August 25th 2024.
As I was getting ready for bed, I remembered that I needed to check my texts before calling it a night. With a tired mind, I went through each message, laughing at some and frowning at others. Despite my exhaustion, I made sure to reply to each one, feeling a sense of obligation to not ignore them.
This nightly ritual of checking my texts had become somewhat obsessive, all because of something that happened many years ago. Back in 2011, I was starting my first year of secondary school and I was both excited and nervous to meet my new teacher. I still remember the moment she walked into the classroom, a cheerful older lady who introduced herself as Sonal, our class teacher.
Sonal quickly became one of my favorite teachers, especially since she taught my favorite subject, English. However, I struggled with science and she suggested I take private tuition from her. I was flattered to be given her phone number and added it to my contacts list. Soon enough, our communication evolved from random texts about our lessons to full-fledged "good morning" and "goodnight" messages.
At first, I was taken aback by the amount of attention she was giving me as her student. But as we grew closer, I was more focused on the special connection we had. I loved waking up to her texts because it made me feel important. However, as time went on, it became exhausting to keep up with the constant messages.
I would often reply with a simple "GM, miss" or pretend I hadn't seen the messages. But since she was not only my class teacher but also my tuition teacher, I felt obligated to respond. My parents knew about our communication but didn't mind as they saw her as a positive influence in my life.
Then, a month before I was supposed to start seventh grade, Sonal called me and told me she would be leaving the school due to personal reasons. Even after she had left, she continued to send me "good morning" and "goodnight" messages, but our conversations became brief as there was no longer much to talk about.
A month into the new school year, an announcement was made in assembly that shook me to my core. Sonal had passed away that morning. I couldn't believe it. I had just spoken to her the day before. But then, I remembered a message she had sent me a few days prior, asking me to remember her when she passed away.
I had ignored that message, feeling uncomfortable and thinking it didn't mean anything. I was filled with guilt and regret for not replying, and I didn't even attend her funeral as I felt it wasn't right for me to be there. I couldn't believe she was gone and I hadn't even checked in on her health.
For a long time after her death, I made sure to reply to every single text I received, fearing the regret I would feel if something happened to them. I became anxious if I couldn't finish conversations or reply to messages right away. It wasn't until a friend made a joke about being tired of life that I realized the root of my compulsive replies.
I had been carrying the weight of not responding to my teacher's message and feeling responsible for her passing. But the truth is, I was just a 12-year-old who didn't know any better. I couldn't blame her for sending the message, but I also couldn't blame myself for not fully understanding the gravity of the situation.
Today, 12 years later, I am working on breaking this habit and prioritizing my own mental health. I've learned to give myself the benefit of the doubt and not live with regret and anxiety. It's important to check in on our loved ones, but it shouldn't become an obsession. We are only human, after all.
Do you have a similar experience to share? I would love to hear from you. Share your thoughts in the comments below.
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