Day 315: Listen up!

If the theory that spirits of the dearly departed latch onto us humans from time to time to leech off of our misgivings in  order to cover their "karma" quota and freeload during our good days, holds true, then WHO THE FUCK IS RIDING MY TRAIN?

Look, you! You had your shot and looks like you blew it. You died without making amends. So if you think copping out on rebirth by exploiting my life choices like an ungrateful parasite is going to get you UNIVERSAL POINTS, THINK AGAIN!

Because as I see it, you've no choice but to get your sorry ass DOWN here, to human life, and clean your crusty ass YOURSELF. And THIS time, be more thorough, eh?

This train is no longer serving freeloading passengers. It's going to the yard to be spruced and when I'm done healing I'd like to live the remainder of MY life as MY life -- NOT your unfinished bidness.

Yours  Compassionately (but NOT unconditionally),

TK

Day 35: Help

Today was a day of mixed emotions. From unbelievable stifled energy coursing up and down my body, to period cramps and confusion, to bursting into tears out of nowhere to a tub of butterscotch ice cream to encouraging my friend out of a depressed state.

I think everything I've been struggling with came to a head today and needed release. The tears helped in that release. My grandmother sat sa my side through it all, until I was calm and rested. I'm grateful for her.

The butterscotch ice cream was incredible. After two years of barely going near ice cream, the taste was all-the-more relished.

But the best feeling I got today was when I gave my friend some comfort. Even though I haven't been able to meet him yet, our conversations are stimulating and inspiring. Today he admitted to me that he's has bouts of depression in the past couple of years. This was a special moment for me, because it told me he trusts me enough to share something that vulnerable. I sent him words of comfort and told him I've been there too.

Of course I had to add something cheesy:

"Don't worry about finding rhythm in your life. As Gloria Estefan rightly put it, "The rhythm is gonna get you".


In any case, it was comforting to know I'm not the only one struggling. But moreso that I could relieve some of his burdens even for a few minutes. My shoulders eased too.

I think it helps to help others when I am low. Being able to create a positive change in someone's life, also creates a positive change within mine. It made me believe in better days and a better life for myself too. We are human and therefore we are all connected by the struggles of life. And I think it brings us closer because we all want somebody to help us through them. I hope I can do this more often.

Day 34: Flow

Today, I got my period (on time, thankfully). I think it had something to do with the chakra meditation I've been practicing lately. I have begun to trust the 'flow of life's and I guess life is flowing through me.

And that's not all that's flowing. So are lyrics. As of last night, post meditation, a bulb switched on inside me and there were words!

So I did write a chorus with the words "four Paws and a bad limp" and it turned out quite nice, if I may say so myself. But the wonder that I was experiencing today was something else entirely. I was fiddling with my ukulele to figure verses for the Four Paw song, when something else started playing.

There were words, there was Melody, there were chords and a rhythm. I picked up my ukulele and began to sing. And the words flowed through me. At first I didn't understand what I was singing, and for whom. Or from whom. Then I felt like it's a song for me. From the Inner Me. It was surreal.  So I wrote down and recorded the melody for future reference. And it filled me with joy. It was simple, small and nothing spectaular, for a song, per se. But I  felt some blockage being removed and a river of magic flow through me. Yes, there was blood literally flowing down my nethers, painfully so, but I felt a release. And that is reassuring. I want to embrace the flow. I really want to.


The song (I'll put up a recording later):

"Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.

I'm the warmth inside your eyes.
I'm the creases in your smile.
I'm the home you've always dreamed of
Inside.

Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me."

Day 33: Inspiration

I forgot to post yesterday and only remembered when I was almost asleep. I chose sleep. Plus, I can't really recall what I did yesterday. These days, everything feels like a blur.

Today was especially blurry and frenzied. I was mentally restless and agitated and felt trapped in my sluggish body. Therapy helped me ground myself again and meditating always lifts me. I have to accept the process and listen to my body a lot more.

I finally created a small nook in my bedroom for songwriting and other quiet phrsuits. I opened up my yellow notepad (the only one that inspires songs writing) and waited for inspiration. I have many projects that I started earlier in the year that I could finish but I wanted some thing fresh. I asked a friend to throw any thing at me. A topic. A subject line. Anything.

"Four Paws and a Bad Limp". That's what he wrote to me.

Well, here we go.

Day 31: Activate

I went back to yoga today. It was wonderful. My body was sluggish in the morning but I was mentally ready for some muscular activity and I gave it my best shot. My teacher is wonderful. She knows how to work my body and mind in a way that motivates them to try harder. I accomplished more than I expected and my mind and body feel activated.

The real challenge for me is the follow-through. I'm supposed to practice every day and as history would have it, I'm not very conscientious about the follow-through, especially if I've been out of a routine for a very long time. I'm keen to make this my routine and hopefully stick to it.

I'm excited at the thought of returning to Los Angeles in the Winter. But I'm also weary of constant travel and movement right now. Transition periods can really take everything out of you. But that's what's meant to happen. How else would there be place to pack in new experiences?

I sometimes wonder if in my quest for some kind of anchor I have gotten so used to moving around that moving around itself is my anchor? And what I seek I already have, in my ability to adapt to any life that comes my way? I'm not sure. It doesn't settle me. Maybe what I'm looking for is some place to feel settled. I know, partly, that I won't find it anywhere if I don't have it within me. Just like I believe you cannot love someone fully if you don't love yourself first. If there is no love inside, there is no love to give. If there is no home inside, there won't likely be one outside either. Why am I so terrified of feeling at home with myself? Why am I not enough? What stops me from going home to myself? Is it the fear of realising we are all alone and going to die? Is it fear, even? There are many questions I'm impatient to find the answer of. I know all will reveal itself at the right time. I believe that.

