hold on to and enjoy in the moment. The first sip of an especially good cup of early morning coffee that you made. 

Intimacy is often spoken of in romantic terms, but it’s the cornerstone of all close connections. It’s what makes us feel seen, understood, teased, and held. It’s what makes us call someone ours. Yet sometimes, in trying to hold on to that closeness, we forget to hold on to ourselves. Emotional dependency convinces us that we need people, when sometimes, the fact is that we want them. And that difference, though subtle, can change everything. Care as a choice or as a convenience can turn authenticity into routine and to hurts, yes, but maybe it’s also an opening: a chance to rebuild, to relearn, and to finally choose ourselves. Self care isn't just about spa days or weekly treats (although they do help!), but more about making the choice that resonates with you, more. It might be harder and definitely something that operates on baby steps but hopefully, we'd be able to find some level of peace to just let ourselves be. Like the tide, we keep returning not to the same shore, but to newer versions of ourselves each time. Life happens. People change. But what makes or breaks you is how gently you learn to stay true  to your feelings, your boundaries, and your becoming. We're never taught how to build boundaries, maybe because that's something we need to teach and learn ourselves. Boundaries are not important to keep people out, but rather to protect yourself first. Self preservation is a distant cousin of it, and doesn't define it entirely. Boundaries in and between family members, friends, partners come to define the emotional climate and help you hold space for others without losing space for yourself. And maybe that’s what growing up really means learning that love doesn’t always mean giving more. Sometimes, it means returning to your own shore, knowing you can still care deeply, but without losing yourself in the tide. Too long for ramble toh abhi ke liye bas itna hi..