Every now and then, someone’s casual remark sets off a thought in your head. Well that happened to me recently. A colleague often casually accuses me of “loving drama” although I haven’t liked to be associated with the word for the longest time because of my myopic understanding of the word. But one evening, it triggered off a bout of introspection.
In my limited world view, I had put drama as a negative connotation. The dictionary defines it as an interesting or intense conflict of forces leading to interesting situations. Blame it on some childhood trauma and an unhealthy, emotional roller coaster ride of a teenage relationship, my aversion to drama and conflict had become overpowering. I had evolved into this person who had started to slowly slot “feeling” into drama, constantly over-rationalizing everything into logical conclusion. Read emotionally stunted.
I spent years watching couples fight, throw things at each other, stay up at night fighting, heard of a woman who burnt her cheating boyfriend’s crotch (he had it coming), abusive relationships – all the time rolling my eyes at the drama. I had become short sighted to not include the drama that brought a smile to someone’s face at the most random moment, the drama that kept two souls up at night sharing memories, dreams and laughter. I had missed the drama in the ecstatic joy felt in both giving and receiving a surprise from a loved one, I had missed the drama in the tears shed when you get separated from a loved one. I had missed the drama in feeling butterflies in my stomach. I had successfully locked myself away into a completely left brained existence. I had stopped feeling. And I had been stupid enough to take pride in that. How can you “over-think” “feeling”? Don’t ask me how but I did it and I applauded it not realizing how handicapped I was making myself.
A writer’s soul was the universe’s gift to me, the pure torture of detached attachment to everything and nothing. People have intrigued me always, what makes them, what breaks them, what makes them tick and what makes them want to rise again. I have fancied myself free-spirited, adventurous and fun-loving. But I would carefully drop the “dramatic” tag, even when I was. Avoidant much?
I had gone from hopeless romantic to the gloomy cynic under a façade of sardonic humor. But one can never defy one’s true nature. The universe makes sure of that. In retrospect, even at my most cynical moments, I have always attracted drama, in the friends I have made, the people I have wanted, the people who have wanted me. The bunch I truly call friends in my life are a passionate, spontaneous, adventurous, authentic and dramatic bunch – each in his or her own way. And I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, quite a handful as they may be, they are magnificent. While I have hidden behind rational practicality for the longest time, when I look back I have been the happiest when I have done something spontaneous, made a “dramatic” gesture or such like because it made me feel something. I have been the truest to my real nature in those moments far and few as they may have been.
But of late, everyone has become a stickler about playing it cool and being chill in friendships and relationships or you are doing it wrong. In a day and age where the one who cares less is winning, who is doing the loving? Where is the real overwhelming passion that moves mountains? What follows is a soul less generation of degenerate debauchery, swiping on a screen, wanting to be held and touched by a stranger who they feel no connection to because hey who wants the drama of having someone who actually gives a f***out of fear of being hurt. And loneliness they can’t seem to shake off. But they will be too cool to admit it as well. I tried to play that game which grew old quickly. I got B-O-R-E-D.
And then it dawned on me. In a time, where we are all grasping at straws to maintain a semblance of sanity by withdrawing into fearful loneliness, projecting facades, pretending to fit in, it is revolutionary to be honest with the world and yourself, to be authentic enough to embrace one’s own demons is dramatic, genuine caring and effort without expectation from another is dramatic. Being real is dramatic. Being real is acceptance, an ability to balance the emotional with the rational, to feel. Finding genuine connection and investing in that no holds barred is dramatic.
I am done trying to fit in. I am done denying my true nature. I want the happiness I feel with spontaneity, adventure, the passion and the ecstasy and I don’t want mellow and boring. If it comes with a little hurt, hell one shouldn’t sell oneself short, survived so far didn’t I? As long as no one is getting literally get burnt or being emotionally manipulated, am with the drama. I am all for the drama, unapologetically. Because if one doesn’t allow oneself to get hurt, one won’t allow oneself to truly love and be truly loved in return as a friend, as a sister, a daughter and a lover.
It’s worth taking a chance for and all that drama. I never did fit in anyway. Also nothing feeds the writer’s soul like a dose of drama. That’s what the dramatic ones tell me anyway! 😉
Embrace the chaos. Embrace the authenticity. Embrace the madness. Embrace the Drama.