My Expressive Story

If someone asked me to describe myself, the first word I would say is expressive. I have almost said this so much that I don’t remember a version of myself that wasn’t truly myself. I don’t remember a version of myself that didn’t express how she felt, and didn’t say what she thought.

But if I dive a little deeper to a place of complete honesty, expressive is actually not a word I connected with for a very long time. It wasn’t me at all. And today, I was reading someone else’s story and felt inspired to write down my own — my not-so-expressive story.

The story actually opens frame to a young girl who was pretty much scared of everything — scared of getting hurt, scared of falling, even scared of people sneezing around her. She would actually start crying if a teacher asked her to read aloud in Hindi class. She would actually start crying if she broke a glass. And as she grew up, she didn’t stop being scared. She simply became better at hiding her fear. It was almost an internal battle she fought between facing her fear and judging it.

And just as she thought that her fear was all her mind was obsessed with, she met some other visitors. She met overthinking, insecurity, impulsivity, negativity, even sadness that remained a resident for quite some time.

There were days when her mind felt like it was in complete overdrive… when these visitors were so consuming that she almost felt that she was on a different planet and not sitting in 9A listening to the 3rd lesson of the day on world history.

And if I’m being honest, that girl is still very much a part of me — I have just build a weird kind of friendship with all these visitors — I have spoken and listened to them so much that now we almost understand each other much better than we ever did before. And I know how to respond to them and how much or how less attention they need when they come visiting.

People talk a lot about how hard they have worked to build a brand, a company, even a family. What I don’t hear people talk a lot about is how hard they have worked to build themselves and become who they are today. I have faced so many challenges that were built in my head and aimed at me. It was almost like I was holding myself back. It was almost like I was the biggest critic of my own.

And then… something changed. I can’t say it was this magical day when I woke up and decided that enough was enough. It took longer than that… many conversations with myself, a few distractions, a couple of incredible people who made my internal critic feel unwelcome and of course, my encounter with my soulmate — the arts!

It was just the other day that I was facilitating an expressive arts workshop and telling people the story of how I burst into tears at one of the first expressive arts workshops I ever attended. I still remember it so vividly. I walked in to that session believing in my heart that my life was amazing and I didn’t need therapy or help or even a group session like this. I was a college student and anything extra I would do would add value to my CV so let’s just do this. And then the facilitator asked us to write — she said “write down sentences that begin with I want to let go of… don’t think, don’t stop, just write. Let your mind let it out.” And so I wrote, and wrote and wrote some more. I’m sure that paper is lying in some corner of my room and if you’ll see it, you probably will not be able to read it easily because as I was writing, I discovered that that was something falling out of my eyes and on to that piece of paper. I don’t know how to describe it — but it was almost liberating. To write, paint, scribble, throw things at the wall, move with intention, act, express — a space where everyone was letting their emotional and expressive child out. And I said to myself, “This is so weird. How can just painting something make you feel lighter? How can just writing something make you feel more connected to yourself?”

And that’s when it got interesting — I started finding myself through the arts. I started expressing myself through the arts. I took off masks that I was wearing in a space where other people were also doing the same. My inner child told me “If they can do it, you can do it!” And that’s when I first learnt that for every critic that lived inside me and wasn’t on my side, there was an inner child that believed in me more than anything. There was a girl that saw and lived that light and wouldn’t let me forget it.

I spent many years building an expressive version of myself — explaining to the scared girl that fear can be a friend and you’re not fear’s home for it to stay in forever — it will come visiting you sometimes but it also has to go. I painted my heart out in joy, I scribbled my anger, I moved in sadness, I wrote down my negativity and I created space for hope. I created space for me ❤

There are still so many days when I get scared… so many days when I get overwhelmed… so many days when I judge myself. But the number of days that I am excited, the number of days that I celebrate myself, the number of days that I feel genuine and real — those days are countless.

The journey hasn’t been easy and I don’t know if I will ever feel like my expressive journey is complete and that that word will feel like its 100% of me. I still have days when I hide my feelings and later they come out in all different shapes and forms. I still have days when I judge myself for something small I did or didn’t do. I still have days when I let someone treat me in a way I didn’t deserve. It’s a work-in-progress and my expressive story will never end. But every few months, I feel like I have crossed a milestone. I feel like I have learnt something new about myself that I can’t unlearn. I feel proud of an expressive moment that gave me so much more confidence than I ever imagined.

So here’s to my onward and upward expressive journey— a journey that has been so rewarding in so many ways and a journey I don’t ever want to discontinue… In a sense, I’m just getting started!