Story #40: An Anonymous Note (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Dear you,

I know you are suffering in your own, unique way. I know you have a story, a history and something that gives you pain. I know you have happy moments that you never account for, and sad moments you never forget. I know sometimes you hide your pain and mask your insecurities.
Because I do, too.
But I want you to know that you’re the writer of your own story. All the characters, living or dead, are the people you chose to be with, at that moment. Every episode you experience is influenced by the words you say and the things you do. Just like every turn adds on to you successfully getting to your destination, every choice adds onto making what your life is or will be.
That being said, I don’t want to turn this into a sermon. We all know our choices make or break, but still, sometimes we end up saying and doing things that we shouldn’t have. Negativity fills us up. Things go bad one after the other, repeatedly, and everyone you’ve ever come to love seems to either not care, or be there for you.
But in times like this, I want you to know that you have the power to change your situation. You always have the power to change the situation. I want you to believe that you do.
Two years ago I had reached the lowest point in my life. I fell, hard; everything in my life seemed to be going wrong. I was sad, and I was sad all alone. To be honest, I still am. I haven’t recovered from it, but I’ve stopped thinking about it. I’ve learnt to focus my energy onto better things. I’ve learned to give into my emotions, but not too much. I’ve learned that emotions make you weak, and love makes you vulnerable. So I have tried to keep them both as far from myself as possible. I’ve come to know that I am alone, and that no matter what, friendship is, in the end, a beautiful illusion we distract ourselves with. Years spent in school together, times spent laughing, and sleepovers: they all dissolve into ego, selfishness and stop to exist. So I’ve just come to terms with the fact that no matter how much I may love people, they will never love me back as much. I will never be enough for anyone, and that is okay because people always have expectations, and expectations always lead to disappointments. 

This may appear to be a very pessimistic view of life, but I swear, I’m a very happy person and a self proclaimed optimist. Although, I believe now I’m turning into a realist. A realist who knows her flaws well; a little too well to hate them. A realist who for quite a long time didn’t look into the mirror because she hated the sight of her face. Anyway, I’m telling you this because I want you to know how I feel better about myself. 

I try to spread happiness. Try to. There’s something very satisfying in seeing someone smile; more so when I’m the reason behind it. So I don’t really care if its over something silly, or a story I just concocted. I just want to make people laugh. Maybe, I think, making someone happy is my way of making myself happy, because I never seem to be able to do it directly. Also, random acts of kindness. You have no idea how wonderful they make you feel. Wish the person who guards your front gate, buy the balloons from the little boy selling them at the red light, compliment your friend who’s insecure about her looks that she is beautiful, tell your parents you love them; there are so, so many little things that you can do that can literally brighten up someone’s day. They feel good, you feel good: it’s a win-win situation!

I know this because these are the things that no one ever told me. I also know this because I know it works. I wish someone would’ve been kind to me back at a time when I felt weak. I was still in school. I’d been crying for last thirty-five minutes in the toilet; that’s how I used to spend my lunch breaks. I’d stopped washing my sore, red eyes because I knew nobody cared enough to ask me what was wrong. This happened again, and again over different time periods in my life so far (I’m big on public crying, lol.) I’ve had multiple panic attacks inside fully crammed metros, and not one person has had the guts to ask me what was wrong. My point here is, in situations like this, people are afraid of being kind. Why? I don’t know. I just hope the people who are reading this aren’t the ones to turn their heads away when something like this happens. 

I want you to do one more thing. If you absolutely hate your existence, or you’ve just been experiencing bad things one after the other, do this: when you lie down at night, close your eyes and just say thank you to the universe for everything that exists in it for you, or rather facilitates your existence. Start with twenty things. The list will expand, day after day and you will realise the thousands of things that you need to be thankful for. I do this exercise at times when I feel that nothing is working out for me anymore, and it just makes me feel that I have way, way more things than I account for, and that my existence is magnanimous. 

I’ve babbled for quite a while now. I just want you to know that your life will go on; you are a unique, wonderful human being who is here for a purpose. I want you to know that right now is all you have. Smile. You’re allowed to cry. Let it out. Love. You will find love, inevitably, but for once try letting love find you? Everything good that is meant for you will come to you in good time. 

I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. 
I wish you well.


P.S: I listened to this song when I was going through a very low point in my life. It made me cry, a lot, but I also felt really better. I want to add it on here, because, I don’t know, maybe if you too are going through something bad, this could help. I hope it does. 

A Little Too Much (Shawn Mendes)

I cannot believe this is the last time I writing this after-note!

We all at some point feel exactly like the writer has described in the episodes of their life. Sadness, dejection, disappointment and what not. But really, true happiness lies in making others happy- be it through lame jokes (if you’re like me) or acts of kindness. These words have really struck a chord in my heart, and I think I will come back to this story, again. I hope the words have resonated with you just like they did with me. 

