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 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 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 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 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 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 20: Taste

The smell of buckwheat flour crackling over butter. The cheese that melted as I pressed the fork and knife down to cut a piece. How the white cheese oozed out of small holes in the buckwheat crepe. The velvety touch of aubergine in the ratatoiulle, and dance of herbs on my tongue. The sweetness of caramelized onions. The fields where everything grew, ripe and fresh. The cows that produced the dairy that made the incredible cheese. The love and compassion of creating a wholesome meal for strangers. The smiles of the chefs as my mother watched them cook our meal. The attentiveness of the ladies who waited on us, with a smile, at the end of a long day on their feet. The intimacy between my lips and the cutlery. The tasteful art and the artful tastes. Gentle music caressing me in the background. The creaminess of everything. The food coma. The generosity and care of those who served us. Their large hearts. Dessert on the house. Sweetness to ride home with. The experience shared.

Bliss. Gratitude. Nourishment. Fulfilment. Happiness.

Day 18: Shelled

Today's been a busy and challenging day. I managed to step out and be in crowded areas with people. Yes, this does sound silly and you're probably thinking, What? She has trouble being around people now? I mean, she could sing on stage in front of a 100 or more people and roar with laughter in a pub. So what's this new agoraphobic behaviour?

I don't know what to tell you, except it's new and likely to be temporary. I haven't exposed myself so much to even my loved ones and it's very exhausting -- talking about my feelings, emoting, crying, feeling conflicted in what to share and what to censor, who to confide in and who to smile at. It's extremely tiring. And now that I've gotten used to this with a small handful of people, an entire crowd feels like being caught inside a cave with no air. Worse still, I feel so exposed it's like I'm a tortoise whose shell has been ripped off. I've nowhere to hide, take shelter in, I can't scurry away into a corner and I have to wait until the scars heal, bleeding for all the world to see. This would be one of my worst night mares, being seen, being heard, being watched while I bleed my heart out.

But here we are. So I made an effort to visit my sister's today, without my mother. I was nervous and almost turned around when I was on my way, but I gave myself the option to leave if I was self-conscious and uncomfortable. I knew that my sisters would understand and that gave me courage. So I went and met them. And I had a good time. We laughed at each other, at ourselves, at being women in our thirties with tired ovaries,  at being human. It felt good. I'm glad I was bold enough to break away from my cocoon today. I also feel fortified in knowing I am protected and sheltered by my loved ones. They may never replace the home that shell had been, but they've created something special that makes me feel safe.

The climb is harder, as layers peel away, and my resolve gets stronger. My skin and heart are raw, but I'm beginning to believe they will heal and be thicker and stronger soon. Sometimes I long for companionship. For a fellow seeker to climb with me and tell me what his view is like from where he's standing. At other times, I want to be still and quiet, and not exchange a single word or sound with anyone.

I pray for balance. I pray for forgiveness, from the Universe and from myself. This is hard. But I'll keep trying. Making an effort is all we can really do.

May not have a shell anymore,
but by God,
I shall have this mask. 

Now listening to: "Orange Sky" by Alexi Murdoch
https://youtu.be/4FL7c7zcpvA

Day 16: Indulgence

Today was a day of total indulgence. After a reassuring session of therapy, I took my mother out for lunch to a little French creperie in the neighborhood -- one of the best that I've ever been to in Mumbai. We have so diligently been eating healthy, home food, that today's treat was precious and delectable. Feta cheese, buckwheat crepes, ratatouille, more cheese, salads (okay, it wasn't junk food, but it was more than we normally eat).  It was a sumptuous meal, and I felt grateful for the food, the exceptional service, the breezy outdoor weather and closeness my mother and I shared.

After 'the shift' within me yesterday, I have been pensive, concerned about how to manage different relationship dynamics especially with loved ones as I move forward in my journey in healing.

So today, my mother and I indulged each other. We ate, we shopped (she got me four pairs of shoes, for all of my eight feet), and we walked around the city like two girls in wonder of all the colors and shapes that shifted and glittered around us. We walked hand in hand, being constantly physically connected and exchanging warmth, as we moved forward through the day, knowing things will change soon and we may not get to spend as much time together.