I'm in the midst of learning a lesson. And lessons are learnt with ease, said noone ever.

Day 30: Forward

Today marks 30 days (a month) of continuous posts. I must admit this has been hard. And the next 30 days are going to be harder, as my will to post lessens.

But what I have observed is amazing. I have had something to look forward to, at the end of every day, that I am doing for myself, for a better life, that I am holding myself accountable for. I have nobody to answer but me. And that has given me tremendous motivation to continue writing. This has been the one constant, unchanging activity for the last 30 days, and small though it may be, it has given me a sense of stability. And it has given me time to reflect, to pay attention to everything in my day, to be aware of my thoughts and emotions and to practice not getting swayed by them.

As I continued posting I noticed how I began to look for something positive — anything positive to write about that could help me appreciate my self and my life. Some days have been better than others. Some days weren't so inspired. But everyday, the one positive thing that remained was that I didn't give up on myself. Not just yet. Not today.

Tomorrow I resume yoga. I'm nervous because my body isn't as sprightly as I would have liked. I may not even feel refreshed in the morning. I may not even last the class. But I am looking forward to going. I look forward to tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that too.

I'm looking forward.

Day 29: The Pack

I went over to my sisters' house again. It's a comfort to know they live nearby and I can access them anytime I want, in any state I am.

We laughed a lot. Even in my daze, I felt alive again. We are all going through our own personal struggles but that we could laugh at ourselves and eachother despite that is special. I cherish the relationship I share with my siblings, my brother included. After all the hurdles we have overcome, we are finally a 'pack'. We are unbreakable, unshakeable and irreplaceable. We look out for each other, lean on one another and share ourselves fully. I took my time to join the pack: being a loner. But I'm happy and grateful to say that my attempt to trust and lean on this pack has proven successful and has made feel safe and loved.

And what more does one need, anyway, more than love?

To my 'pack'. I'm always with you, for you and by your side.

Day 28: Daze

The ground swims 'neath my feet.
Like vapors aboved a heated car.

I'm still but also restless inside
I'm here but I want to be far
Away.

Blank as a slate
But wordless thoughts
Scribble away in my mind.

I stare at the clock
In front of me
Hoping for time
To move.

Deep breath in, out
Deep breath in... out...
Deep... breath... in... out...
Deep....... breath........ In.......Out.......
Deep....

Day 25: Busybee

I want to write ONLY positive things today, because I got a lot of work done and I'm fairly proud of myself.

I completed two big steps that take me forward in my visa application.

I'm flirting and chatting with a man who's funny, intelligent, adventurous and light-hearted. And he makes me laugh. Totally what I need. I think we might just become very good friends, if nothing else. I can't wait to meet his dog. 

I snagged a writing assignment for a content publishing company. 400 words per article. As many as I can dish out. It only took me 20 to write one. Guess what's going to keep me busy for the next few days? Oh, I do get paid, but I'm not doing it for that (it's just about enough for cab fare). The work is reactivating my brain, especially because for some reason writing is my art of expression in this phase of life. 

I managed to brainstorm with my sister about her projects and get some insight into my own.

I did 30 mid-air squats today. It could have been yesterday, but I think it was today. Or yesterday. But it happened. 

I released my ex-boyfriend from the hurt inside me. He's human and he did and said only what he knew best. I wish him karma. 

I have begun to love dried figs. Sugar craving re-conditioning achievement unlocked.

This project that I helped my sister with involves me 'acting' in front of a camera for a Web Series. A few years ago, I wouldn't have dreamt of it. Now, it feels natural and I'm being appreciated more than I expected. I've been bitten by the drama bug and am liking the attention and praise.

I also feel blank in my head. Not too many thoughts. It could be the medication. It could be that my mind is just occupied elsewhere - somewhere productive. I like being employed. I feel a sizzle in my batteries. 

Sizzle, sizzle. 🔥

*pat on back*

Day 24: Full Moon

Full moon tonight. I really wished I could go far, far away to a secluded hilltop and howl into the night. Not just because I'm sad, but moreso because it is freeing. Belting out the inner me into the cosmos, the universe, as the moon calls out to me.

Instead, I got extremely agitated with the residual poisonous pesticide smell in my house, which wasn't being pest-controlled in the first place, the wild goose chase I embarked upon in search of medication, which nobody seemed to have or want to give without having it all appropriately accounted for, me getting territorial and aggressive with men who were staring at me from behind in an ATM booth. I mean, it's an ATM booth! Get your own! And stop WATCHING me. I don't think they were creeps. But today just wasn't the day for me. Not to mention slipping and falling in the rain, in front of what seemed like mannequins at the entrance of a building near yet another pharmacy. Good to know you guys had my back, in your heads, at least. Or maybe you didn't see me fall in front of you, struggle to get up, fall again, and eventually crawl to a pole for support. 

I'm grateful that I moved to my cousin's house for the night, was fed warm, simple food, breathed clean air and finally did get a hold of my meds. As I calm down into a zen-like stupor, I look back at the high-octane agitation and realise there really is something about that full moon. Anything that could go wrong, doesn't just go wrong, but horribly wrong in my head. Negativity can be on an amplified high. 

To the men who were in my space at the ATM, you didn't know better, or don't understand the concept of space. I know you weren't creeping on me. If you were, I guess you had a good look and I know if you touched me you would regret it. It's okay.

