Often times, self-doubt can be the barrier for someone from knowing their true self, what they want in life and prevented them from fulfilling their potential to achieve greatness. Being pre-occupied with the voices in one's head is a distraction, whether constructed by a mind desperate to escape from facing the truth or a heart, that has shrunk too deep to brace the challenges of life. In turn, we tend to hide parts of ourselves that are worth embracing for fear of our own vulnerabilities. I am, myself,  are guilty of these traits. 

The truth is there is always more to me than what I have discovered in my 25 years (and four months) of life but I have persistently let doubt takes over every time there is an opportunity for self-discovery.  Over time, it has become an integral part of me, a 'normal', part of me. 

An unexpected encounter in the middle of last year forced me to open my eyes and admit that the traits, as described above, are blocking the door to progress in my life. Imagine having someone, who was at that time a stranger, tell you that you are 'fucked up in the head' though you might look normal from the outside. Imagine having to look into the mirror he hold up and instead of seeing yourself, you see an unrecognisable being, rough and hollow, frozen to the core, begging you to ask, Is that me?

“When a woman is frozen of feeling, when she can no longer feel herself, when her blood, her passion, no longer reach the extremities of her psyche, when she is desperate; then a fantasy life is far more pleasurable than anything else she can set her sights upon. Her little match lights, because they have no wood to burn, instead burn up the psyche as though it were a big dry log. The psyche begins to play tricks on itself; it lives now in the fantasy fire of all yearning fulfilled. This kind of fantasizing is like a lie: If you tell it often enough, you begin to believe it.” ― Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Having discovered this quote recently, I realised that That was me. And despite the best interest of the person to help me overcome it, for months, despite myself wanting to change and move on, I wasn't aware that I was still burning my little match lights, my psyche, and it took several incidences where he had to shake, bend and break me to wake me up from the fantasies. Change often comes with much struggle. Perhaps it was my ego, my over-thinking or self-doubt but the realisation didn't take place in a day--it was months, much longer than what was expected of me.

At times when I'm forced to deal with the issues, it feels like I'm in a surgical procedure where each and every piece of me is taken out one by one and washed of the impurities that have warped them like cancer all these years. Every scar from the moment it all started tendered with a layer of stronger, wiser protection before they're finally assembled again to make a living human being. A tedious and painful process, one that requires strength to deter the vengeful voices in my head that keep wanting me to burn the matchsticks.

I guess by now some of you might wonder, what happened to her? For a start, a lot and for a very long time. But what made it worse was the voices in my head that tells me its normal to be fearful and undeserving of success and love. Although I'm not the same person that I used to be last year, there is still a lot of struggle ahead. Reality is nothing like a fairy tale that might end after 10 chapters. Real-life goes on and the struggle is constant. The evil, ugly witch with a pointy hat might not be waiting around the corner with a bag of poison apples just mulling time for you to take a bite. The ugly witch is strong when its within you and the only way it could exist is if you let it. A heart needs its nourishments, it needs to be filled with love, gratitude, courage, spices and everything nice (and Gerard Butler) but if its hollow, dark and weak, the witch will creep in and poison you.

What defines this junction in my life journey is the meeting with the then stranger who now encompass a big part of my life. I remember the time when I told him that he made me feel suffocated and the reaction on his face as he heard it, as if blood just drain out of his veins and his skin melts on the table surface--I remember the countless late-night drive back home after our meetings where tears just flowed from eyes as confusion, anger and frustration seep through my being, with me wishing that I could just use my bare hands to rip them off my heart. Stated in the holy book was the notion that god always notice and hears all prayers--call on me and I will answer--but the reply to each prayer can be different. When I was in my lowest form, months before meeting him, I remember spending so much time praying but not knowing exactly what to ask but the ability to remove myself from the calamity. Far from what I could expect and beyond my imagination, my prayers are now answered. I should consider myself blessed and instead of allowing my ego (mostly) to continue fighting the force, I have to open my heart to accept it.