Never bring down your own foal.

As a tiny tot, I was praised enough. I was much vaunted and celebrated every day by both my parents, equivocally and I often doubted if they wanted to match wits for who praised me more as if they needed to impress me! But anyhow, I was bucketed with adulation just like funfetti on a three-year-old’s cupcake. The funfettis so many, that they would transcend my sobs for a lifetime of supply one day.

I remember each time my six-year-old self would poetize, the four liners on everything in and outside of my closet, oozing sentiments and animate, my parents would pull the plug on everything they were doing, sitting down next to me, taking a dekko at each and every line, lock, stock and barrel, and never failing to tell me how sublime it was. As happy as a clam. This would happen for every other thing as well, like dancing in front of any and every guest, painting flowers from my garden, attempting to make the perfect tea each time I would vex my mother, and also for mere existence. They were and still are my hype squad. Just the two people who made me feel “out of harm’s way, that if ever I made a mistake, they will never be let down, they will still be my hype team! My sanctum sanctorum. My pennillions were undoubtedly the most bizarre amalgamation of unhewn and cliché, when I wrote about the balloon seller, flower, moon, sun, birds, and mountains. I agree these were not in my closet, but I would build castles in Spain while idling inside the same closet, my fertile sanctuary. Despite how ordinary the subjects were, they were lauded.

While growing up I heard about why I should be nitpicked to be prepared for the outside world, why I must be pushed to stand first in my class and why I should be told that even if what I did was great, I could do better. And I remember how unflappably, my parents would stump each one of their opinions. I was motivated to do my best in light of the fact that my worth will not be decreed by what I do.

I grew up and flew out of my oasis. Just like everyone said, I met people who marginalized me, and told me I could never do better. I have perched on a pile of rejections more than I have been to a salon to get my eyebrows trimmed. I was laid off, and soon after I was ghosted by the same company. This reminds me I have been ghosted for quite some time, and the reason could be “karma, what goes around, comes around“, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I have been in a place where I woke up in the morning, scrolling through my email, found at least a dozen regrets from employers, and babbled “Tell me something new” while getting out of my bed to make another cup of coffee. I am no different. But after living through both heaven and not-so-heaven of my world so far, I have realized how imperative the glorification of my trivial work was. Each overboard compliment, each minute of attention to my ordinary craft, they were so priceless. They built me into the person I am today. You try to beat me down, you cannot. I will get back up in a wink because I grew up in a place so safe and certain, that my self-esteem is much stronger than my own fears, which are rather very few. My self-worth is not dependent on outside plights, because I am bastioned to think “I AM WORTHY” and “I AM ON MY OWN PATH”. Also, just like you cannot spoil your child with love, you cannot with praise too. So don’t be a miser, let them fight the world with you by your side. Not by, you become, one of their battles to win!

One of the many lessons I wish to imbibe and raise my kids with.
Build them so strong from within,
That nothing can tarnish their soul.
Give them the safe home they need,
and just for the sake of grooming, never bring down my own foal.