Siren — The Most Misunderstood Feeling
I still feel it, but now I know what it means
In class 6th, as I step onto the stage to speak in front of other students, a long queue of every section of every class, each pair of eyes staring and glaring at me, I feel it.
In class 10th, the night before the first board exam that is supposed to decide your destiny, I feel it.
During college, before messaging my sentiments to the girl I like, I feel it.
During my first job, when someone pulls me into the localized group of folks dancing to the high-tempo high-energy sounds of dholak, trumpet and other musical instruments at my friend’s wedding, I feel it.
The night before my wedding day, I feel it.
An hour before my dream job interview, I feel it.
Ten minutes before my first standup comedy open-mic performance, I feel it.
Before clicking the submit button to publish my article, story, poem, or opinion, I feel it.
Despite my life experiences teaching me that it is normal to feel that, my limbs go cold and my mouth dry during every next experience. The feeling becomes milder with time as I tackle it in every experience but the feeling remains, it never vanishes. A fraction of it always remains, as a souvenir, a battle scar, a reminder of maturity and acceptance of oneself.
People call this feeling fear, anxiety, or discomfort. I call it a siren. It warns me against the danger of rejection and failure. It took me more than two decades to realize it was just a warning, not an ultimatum. It tells us to be cautious, not cowards but I misunderstood it.
Fear of facing people and major life decisions will always remain, I can’t change that about me. But I try to remind myself every time that it is not fear but a signal to be alert (not anxious), firm (not feeble), calm (not cowering), and playful (not paranoid). It is an invitation to take that next step in life with no intention of turning back.