To the people who couldn't help me with the medication, you looked as much as you could, and it's a hard drug to source. You did your jobs well. Thank you for listening to me, especially during peak time. 

To the drivers who took me all over town, helping me find pharmacies, I'm ever grateful for your patience. 

To the people who could not contain the poisonous pesticide fumes and prevent them from entering our house, I understand now that your olfactory nerves are dead from experiencing this on a regular basis, not knowing that these fumes are harmful. You did not sense the danger and were oblivious. Still, you made an effort to comfort me. Thank you for that, despite not knowing what it was that agitated me. 

To the people who watched me slip and fall and didn't even flinch or show enough concern or help me get up, I guess you didn't want to risk falling, too. I get it. Floors get super slippery in the rain. Save yourself, first. I understand. 

To the last pharmacist who made me wait in the cold air-conditioned shop, agitated and tired, soaked from the rain, thank you for not waiting on me first, and finishing up with the other people, who were there before me. You did sense my urgency, but held your integrity by not breaking the queue. You made the poor man next to me, who had come first,  feel important and special. That made me warm inside.

To the full moon, thank you for letting me howl my eyes out in the safety of my sister's room. I imagine a hill would be cold, isolated and less comfortable to sleep in right now. I recognise your wisdom and salute you for bringing out awareness in me.

🙏

Day 23: Defiant

I don't feel like posting anything special today. It's been a weird and uncomfortable day. I had a moment in the rain but I'm so sleepy yet can't close my eyes that I really don't feel like sharing right now. I don't want to make the effort to find something good today.

I'm only posting this because I committed to writing every day. And for some reason I don't want to give that up. I want this blog to be complete when I heal.

Today I just want to say *#@* to everything and take off somewhere far away in my mind.

Day 22: Too Many Mind

Today my brain feels like scattered pieces of mosaic tiles, strewn across an already uneven ground. Where to look first? What to pick up, what to leave behind? Which colors are brighter? How would I even look at each piece mindfully in one day? And even if I did manage to collect, clean and organise all the pieces, don't I need to level the ground first?

Mottled brain soup, that's what I feel like.

I am, in sooth, over-stimulated right now. Too many events. Too many people. Too many goals. Too many doubts. Too many voices. Too many thoughts. All darting back, forth and every other possible way like busy super-trains.

I'm reminded of this scene in The Last Samurai (one of my favorite films of all time), where Capt. Algren is trying to learn the art of fencing from a senior samurai (and failing miserably at it).

Nobutada, who is watching , as Algren gets beaten down turn after turn, tells him, "....Too many mind."

Algren: "Too many mind?"

Nobutada: "Hai... Mind the sword, mind the people watch, mind the enemy. Too many mind.
(pause) No mind."

This is very powerful. "No mind", is the ultimate state of being, isn't it? To just 'be' in the moment and let the present take over, however it may, knowing you are ready for anything. It's quite relaxing, just thinking about it. To be One with yourself. To be One with Now.

I'm going to let the mosaic pieces stay where they are. I'm going to let everything be. If my mind is scattered and unsettled then so it is. Even unlevelled ground is still Earth I can sleep on.

No mind. No mind.

Day 21: Letter to You

Dear You,

Yes, this letter is addressed to YOU and not me. I want to take this moment to tell you that you are special and magical. There is something beautiful that radiates through you, whether you believe it or see it in yourself or not. I see it.

And when you are in a dark corner and cannot will yourself to get out, remember that you are brilliant and capable of anything and everything you set your mind to.

I know the 'easier said than done' reply. I am not saying I have it all figured out. I'm discovering life too, a day at a time. So even if I cannot tell you how to get out of the dark corner or assure you that everything will be peachy forever, I can say this: you are not alone. There is power in knowing that everyone is struggling with something big or small. And that even if we feel alone or lonely, we are in it together.

I hope this strengthens and comforts you. Know that you are worth the fight, the pain, the struggle and the investment. You are worth every ray of sunshine.

And I love you, as you are, today and forever.

May you be happy.

Tulsi

Day 19: Clarinet Concerto in A Major

Today was a giant leap. Today I told my mother it was okay to leave me to heal on my own -- that it is essential for me to go through this part of my journey alone, and to release my past in a safe manner, withoit any residues staining what we have right nowu

This has been a hard decision to make. Not just because she is my mother and mothers want to help (it's in their DNA to feel protective). Not just because my inner demons were in conflict with my outer reality with her, which I had to face everyday. But also because I had become accustomed to that unconditional love I crave so much and I didn't want to let it go. I wanted to feel it just a little longer, like a warm bath you know is going to cool down, so you lay absolutely still so that your body doesn't feel the change in temperature right away. But the bath cools down, and one way or another, you have to get out of the tub or you'll freeze and shrivel up like a prune.

This was hard to communicate and overwhelming for us both. But I'm glad to say our relationship is strong and we can weather through the period apart as well, even though we will both struggle with the change of temperature in the bathtub. I really do love bathtubs. Time to Step. Away. From. The. Ruddy. Bathtub.

As I massaged her feet before she fell asleep, I began to feel scared, uncomfortable and filled with another kind of incapacitating sadness. (I think we've established by now I struggle with depression and anxiety, so any residual "oohs" and "aahs" can squat elsewhere.)

I was recounting earlier today, the great things I've accomplished in my life time, despite struggling with depression or having anxiety attacks. I've been independent financially, lived on my own, had several jobs I excelled at, have educated myself, loved and lost, loved and won, helped others and sought help for myself, created pieces of art, music and literature and... Well, this is enough to get to my point.

