I Am A Hyper Sensitive Person, And I Am Not F*cking Possessed!
As being hyper-sensitive is not a disease, but a cure to hatred.
I was almost a child bride. And the deficit of parenthood, refrained the healthy structure of my childhood. My sense of worth weighed little lower on the scale, especially If it came to criticism.
To sum up, I was epitome of confusion when I entered my husband’s home. Given that I almost crossed my adulthood, and my husband was little younger to me. While he comes from a space of an obedient patriarchy, one like Ottoman empire. I came from a mixed environment, a little liberal and faithfully orthodox. So both of us were a fatal cocktail. We actually played a game, home-home. The game was cool at night, because the testosterone and estrogen played exceptionally well.
But the transition from bedroom to drawing room was an uproar.
As I couldn’t take the normalcy of a disciplined house hold, that was ruled by a greater patriarch.
I was damned for being over reactive, volatile and explosive.
And surely I was!
I howled, cried and finally withdrew into a not-very-cozy nook of his house. It took days for me to get my crushed heart to normal. And because he loved me dearly he’d tell me to be docile, compliant and God-fearing. Also society-fearing, because I come from Southern-Asia.
And my society clearly has inscribed rules that a girl shouldn’t be expressive and out-spoken of uncertainties, doubts involving those uncertainties. My husband also pampered me saying that though he was younger to me he had a way better understanding of life and relationships. He thought my disorderly impulses were the product of my unruly and parentless childhood. So I was often respectfully shamed for coming from a space of orphan-hood.
Even his parents with good-hearted intentions would encourage me to keep my emotions understated. The idea that I was behind every ruckus in the household fossilized in my mind so strongly, that I started numbing my emotions and pains of humiliation, rejections on regular basis.
How you’d wonder?
Though very painful, I unquestionably accepted that I was Hyper Sensitive person, and that my hyper-sensitivity brought tremors of high on Ritcher’s scale in my otherwise placid household. So I have to change myself.
I remember the first few days, I felt like my heart was gaged, in spite of my sincere efforts, I failed miserably.
I was again damned!
I took it. Because I wanted a normal life for me and my husband, and I was being highly abnormal.
However exterminating it felt to keep my emotions in my mind and body, I treasured them inside. not letting them diffuse out of me.
But condition worsened. One point of time I was taken to Faqeer baba to rule out if I was under the spell of some scandalous djinn.
The Faqeer baba had weasel eyes that flickered with every chant he threw on me, and had a tangled beard that could house number of chidiyas or Maynahs.
My husband’s mother, sycophantly whispered that there was certainly something evil that has possessed me, because I reacted and responded, and offended every little “normal” and customary talks.
I agreed.
The mystic baba sat me down near him and told me all about the Djinns and their modus operandi. He told that some of the notorious ones lacked head, they only had torso. He said that I was under a heavy spell of them. While I was acting mad because he controlled my senses.
My mother in law, cried silently knowing that the wife of his most loved son was also passionately loved by a formidable head-less Djinn.
The Faqeer baba pulled out a Mor-Pankh-broom(Peacock feathered broom), and hit it hard on my head. It hurt hard on my skull, but my MIL whispered not to scream. Or the baba will leave me half-treated. Which was even worse.
He talked in hushed voice about the lawless Djinn that had been in love with me, he also gave some taweez to burn and some to put under my pillow to cure one sided love affair. Also asked us to visit him every Thursday for the treatment.
Further there were precautionary measures to be taken, I wasn’t suppose be under the sky from twilight to dusk, I should not make love with my husband while the ongoing treatment, or this Djinn’s jealousy may aggravate and leave me lunatic, literally howling at the moon.
After initial obscurity, my compliances were declining. I was now more volatile and tearful. I thought I was a abnormal piece of shit only to be loved by the Djinns, and not my husband who’s love and touch, now my young heart ached for.
In my room I rummaged crazily for the signs of my occult invisible lover. I thought I was being punished for some reasons, that I failed to see.
And my Hyper-Sensitivity inclined astronomically.
***
Cut to present.
The journey of recognizing my personality and accepting that I am a HYPER SENSITIVE PERSON, A HSP, was like walking on burning coals. And it’s an ongoing journey, while I still sulk over a sharp inhuman castigation and blows by other humans, I still grieve over the death of an unknown person. I still can’t be crafty and give a calculated diplomatic reply.
My face is the mirror, very transparent, the colors of annoyance and dislike are brightly seen on it.
Instead of dealing with leg-pullers and haters, I stay away.
Because now withdrawing into that cozy-sofa of self pity is the Djinn with whom I’ve long cut my love-ties.
Yet I am highly empathetic and a sensitive person, and I am not f*cking possessed.
