Self-sufficient

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I have many shortcomings ever since I was young. Maybe it was an idea that was planted in my mind. I was the youngest among my siblings, at least 6 years apart. Whenever my dad asks me something, I’d say “I don’t know“. I didn’t say it to spite him; it was really because I didn’t know the answer to the question he asked. I was young, and lacked self-confidence. Or rather, I didn’t learn how to be or knew what it was. I was labeled as a shy person because I didn’t dared ask questions or give answers they needed to know.

Because of that, I developed a need for independence. I was afraid of asking questions, so I search for answers myself. I depended on my own abilities to seek out explanations and justifications, enough for me to complete certain tasks or whatever my random mind conjures.

The people I’m friends with or work for may misunderstand this as ‘smart‘ or ‘bright‘. But really, it’s all just a way to cover up my weakness.

Another way I do is I unconsciously surround myself with friends that are certainly not afraid to speak out their minds. They’re loud, charismatic, smart, and most importantly, funny as hell.

If I was a knight, my girl friends would symbolise my sword. They are the strongest beings I have ever met; both physically and mentally. They don’t need a man to rely on for strength. They are self-sufficient. And they protect me in ways, many I probably didn’t know they have.

Because of my shortcomings, I developed a ‘formula’ or a standard to live. I can’t always need someone else to help me if I need one. I can’t always expect that they will always be there for me. Above all, I can’t let my past experience doubt my actual abilities.

Also, because of this, I simply cannot accept it when others need help without trying it on their own. Where’s your strength? Where’s your independence? Where’s your confidence?

I’m not saying asking for help is shameful and wrong. I’m asking whether you acknowledge your abilities before giving up or not?

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Nice to meet you

between the age of 13 to 16, i have always wanted to know what kind of person am i. it was a strange feeling. i knew i loved my mum’s cooking but i didn’t know what kind of food i love to eat. i knew that i enjoy being around my friends, but i didn’t know what qualities or the mutual interests that kept me with them. i knew i love love, being in love, seeing love, but what is it about love that attracts me?

between the age of 13 to 16, i was a hunter. i needed to know who i am and what made me happy what make me unhappy. i would take tests after tests to find out what my personality is. how i was described in words. during that time, reading about horoscopes was popular. i didn’t really believed what it said would happen about my love life, work, luck and health. but it did made me feel like i’ve gotten closer to understanding what kind of person i am.

then i found out there’s such thing called the 16 personality test (essentially the Myers Briggs test), which revolves around 4 types: Analysts, Diplomats, Sentinels, Explorers. and from these four, they’re branched out to 4 more types. you’d have to go through a number of questions for the system to accurately pinpoint what kind of personality you have. (i’ve take the test twice and got INFJ both times. tell me if we’re personality buddies!)

and you know about the test you see in Facebook. the “what’s your dominant personality trait?” “which Disney Princess are you?” “how sensitive is your OCD radar?” to name a few.

during those years, i felt so lost. i didn’t know who i was. i felt like i didn’t have an identity that people can remember me by. “what’s so special about me that others don’t already have?“. those tests helped a lot, but i was able to stop asking myself those questions and started feeling more confident after i came to a point where enough is enough. i had to stop questioning my existence. i stopped needing acknowledgement from other people, and made mine the highest priority. i made myself see and accept who i am.

it’s a process, a journey.

i stopped beating myself up for my mistakes because those mistakes doesn’t define what kind of person i am. i am human. even if i was an animal, a plant, whatever living thing in the world, mistakes are inevitable.

i’m 24 years old this year. i’ve gained 3kg in the past 2 months. i love chocolate and cheese – even more if they’re combined. i’m really bad at small talks. i love talking about life and philosophical topics. i find it difficult to meet new people. i’m afraid of the dark. i love staying home to cook and other domestic stuff. i’m not uninterested nor angry when i’m quiet, just tired. i have a resting bitch face but i assure you i’m quite friendly.