In those moments of accomplishing things, of making that first move, the first decision to become all those things, I went back to the source of motivation. It was fear, more often than not. Fear or pain can be great motivators. Ever feel that burn in your stomach? The fire in your belly that launched a thousand bitter poems, some of which sold and made it to some hall of fame? Maybe that's not the best example. But it sounded cool in my head. Heh, I'm beginning to amuse myself.

I thought of major life changing events that made me who I am. The post on Strong Suits makes these more clear. I went back to that thought. Fear of abandonment? Be independent. Fear of poverty? Earn your own money. Fear of being kicked out of the house? Move out and create your own space. Fear of heartbreak? Don't let them in all the way, and leave first. Fear of not being good enough? Be brilliant. Be excellent. Be talented and skilled. Be proud of who you are.

Okay, the results haven't been all too bad, and I'm not complaining about them at all. And there have been some happy decisions too. I'm pretty happy with my achievements and aware of the decisions that limit me. But what I'm realising now is how I motivated myself to get there. I operated out of some great life-changing traumatic experience that pushed me to create a happier and more secure life. Have I been subconsciously seeking despair to move forward? Has it become a nasty habit like popping blackheads on your nose? (Totally unnecessary, by the way, for those who do this ghastly thing)

Now I am faced with something quite extraordinary. My relationship with my family is harmonious. I'm fairly financially secure. I am independent and on the verge of setting out again on my own. I'm on a dating website where I am appreciated, intrigued and entertained. I'm still talented, brilliant, excellent, beautiful etc. But the next step is hard to take. The step to move on. Move forward. There is no burn in my stomach. No fear of abandonment. No traumatic experience that launched a million song (seriously, that ex-boyfriend has had his quota of break up songs, and I'm over it now). There is The Past. And I'll get past it, in time. But right now, there is no hate. No fire. No calamity for me to need to be a superhero.

There is love. Compassion. Happiness. Security. Support. Space. And I realised I hadn't really ever made a decision or big move out of those things. Not nearly enough times to get used to it anyway.

I'm not looking for sympathy. This isn't my sad, mopey story of suffering and I want flowers and adulation. I'm in awe of this process of evolution, through the trials and the triumphs. I'm in wonder of how these thoughts pass through me at different stages of my life.

Coming back to the point, I am afraid to leave the nest I have left so many times before, because this time I don't have to. Nobody is kicking me out or saying I don't belong here or making me feel like I'm a burden. I'm actually leaving with the desire to pursue greatness with strong, healed, brilliantly coloured wings. I'm seeking to flap them with confidence, with pride, with security and with self worth. And I'm at the edge, from where I get lift off, with my loved ones supporting me, standing behind me, even silently smiling and cheering me on, with glowing pride and faith that I can do this. They will miss me but they will always, always be with me, in my heart.

To jump when I don't have to, but can if I want to, knowing I'll either fly or freefall, but I will be loved either way.

That's a big one.

I'm letting the idea sink in, while I listen to Mozart's Clarinet Concerto in A Major (something my doctor prescribed for me today). I must say, this piece does have some magic in it. And it makes me feel like I can glide over hills and mountains, survey the land with the wind in my face and blessings in my feathers. I'm going to hear this piece every night before I sleep. Doc also said I need to stop taking apart every thought I feel and looking beyond myself. Seems to be the order of the week. Ha ha.

To my family, my close friends and well-wishers, thank you for getting me to the edge and being patient with me, till I start to flap my wings again.

Day 14: See-Saw

I know when times are hard, it's easy to focus on the hard stuff, the suffering, the woes and pain.

When you fracture your finger, I don't know how many of you will notice the pretty bird singing in the tree outside your window. Chances are you're eyes are closed so tight, with yelps of pain leaving your mouth. I admit, I did not notice any such thing when I fractured my finger a couple of years ago. I did, however, have a beautiful dream the night before about a giant old sea turtle who came to meet me and hold my hand (the one with the unbeknownst-to-me soon-to-be fractured finger). It was magical. I digress.

My point is, we often forget to look beyond the trigger, the immediate cause of pain, the injury, wound, open cut - what have you. I'm aware this happens to me too. The interesting thing is, sometimes I'm able to catch this during moments of pain. And in that moment of awareness, I find I'm left with a choice. Do I want to continue to focussing on this pain or do I want to let other things into my peripheral vision as well? Can I possibly appreciate or even acknowledge the presence of other existences, happenstances, possibly good things around me at the same time I feel this pain? I confess, lately, I have chosen to feel the pain more often than not.

This brings me to the question: "Why?"

I think I want to wallow sometimes. Just cry like a child and not have to think about anything or anyone around me but myself. Babies are pros at it. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I'm no longer one. And there are a world of people around me I have to be mindful of.

Also, when it comes to work, or doing something functional, I'm strangely able to put the pain aside and focus on the task at hand. The same thing happens if someone I care about is in pain or in need of help. Yeah, it might sound like I'm a good samaritan or thorough professional. But I've come to realize I use both those things as a coping mechanism for when I'm hurting or stressed.  I immerse myself in some discipline or the other that has a definite outcome which is proportionate to the effort I put in. Or I help someone in need and in somewhat fixing their lives I feel uplifted. This, in turn, helps me to feel in control and secure, when my emotions are the opposite. Sure, work gets done and people are helped - but what happens when I don't have work, and people don't need my help, but I'm still hurting?

I collapse.

