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Peril and Laurels of being Self Curious
All human beings are supposedly curious about themselves and being so for others. Yes, the latter is always more enjoyable and rewarding; you always have some gossip about that pesky cousin of yours or that overachieving colleague. See here, too; I am swayed to go to the latter path; isn’t it always juicier? But with great control coming back to self. Being self-curious has its perils, though. You tend to overanalyse everything, being the first of it all.
You are that youngster who observes and notes about yourself and others, intending to improve. You might remember an instance that the other party would have just fully forgotten. So, there is too much information, which can get jumbled up and, most times, become a burden on oneself.
You are the one who devours self-help books, which every other famous person suggests, with the hope that you will progress with that. That was me in my teenage and twenties. Ofcourse, those principles do help, but sometimes you can get idealistic in certain circumstances. For instance, I read “The 5 Love Languages” and sat in front of my partner with a questionnaire to find ours. I was bemused by his responses, disheartened, and even doubted if there was love here. The most impractical thing I had taken up was to realise that not all things can be textbook-driven. Especially things of heart.