On that note, I declare The Anonymous Anecdotes Project as closed! I’m so thankful to everyone who’s contributed and/or read the stories; be it one, two or all forty.

Loads of love!


Any opinions, comments or ideas that you may want to put forward to the writer of this story can be mailed to me at Positive feedbacks and constructive criticisms are more than welcome. 

(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns.)



Story #24: The Last Time He Was In My House (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

The story is about my family. My dad is a patient of Bipolar Disorder. For those who don’t know what it is: it is a manic or depression phase that may last week or months.

I don’t know why but whenever this happens my dad usually indulges in a fight with my mom or sometimes with my sister or with me and I have been seeing it for a long time. When I was a kid I remember we had to stay at our my mother’s house for a while so that my dad doesn’t hit my mom again. My mom is a strong woman and a single earning parent too. My dad hasn’t really been my dad neither mentally or financially. My mom is a home tutor and she has been managing all the things, all of our expenses except our school fees that is managed by our father brother’s but other than that all of is done my mom. We have been living like for past 20 years but this year something unusual happened in the month of March.

My dad was hospitalised for sugar but after he came home something happened which changed our lives completely and I can’t get over it. I’d just left for college when it happened. I have dog and he is 6 years old and we all love him more than anything in the world. I don’t know about my dad but he doesn’t hate him either. My dog was trying to sit next to my father when my dad punched him right next to his ribs and started crying. My sister couldn’t control her anger and she hit my dad really badly; I know that was wrong of her to hit her dad like that but he really hasn’t been our dad since the starting and we don’t have that kind of affection for our father like we have for our mom or our dog.

But what my dad did was something that no father would do to his daughter. He grabbed my sister by her hair, pushed her down and started hitting her. My mom tried to stop him but she couldn’t; he punched her at least a 100 times. She immediately called the police. My dad left for his shop and that was the last time he was in my house.

We realized that when we were kids my dad hit my mom and we could’t do anything as we were kids. But now, my sister 23 and I, 20 decided that we couldn’t live with our dad anymore. My sister and I immediately went to out father’s elder brother and told him that we wouldn’t let him enter the house. My dad didn’t come but another one of his elder brothers called us atleast 20 times that day so as to convince us to take him home for once. But we could’t take the risk because when he left the house he’d told us that he would kill our dog and we were afraid of that.

My father has a big family and at least 10 brothers and 2 sisters but not one of them called and asked about my sister. All of them were only trying to convince us to let him enter the house once but we knew that once he entered he was not going to leave. I was very angry on my dad. I couldn’t control my anger. I wanted to beat my father but we didn’t see him for a week or two. The thing was that no one knew about the thing which my sister did- we didn’t tell anyone about that except my mother’s younger brother and his wife. My dad called all of my mother’s family and all he did was say shit like how much your sister would take to leave my house, abuses against my family and a lot of shit. He didn’t even have a single drop of tear; all he wanted to have the house to him and wasn’t sorry at all.

He came back once after 2 weeks, but I guess he didn’t even say sorry at that time. He only came because his elder brother had convinced him to go but we didn’t let him enter then. His brother came and tried to convince but my mother, my sister and I didn’t listen to him. We gave his things to his brother and our father left.

Seeing him go like that made me think that I should go and get him back but I didn’t. My father is now living at our relatives’ house but on a different floor. He gets food, electricity and water but there is no one to talk to him. There is no AC or cooler; maybe not even a bed. Not that I know of, but these things don’t let me sleep.

It has been 3 months and there hasn’t been a single night when I’m able to sleep before 3 or 4 am. All night I think I’m here sleeping in my comfort with a bed, AC and my father has nothing and this thought rolls in my mind over and over again. Sometimes I feel I should get my dad back but I don’t know what I should do. Should I talk to someone about it in my family or not? My family would never be a complete family even if my dad comes back, he always have been a just another person in my family. We don’t love him that much and neither does he loves us but still biologically he is my dad. I somewhere also think that my sister was wrong and that I should get back my father . That is all I wanted share right now.

We come into this world, and spend the maximum amount of time of our lives with our family: no, not the extended one, but the three people in your life that stick with you through thick and thin. The people who have seen you grow and become what you are today. Your parents, and maybe, a sibling.

These are the people who mean the world to us, and when things don’t turn out well with them, nothing feels alright anymore.

I believe what I have drawn from this is to not let go; sometimes as we suffer because of somebody else, all we really see is the pain that we are going through at that time. What we don’t see is the internal battle that person must’ve been going through; perhaps a problem unique to them that is the root of their behaviour (in this case, bipolar disorder.) Maybe I’m saying this because my inherent psychologist is surfacing. I don’t know. I just think empathy is important, but not at the cost of someone’s self respect. 


(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns. If you’re interested, you can send me your story at