I think what I need to find is balance. Knowing when to focus on myself and not run away from it. To be in the moment and be still. And when to focus on what's around me and pull myself out of the Well of Woes, when I slip in. To make small mental and physical movements and unfreeze. Finding that sweet spot when I am riding the See-saw with my emotions and not being higher or lower than them. Just at eye-level, feeling grounded and knowing that we've got each other. 

Most of all, I need to believe that I can do this myself, for myself, without the aid of work or human distraction.

Tough one, but I'm going give it a shot.

Day 12: One step forward

Today, after a long time, I felt an iota of improvement during my anxiety attack this evening.

I could feel it coming, as my mother was driving us home. I was filled with dread no matter how beautiful the lush green fields on either side of the road were, no matter the breeze from the sea nearby, no matter the peace and quiet of our neighbourhood. The dread reached the pit of my throat and began to expand dangerously. I could feel it and began to take deep breaths. I waited for my mother to park, bit could not leave the car immediately. I needed everything within and around me to be still, including my mother. 

I made small movements, like my therapist taught me, first with my toes, then my fingers. I couldn't breathe. I kept feeling like I'm being suffocated by invisible hands. Tears fell involuntarily from my eyes. But this time, I fought to breathe. I tried to sit up straight to give my lungs space. It didn't help. My arms and fingers tightened up. I didn't scream or cry openly this time. I was focused and determined to breathe. I crouched forward into my lap, folded my hands in prayer, with my thumbs to my forehead and said under my breath, "Help me".

A song started playing in my head. Then another. And I wanted more. I managed to mutter to my mother to sing for me. Anything. It didn't matter. Just sing. And so she did. And as her voice carried through the car and the light breeze passed through my window, my breathing stabilized. I slowly lifted my head from my lap. I looked in front of me and saw the cars dashboard. I focused on its color, shape and design. Somehow, my hand broke loose from it's frozen, contortion position and crawled up to the dashboard. I began to run my fingers along it and breathe better. I looked left and right and began to expand my view. My other hand began to move and I began to sit straighter. I forced myself to look at my surroundings and remind myself that I am *here* and nowhere else. That I am safe in this space. That I am in the present. That I can and will breathe. And so I did. 

As my mother finished singing, I was sitting upright, with my hands, relaxed in my lap. My body was completely exhausted, but that expanding lump in my throat had disappeared. 

I know I need more help, and I am going to seek it. 

But for the first time, I had some control over myself and it gave me hope. 

Also my mother has a beautiful voice and it can uplift the darkest spirit. 

Activity for the day: my mother introduced me to a photo-editing software app called SnapSeed. And I learnt how to use the double-exposure filter. I'm pretty excited about this, because I have a theme for my first music album and this works well within it. 

'Ajna'

Day 10: Taking the Suit Off

It's getting harder and harder to post something every day. I'm very raw and emotional and it takes a lot out of me to pen down my thoughts. Thinking them is tiresome enough; writing them down for the world to read is just another hill to climb. I even contemplated giving it a skip today, despite knowing that I have so much to say, and I don't want to give up. Well, here I am again.

So I'm finally going to address this topic I've been avoiding for a while: Guilt. It might take more than one post, but I'm keen to crack the surface.

All my life (up until the past couple of years) I was oblivious to the amount of guilt I've been carrying around. I used to pride myself on not having any regrets, despite the rollercoaster I've been riding since a very young age. I'd say to myself: all these events, people and choices have led me up to this point in my life, and have made me who I am today. And I like me, my life and so -- no regrets. This thought process worked for many years and even helped me boost my self-esteem when things got rough or I was fragile.

Like I said before, curveballs are one thing. Curve-bludgeons are quite another.

But before I go further into the topic of guilt, I need to address another topic, one that will make more clear why guilt has taken centerstage in my life right now.

About 8 years ago, I attended a forum run by Landmark Education. They're a global group that conduct motivational seminars around the world, helping you to find what it is you really want in life, and empowering you with tools to achieve that ideal life. It was pretty powerful and those workshops really did strengthen my resolve to live a more meaningful, wholesome and healed life. It mended a lot of strained relationships with my family at the time and made me feel stronger within myself.

One of the workshops focused on 'Strong Suits'. Strong suits are loosely defined as your strong points, something you excel at or can be noted for, which you use in different areas of your life.
For E.g., the session facilitator asked each of us to list 3 qualities that we thought would encapsulate us as individuals. Three words. Not stories or sentences. Just sum up yourself in three words.

Mine were: 'STRONG', 'INDEPENDENT', 'CREATIVE'. I think these summed me up quite well. My group members came up with their own. When we were done sharing our qualities with one another, our Session Facilitator told us these were our strong suits. We weren't BORN this way, but we had accumulated these skills or sharpened them along the way, to help us cope with life, in a way. We were all surprised and somewhat indignant at first. What did he mean, coping mechanism? Does that mean I'm faking it? That I'm pretending to be creative? That my talents aren't real?

He asked us to take some time to think about the first time we ever adopted any one of those qualities. An instance, an event, something someone said, anything -- it was most likely to have happened in the early years of our lives - somewhere up till the ago of 15 or 16 at best. We really had to dig deep.

And then the memories began to appear in front of me like little glowing bubbles.

STRONG:
I remember an evening in my grandparents' bedroom. I must have been no older than 4 or 5. I was fiddling with my grandmother's writing table and stationery, and out of nowhere my grandfather yelled at me for touching her things. I was so startled I ran out of the room and found a dark corner to cry in. I had never experienced such terror. And my grandfather was a very tall, big man with a booming voice. He could be quite a bully back in the day and everyone feared his temper. I can almost remember the explosion of adrenaline somewhere between my stomach and chest and the immediate impulse to run. That's not the last time I've been yelled at by a member of my family, or been punished for doing something I wasn't supposed to.

