I have a wiser self.
The one that acts as the soothing inner voice when I miss an exit on the longest highway. The one that asks me to check my heart on the mirror once in a while and fix the flaws, not hide them.
The one that tells me to live silently, work on things that matter in the mundane world. The one that suggests me to be a true friend to friends and to be present in each others’ lives, for years, not for a month or a year, not only on Facebook.
The one that motivates me to work hard, walk my talk, even when my tired knees want to rest for a while. The one that makes me forgive occasional liars, pretending-well-wishers, because life’s short to nurse animosity and hold grudges. The one that gives me a big thumbs up when I move on quickly and look back for a couple of quiet glances.
The fact is: I was not always good to my wiser self. Not in early twenties, not even before that. I hardly listened to her while running with the flow. I wanted to be that cool girl, not that wise girl.
The fact is: that’s everyone’s story. Until your wiser self overpowers everything else. Until you are proud of her.
There comes a point in life, when you sit with a cup of tea at 2 AM and browse over some moments of your past. Those constant big moments, when life was about “right now or never”, about writing a status update, about keeping up with people’s idea of perfection, about the failure that seemed bigger than its actual size.
You notice how, after a while, life changed its meaning. You get captivated seeing how life happened at its own pace, in silence, in the small moments, and in afterthoughts. You sailed through the low time. You climbed up a few hills. Then again climbed down to continue a long marathon. It was unending, complicated, yet your most precious journey. You were wise, at times, at some decision makings, some changes, during your loneliest phase. You were not the person with a highlighter pen anymore. You were slowly becoming the person with a pencil and an eraser, taking notes over erased mistakes, knowing the impermanence of large things.
With a cup of tea, the wiser self continues to be your 2 AM buddy.
I am not always my wiser self.
I have my flaws, imperfections, and different versions of a less wise self: the one that prefers reading a magazine over exercising in gym, the one that does not want to forget bad experiences and forgive people who caused them, the one that is lazy, the one that wants to eat junk food almost every other evening, the one that is not always brave, the one that does not hold the tongue, the one that worries more and tries less.
The truth is, she will be there too, fighting the wiser self, or hiding powerless. I have to consult with both of them for a forward motion. One will hold me back. One will give me a solid push. That way, maybe I’ll
find create the right balance.
Every year, when I have my turkey sandwich and make a gratitude list, I thank my closer circle. Readers, who read what I write. Friends, who make my smile wider. Parents and sibling, who don’t stop loving me, even though I’m not always lovable. Spouse, who is the best friend. Books, that broaden my boundary. I’m fortunate to have them in life.
This time, I want to thank my wiser self too. I can reveal her to the world without any doubt. I am grateful to her. For giving me company when I chose not to go with the flow. For showing me light at the end of the tunnel. For guiding me. For living with me. Especially this year, the hardest one till date.