WHO AM I? “Your pack sir”, it was the usher, she looked at me with great disdain after I had collected the paper bag and she walked away. I was the only one sitting far behind. I looked at the podium, Mr. Peterson was rounding up his talk, “I hope Ive been able to explain my point, Thank you”, he said. He walked away and there was a standing ovation. I was lost. At the beginning of the program, the anchor introduced the speakers and told us the order in which they were going to speak. We were told Mr. Peterson was going to speak last and each of the four speakers had thirty minutes each. What had happened? Last I remember, Mr. Hunter was speaking, he was only fifteen minutes into his speech. The last words I heard were “living as others is worse than living a wasted life”. It seemed like I had been comatose for about forty-five minutes. The statement struck me and my whole life played out before me. I understand why the usher acted that way, it must have taken her time to get my attention. The anchor ended the program by thanking the speakers, the audience and the organizers. The program had taken place in school and my room was just fifteen minutes away; I preferred walking back to my abode. I afforded the chance to reflect on the thoughts that seemingly made me lose consciousness. I am from a family of five-my parents, my sister, my brother and I. My sister is two years older than my brother and six years older than me. I had been the subject of their jokes many times due to my reserved nature. My siblings were the ones who attended all social events and saw the good movies first. My brother was particularly in love with music. I preferred to stay at home to keep my pencils, paper, pantographs and palette company. At some point, I was spending a large part of my free time at home alone, my parents were at work and my siblings were socializing. My parents thought I was suffering from social alienation; they asked my siblings to ensure I went out with them a good number of times. I ended up seeing all the movies and listening to all the music they termed as “cool”. I considered it boring; I would have watched grass grow instead. Our family was not the very social one, we went about our individual businesses and came back to spend time together. The Parkers remained the only family we kept as a friend. We became so close that either family hosted the other on saturdays for dinner. It was fun going to their house, but more fun going to their animal farm, located few buildings away. I developed a strong passion for farming but my doctor-parents infused the medical idea into my head. In my penultimate year in secondary school, all they said started or ended with “when you are in medical school”. The farm boy was being converted to a medical doctor; the artist was being converted to a socialite. I finally got into medical school, my parents expressed so much glee. I adapted to the many hours medical students had to study. All the while, the whole medical thing didnt amaze me but it seemed right for anyone in the family-my sister just finished with an MD while my brother was in pursuit of his BDS. Getting involved in socials for five years had reduced the time I had for drawing from hours to zero; I hadn’t used my paper and pencil at all in three years and medical school didn’t help either. After my third year in medical school, I had been talking to many people in my class and I didnt feel the same passion they described medicine with. I explained to my parents that medicine did not appeal to me, they thought the stress of medical school was getting to me. They simply joked about it and claimed that I’m capable. I asked a few close friends also but they only made me more convinced I needed help by telling me how much fun it was to them. In my fifth year, I made up my mind that I needed to talk to a neutral person, probably someone I did not know. I booked an appointment with a counselor and on the day, I assumed help was a grip away. She seemed so bent on convincing me to be a doctor, she kept telling me to consider the years I had spent. I left her office sad, she was like them all because she didn’t understand. As I walked out of her office, I noticed a very colorful flier on her secretary’s desk. I walked closer and picked one. The art in the flier had drawn my attention, there was a connection. That was what took me to THE MAN WITHIN. I got to my room and sighed because I was totally confused. The critical points in my life just played on the screen of my mind. The journey to my room seemed so short but I had thought of twenty-three years. All those things played in my head just after I heard that statement. The good thing was that I picked the one line that made me critically examine my life. I wasnt living my life as me. My whole life had been a combination of peoples lives. Was I ready to live as others for the remaining years I had? I couldnt help thinking of the many other people around that had been influenced or forced to live as others, my brother being one of us. And for these many years, I had been wasting. I left myself about twelve years ago. I have to go back to search for me. The realization is the first and greatest part. The good news is that by realizing I am lost, I can now go to search for me. The bad news is that I am the only one on this search and rescue team and I don’t know how far me has gone.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Mar 2014 13:28:50 +0000
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