Another memory came flooding back: I was 12 years old, when I first registered that I was being touched inappropriately by a man. I had no one telling me what was right or wrong, and no one really knew what had happened at the time. It was something within me that set of an alarm that said, "No, this doesn't feel right. He shouldn't be touching me." And I froze with fear. It took me weeks to muster up the courage to make him back off (which he did). I remember feeling powerless, vulnerable, exposed, insignificant and ashamed for letting it happen and knowing no better. I even believed that I must have done something to deserve it. This is irrespective of the fact that he escaped punishment and I've had to coexist with him for longer than I would have desired. This wasn't the last time a man tried to touch me inappropriately.

I developed a temper at a young age. I began beating up boys and girls at school. I had angry outbursts as a teenager and attempted to 'destroy' people's hearts with my words. I self-harmed, stopped eating and was very destructive for about 2-3 years before I went to college. My rage was uncontrollable. And nobody understood why. In my 20s, I joined a martial arts group and for the first time I felt safe and understood. My rage was channeled into hardcore physical exertion and I became a calmer, but physically very strong woman. I no longer feared being attacked or reprimanded. Nobody could bully or misbehave with me. But I still had angry outbursts - only this time, my ego was my sword. My physical strength made me believe I was powerful enough to destroy people by lashing out at them. And I would. This destroyed me much more than the receiver of my wrath. I still struggled with destructive relationships, but since then have become stronger and wiser. Therapy helped. I became quieter, less aggressive and more contemplative. I made a vow this year never to lash out again in a moment of anger. To respond and not react (unless I'm being attacked, of course). Never to raise my voice again. And I haven't, so I'm quite proud of myself.

CREATIVE:
As a child, I'd always been a bit of a day dreamer. I loved to draw, paint, play music and look outside the window and make up stories. But I fared poorly in school: you know, the subjects that everyone should excel at in order to be a 'success'. I barely followed math. I loathed physics. I like chemistry because I got to mixed things and play with fire. I liked biology because I got to draw intricate diagrams of plants and insects. I wasn't physically fit and wasn't allowed to play inter-school sports because I'd have to wear shorts as part of the uniform. I didn't fit in with the popular kids. I wasn't a smart student, I wasn't an athlete, I wasn't a theater performer and I used to stammer when I was nervous. I was bullied a lot for 'being stupid', 'being fat', 'being ugly' (Yeah, I know, Assholes). But I excelled at Art, Music and Languages. I was one of the only two students who were allowed to remain in the school choirs (both Indian and Western Classical) right up till I graduated. I used to carry my own art kit to school everyday, and help students with their projects. I drew caricatures of my classmates and even the school's principal asked me to make one of him, which he proudly framed in his office. I became the reputed artist and musician. And it suited me just fine.

It was in high school and college that I discovered that I'm actually quite intelligent, when I excelled in all the other subjects as well and took part in several inter-collegiate competitions. And that I'm not ugly or fat, after all, when boys began to fall in love with me. But that didn't matter, because these things weren't my USP. My art was. My music was. So I took them up as hobbies And while I spent years as a magazine journalist, writer, editor and many other things, my heart finally pulled me back to where I was truly happy -- in my art and my music.

INDEPENDENT:

I realised very early in life that money makes the world go 'round. And that you cannot love on an empty stomach. Growing up in a joint unconventional family that had many members with an incomplete education created a lot of tension when it came to paying bills and taking responsibilities of running a household. There were egos, tempers, fights and humiliation. My parents decided it was time to move out, my brother and me in tow. I was 15, when the world I grew up, the universe I knew, was ripped apart and I was uprooted and taken to a different country to start a new life. Sure, new adventure, I told myself. But I lost my feeling of 'home'. That was the first of many moves, to the point that in my 20s I got used to the idea of living in one place for only 2 years, until it was time to move again. Money was a strain throughout, and it tore my family apart. I soon realised my freedom lay in my own income. I started working at the age of 19 and my father opened my first bank account for me (the best thing he ever did). Once I began to earn money, things changed. I didn't need permission for a lot of things. I didn't need to ask for an allowance. I didn't need to put up with the lectures of "we don't have enough money". Because I did. I didn't need anybody to fend for me or provide for me. I began to support myself, through trial and error. It made me feel safe, having money of my own. I moved out of my parents's house at 23 -- something that is culturally unheard of in my community, for an unmarried woman. It was hard, but the best thing I ever did.

I'm still moving around, but I know that no matter where I am I will always land on my feet and I will never go hungry or worry about where I'm going to sleep for the night. Sometimes it makes me detach from a place or people very quickly. Sometimes, it's necessary, but when it isn't, I do feel bad.

When I understood these strong suits, I realised that they were an armour I built around my skin to protect myself. To protect that child who had suffered different traumas at a young age. I began to pride myself on having them. I began to identify myself as these qualities. I forgot about my fragility, my humanity and my innocence. I became hard and impenetrable. I was friendly and extroverted but few people could gain access to the vulnerable me. It took me a while to remember that the little child is still in there somewhere. And that I didn't have to let go or undo the armour to find her. My travels around the world, interactions with people -- other seekers like me -- have helped me to understand this.


This brings me to now.

