iEncounter | Introducing A Boa Constrictor Called Anxiety

It is awkward when you know there is a story lurking somewhere inside of you but it cannot seem to find its way out in front of the floodlights. It is awkward because this story - unlike a few from the past - isn’t seeking any validation – not from the Self and neither from the Other. It is awkward because this one isn’t demanding space for a rant either (thank you cognitive psychology)!

This one just is.

This is a story of throwing caution to the wind and dancing to the beat of your own drum. And of having to press your ear real hard to hear that beat above the din of social media’s number game! This is a story of starting and restarting – every single time from the bottom of the ladder. Because there is no such thing as free lunch.

This is a story of being on your own and not feeling lonely (thank you Incidental Comics, Zen Pencils and The Awkward Yeti for adequate doses of inspiration).

This is a story of something suddenly getting switched on, on the inside.
The kind that happens only when you acknowledge – and not just to someone else’s face but to the face in the mirror – that you are here on your own. And there is no right or wrong (yes, only thinking makes it so).

No one ever promised that the path to creative pursuits would be paved and accompanied by an encore. Some paths are akin to trekking those steep inclines, while knees wobble and lungs writhe behind the rib-cage! And the most interesting paths - the ones with stories to tell - are always like that!

Except, in this story there is a boa constrictor; a boa constrictor called Anxiety

A couple of months ago when the boa constrictor first met me, it said that no one would give a damn about my idea on expressive writing workshops. A few days later, it came by again – but this time it said to me patronisingly that the idea itself was far too ahead of its time.
Some weeks later it ran into me again. And this time is slithered around and grazed my legs (very feline-esque. Ugh! Ugh!! Ugh!!!) to let me know that the success of my pilots was nothing but plain fluke!

This story also has a blob. This blob has no name but it resides within the left rib cage. The blob got me introduced me to ‘the imposter syndrome’. I have to admit, it was a pleasure to meet their acquaintance.

The boa constrictor hasn’t given up. On some days, it takes the blob as a hostage.
But the blob and I are working on a plan to tame the boa constrictor.

To know about workshops I facilitate on expressive writing, lookie this link up -

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