Why this two-letter word sounds scarier than any other in possibly all languages of the world, is something I often find difficult to comprehend. Not just saying it (that’s for another time) – but alternatively receiving it in response to that which might’ve already been hard to verbalize. I get it’s not “just a word,” it’s more of an entire package of rejection, lost opportunities, a cycle of self-doubt, and so much more that can mess with one’s being. Yet you know what else has been awfully disrupting my inner peace and mental sanity lately?

The WHAT IFs. They’re the worst!

I keep putting off things I’ve always wanted to do, in fear of hearing those 2 letters. But then the What Ifs still take up space inside, and they’re not “just what ifs” either. They’re extensive scenarios that my imagination usually has no limits for, ones that are never even slightly close to what might happen in real life. They’re noise, a lot of noise, convincing me of all the reasons why I shouldn’t go for it. When deep down, there’s another voice that’s being so inhumanely silenced in the process – one that desperately wishes I could just.give.it.a.try. Every chance it gets, it takes my mind to an irresistible space, showing me where I could possibly end up in, if only I try. Yet I’m so brutally dragged out of it, as soon as some other part of my brain decides it would rather continue protecting me. And it’s in this unasked for wrestling match that keeps taking place inside, that I’m unable to “enjoy” the lack of rejection I’m already getting by never initiating anything. Because shushing the “what-if-it-actually-works-out?” voices is soooo much harder.

I’m a firm believer in; if you never ask, the answer will always be no. But this is not about the possibility of Yes-es. This is simply about the very brief, yet very powerful moment of silence that follows getting an(y) answer. The moment that puts a definite end to that whole disastrous tournament occupying very intense slots all through my days, including a large portion of my sleep hours. Either keeping me up, or kicking me right where it hurts whenever I think I’ve successfully escaped reality.

That moment is magical, in every sense. Because I often don’t even get to the “I-told-you” part, where one side celebrates winning over the other. Nope, it’s usually a moment where everything inside gets to take a much-needed breath for the first time in the longest while, and none of them even has the energy for an after-argument.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I think I’ve now reached a point where going forward, I’d willingly choose to be exposed to that no-package, if it means I’ll stop experiencing the intensity of the what-ifs, for even a few seconds. Rejection just no longer sounds that bad in comparison.