Things had set in motion around late last year, when some incidents triggered a snowball effect in my introspective journey. A lot of repressed trauma and memories came to the forefront. I had been going to therapy regularly and I began to acknowledge their presence. This hit me quite hard and threw me off balance. Added to this were significant life changes, geographical shifts and relationship turbulence. While I feel broken, damaged, scared, fragile and unbelievably terrified of letting people see me, I also am glad I am facing everything, with the help of a therapist and a loving family and supportive friends. I think that's just good grace I've earned over time and I'm grateful.

But with this crashing down of my armour - the strong, independent, creative woman who doesn't need anybody to take care of her, who always finds a solution to any problem, who can survive anything - has added a considerable amount of shame and guilt on my shoulders. So I'm going to state everything I feel guilty about and hope that in this declaration, it's out in the open and can finally leave me:

I feel guilty because I cannot carry myself physically forward.

I feel guilty for not having the wisdom, strength or tools to protect myself as a child.

I feel guilty for not having the courage to say 'no', when I wanted to.

I feel guilty for the rage I have felt against my family for not protecting or guiding me when I needed it most.

I feel guilty because I couldn't make my last relationship survive the tough times.

I feel guilty because I'm relying on my parents to support and love me and hold me up when I can't stand.

I feel guilty because I feel that I should be doing this for them.

I feel guilty when my mother hugs me even when she has a backache.

I feel guilty when I cannot let my father see me cry or when I'm vulnerable.

I feel guilty when I have an anxiety attack and my body shrivels up and contorts and I cannot breathe, and I cannot snap out of it right away.

I feel guilty when I cannot meet my friends and tell them how my life is going.

I feel guilty that I do not want to be seen, even when everyone is worried about me.

I feel guilty I cannot be there for my siblings when they are struggling with their own problems.

I feel guilty that I cannot change or improve my situation today, this minute, right here, right now.

I feel guilty that I couldn't control my emotions when I wanted to.

I feel guilty because I lack patience, and it takes patience to acquire patience over a period of time.

I feel guilty that I put my body through so much stress, anxiety and worry for the past year, that when it gave up on me, I was frustrated with myself. (I'm really sorry about that, Tulsi. I promise to make it up to you.)

I feel guilty that I am spending my life savings on more education, living in a country I'll have to struggle to belong in, rather than saving for a secure future (if that even means anything, really).

I feel guilty for allowing myself to believe in promises of love, when deep down I knew it was a long shot when the man just lies to himself, so how could he even know I was The One?

I feel guilty for not being strong enough to support the man I loved, when he was being inauthentic with himself and wanted to be validated, and stood up for the truth instead (I will get over this one quickly, I assure you).

I feel guilty for not being able to be mentally and emotionally stable enough to face my family and friends, to smile and laugh, to feel normal and live a healthy, active life just yet. I'm afraid they will lose patience with me.

I feel guilty when I can't go up and down stairs because my erstwhile strong legs are in so much pain, and my mother has to bring me dinner.

I feel guilty that I cannot find an innovative way to end suffering in the world, that I cannot heal everybody, that I cannot save everyone.

I feel guilty now that I have realised I'm not a superhuman.
(But I've also come to realise that being human in itself is a very powerful thing -- which very few people recognize and practice in their lifetimes)



I'm blanking out. That probably means my List of Guilt is ending. If I remember more, I'll vent them in the next post.

I don't know if my guilt stems from the possibility that my strong suits failed me. Or from the likelihood that I don't need them anymore but am not sure the world will accept me as me. But then I imagine a world that doesn't accept me as I am, isn't the world I'm meant to live in. Is it then the guilt of wanting to shed the suits and still be considered those things in my own head? Is that even possible? Not sure yet.


I spent most of today in bed, deep in thought. I didn't do much else. So I want to end this post with a positive thought I read online.

"We can all practice beginning anew. 

We can always start over."- Thich Nhat Hanh

Day 8: Eight Laps

I wanted to write a post about guilt today, but I've had a major anxiety attack this evening and have zero energy to introspect at the moment. Safe to say, a load was lifted, but another one took its place. I'm dealing with it and will address it soon.

Today, I did 8 laps and a 45-minute meditation session in the pool. I befriended my chakras, and told them it is safe to blossom. It felt wonderful.

I also went through the last two years of music I have created, sung or been a part of and remembered that I am gifted. It felt good to see myself sing and smile and fearlessly emote through music. I feel blessed and fortunate that I have been chosen by the universe to channel and spread this beautiful energy. May I always be worthy of the music.

I like how my face glows when I'm in love. I hope I can feel that glow again some day. 

Day 7: Letting Go

Why is 'letting go' such a battle? By 'letting go', I mean letting go of everything: hurt, betrayal, anger, pride, insecurity, past words, past relationships, anything and everything that no longer serves a purpose in my life and yet plays a front-and-center role in it. I think it goes deeper than just letting go of these things.

Letting go means letting go of familiarity. Even if they're yesterday's jeans, I've worn them enough times to know what they feel like and whether I consciously choose it or not, I'll be more comfortable wearing them than throwing them away and getting a new pair. I've already adjusted to their shape, to the torn pockets, to the tight buttoning and faulty zipper. I've found a way around them all, and have been able to coexist with the familiarity of old jeans. But the truth is, I've outgrown them and they no longer keep me warm or fit my body. Hard to part with old jeans. Now, imagine parting with old stories, old love, bitterness, unfinished romances, unsaid words, scars that have almost begun to define you, and so on. I mean, without these, I'm a blank slate. I have no beginning and no end. I have no story. And I'm left with now and here, and what I want to do with it. It's terrifying, letting go. Even though it is the ultimate goal. It's terrifying.

