Being Reserved

Being Reserved

Growing up I’ve always doubted myself in everything I can think of. There was never a single time where my first thought was of positivity. I’ve always seen myself as a downcast, one who have been overthrown or desolated. My mother have always encouraged me to think positivity because “God have not given me a spirit of fear but of power, love and of a sound mind”- 2 Timothy 1:7. However having all these advisers and encouragements never really made a difference. I still grew hating myself, doubting myself and it came to a point where I was beginning to wreck myself.

Being a downcast was never easy. I hardly spoke to people, not because I had nothing to say but simply because I was afraid. I was afraid of what they might have thought about me, what their responses would have been and also what the outcome would be. There were many different challenges that I encountered throughout my teenage life. Some were being lied on, cheated on and walked upon. If you aren’t careful, people can get on every single nerve cell that makes up your body and this can allow you to sink deeper into that hole you’ve dug for yourself.

In my world, being quiet is the safest way to play it. Growing up in a Christian family has both advantages and disadvantages. Sometimes it seems easier to build a relationship with the world because there’s always a place for the broken; Always! It may not be the healthiest or the safest place and you might end up being more broken than when you went into the world but all that was important was knowing that there were people like you.

Being reserved means being slow to reveal your emotions or even opinions, which describes me perfectly. For some strange reasons a lot or people have issues with “us” who are reserved. They think that we’re the bad ones as the saying says, “silent rivers run deep”. In my case that wasn’t true. I am a good person, I have dreams like everyone, I have feelings, emotions, ideas and even bad thoughts like everyone else, but what sets me apart is the fact that I hated expressing myself.

 Coming to the US my parents told me that I would have to get out of the shell I was in. They said that I couldn’t go through life not talking to people. This made sense to me but was the most difficult task I’ve ever had to accomplish. I chose Culinary Arts as my major, because I loved the idea of food being an art. My emotions started to run wild when I met my teacher. I thought to myself that she looked strict and probably she would be the one who pushes me to talk and to participate in her classes.

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