Who would I be then? The girl who met those people? The fighter who fought those battles? The woman who fell in love or out of it? The worker who never gave up? The body that did, when I pushed it over the edge? The heartbroken crumple who aches to be loved? The child who constantly wants to go home, but doesn't know where that is?

Letting go would mean I'm no longer any of these. I'd be me, plain and simple. And whatever I choose to be, henceforth. I think the stories that have accompanied us so far, become like companions, familiar shoes that we walk with every day, our favorite blanket to sleep with, our poison of choice, and our best friend. Remember, we also take pride in the things we've conquered/ accomplished/vanquished/rejected, however brutal the struggle was. Pride is a tough one to check and let go of. Oftentimes, we aren't even aware of how governed we are by our pride.

It's heartbreaking saying goodbye to the past. But that's exactly what will set us free from it. It is the eternal struggle we humans face in this limited period of time called life. We're moving uphill and our journey can  be either tougher or easier, depending on the amount of baggage we choose to accumulate along the way.

Operative word: "Choose"

Letting go also means no control. This is a big one. I can guarantee that 90% of whoever reads this post is terrified of losing control. No, I don't mean getting drunk at a party and dancing on the counter. Not that kind of losing control. I mean letting go of this idea that we have everything under control in the first place. That our lives will turn out the way we planned because of a series of actions we undertake in a calculated manner. Ha! The only thing that is guaranteed is that plans don't necessarily turn out the way they were meant to. That anything that can go wrong, just might. That you may find happiness where you least expect it. That your dreams may  cometrue but in the most horrific way possible. Change is constant and inevitable and if you don't catch that train, you'll be stuck on an empty station, until the station itself disappears and you have no ground underneath your feet. Nothing is in your control. Except the choice you make to cling to an illusion of control.

I'm afraid to let go. But I have moments when I can surrender myself to Nature and the Universe and I feel protected and secure, knowing they have my back. A year ago, I met someone special in a very unexpected place. We hit it off and there was a special energy between us. But in that time, we were both struggling with our own histories. And we couldn't get past them. I remember going to the beach one afternoon and going straight in to the Ocean and closing my eyes. I surrendered my heart, my fears, my desires, my everything, my whole being to Her. I prayed for support if he was someone who's meant to be in my life. And if he wasn't, I prayed to be released from the desire of him. And it helped me to cope with the changing situation at the time. It helped me to understand that nothing is in my control, so when I gave up the 'illusion of control' or my tendency to 'overthink' or 'micromanage' my feelings, I was a happier, freer person. I had all the space, time and freedom to love unconditionally, without desire, without expectation, without judgment. I still think fondly of him, grateful that we met, hoping he is happy wherever he is, irrespective of whether we see each other ever again.

But this hasn't been easy for me to practice regularly. I have had the opportunity to experience total surrender and its rewards, but it takes a lot out of me to actually do it all the time.

I guess it starts with asking myself: what is it that I want? Really?

I haven't thought of an answer yet. Not fully. There are words and ideas, but a full sentence, a full list of what I really want - I'm afraid to consider it. I'm afraid to manifest it, only to lose it.

I guess my fear is losing what matters to me most. Everything ends, doesn't it?

Haha!
As I write this, I'm reminded of a conversation with that same person I mentioned earlier.
We were discussing relationships and he said something along the lines of, "What's the point? Because all these relationships go away in the end."

And I said to him, "What's the point in living, then? We're all going to die anyway."
I also said (and I think this answers my question to myself), "... a month or so ago, I was dealing with unbearable pain caused by heartbreak. But even in that pain I knew that one day I will love again. Feeling love for someone is worth every trial and heartache. Love is the point of everything."

I don't have a conclusive end to this post, except that in remembering what I said to this person, I am reminded about what I seek and why I want to let go of all that baggage.

To make space for love, love, and more love.

Quando a mare baixar
Vai lhe-visitar
Vai fazer devocao
Vai lhe-presentiar
No mar
Mora Iemanja,
No Mar
Mora Iemanja
('Rainha do Mar' - Carolina Soares)

Day 6: Kiri-kiri

Today was a very busy and eventful day. And I was looking forward to writing about it tonight. But after a long time, I had a massive breakdown in my bedroom. 

I couldn't hold it in any longer, and screamed and sobbed my heart out into a pillow, while my mother sat next to me. All the anger, hurt, frustration, fear, sadness and pain just tumbled out without warning. It felt like the earth was shaking beneath me, and I was caught in a hurricane. All the feelings I was trying to distract myself from, suppress or rationalise in the hope of being a 'better human being', just raced out of my throat and into the universe. It was a cry from so deep within me, what came out felt like it made straight for the core of the earth, if you can imagine it. My mother let me vent. She believes it's better to let it out than keep it inside. I sobbed for every ache in my body, my heart and my soul. I cried like a child and begged my mother to never leave me, never die on me, never stop loving me (all the things a child is afraid of). In those 15 minutes, I became a 4 year old and she held me so tight, I felt like I was glued to her. It was the most secure feeling I have felt in a very long time. 

When I calmed down, I lay my head in her lap and sniffled. She ran her fingers gently up and down my back. This is something she used to do to me and my brother when we were kids. It's strangely soothing and relaxing and even though I'm easily tickled, this makes me feel light and sleepy. She calls it, 'kiri-kiri'. I feel blank now. 

So tonight, I've composed a tune on the ukulele I bought earlier today. It's the music that plays in my head when my mother runs her fingers up and down my back. My first time on a ukelele. Happy notes. Just what I need. Let's see if I can build on this tune over the next couple of days.

Kiri-kiri