I feel full. Not just in my stomach, but in my heart, arms, legs, shoulders, knees, toes and everywhere in between. There are mixed emotions. I feel somewhat stronger and hopeful. I also feel reluctant to grow up from being a 4-year-old who needs to hold my mother's hand tightly. I'm a little scared to take that leap, despite having done it so many times before. Maybe this leap is longer and higher. I feel overwhelmed with love and attachment to everyone who has shown me compassion. This is particularly hard to contain. And does it even need containment? I'm not sure yet. I suppose a few days of processing is likely and necessary.

But I got four pairs of shoes to wear, while I think it over. Not too shabby.

Day 15: The Shift

18/08/2018

Today has been very special (apart from being my brothers birthday). I have so much to say, yet I cannot find the words. Maybe the details are only meant for me to feel within me and some day I'll be able to share it in words.

I am reminded of the day I met Tata Vega, one of my idols, last year. The voice that sang, God is Trying To Tell You Something, the voice that sang to my heart, the voice of the Universe, who spoke back to me. That day was very important because the Universe sent me a message, a response: "I'm on the right track and I'm going to be okay."

Often, when I'm low or in a dark place I have felt like ending my life or at least praying for death to come to me. I know I sound morbid, but it is what it is. And I know I'm not the only one in the world who thinks like this. Clearly, death hasn't come. So I began to pray for something else:

"Dear Universe, if it is my time to go, take me now, and I will gladly follow you. But if it isn't, please help me. "


Today the Universe spoke to me and held me. I feel full of this cotton pillow softness. I fell into a deep sleep. I felt a shift within me. I felt understood and anchored. I felt known in a way I haven't known myself in a very long time. And even though my future is uncertain, it doesn't matter anymore. In this moment, in the now, I have some purpose, something to think about that is beyond suffering. A roadmap, maybe. Or maybe just an idea to explore. An idea, after all, is the beginning of everything.

I cannot tell you what happened exactly, or who I met or what was said. What I can say is the wind was dancing, it rained, then the sun shone and the leaves rustled. All in the span of a few hours. Nature was happy and rejoiced. And the Universe held me.

I am so grateful and moved. I cannot wait for my life to begin again. I hope this carries me forward. I think it will. Slow and steady, Tulsi.

For you, everyone who reads this, everyone who's going through something, or isn't going through anything but is just here with me and even for those who are far away somewhere: May you be happy. I am grateful for you and your presence. And I love you.

🙏

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 5 - Gettin' my hands dirty

I signed up for a clay modeling workshop at Carpe Diem, Majorda. It goes on for 5 turns and each turn is 2 hours of learning how to work with clay of different types, understanding techniques and glazing and firing my own clay masterpieces!

I'm always ready for any artistic activity that gets my hands dirty. Today, we worked with terracotta. It's not very different from regular (gray) clay, and is more budget-friendly. Our instructor, Ramdas, made all the kneading and fixing look so effortless, we were in for a surprise when he assigned us our own lumps of clay to prepare for modelling. There is an entire process that precedes the actual modeling part, which I didn't know about. Pretty interesting how even the smallest air bubble in a lump of clay could cause your clay model to explode inside the kiln. Pretty dramatic, how he described it, too. 

Our technique for the day was 'pinching'. We each had a round lump of clay to hollow out by pinching evenly at the sides. Once we hollowed it out into even pieces, we joined two halves back together to make a hollow circle. After smoothening it, we were ready to design our masterpieces.

I decided to make a baby owl, which I would use as a tea-light or baby candle lamp. It was quite an intricate process but I was too enamoured by all the tools, the unlimited clay, and the endorphins soaring through my body. My mother also participated and was making her Frida Kahlo Pig curio.

There was a third lady, who as soon as she joined the class began to whine about how she would have to cut her nails to continue the class, and how she didn't want to hollow the clay, or make simple animal designs. She was adamant in making a traditional diya (lamp) with atypical patterns. When she saw what my mother and I were making, she whined that she wanted to do what we were doing. She just wasn't satisfied. She kept eyeing my mother's clay model and at one point I was worried that she would walk over and just shove my mom's work off the table to sabotage it. There's always ONE diva in every class I've attended. It's inevitable. I felt sorry for her. She wasn't able to expand her mind beyond what is 'safe' and 'pretty'. We are so enslaved by our fear of failure or 'ugliness' that people can spend an entire life not taking a risk. Ugly isn't bad. Neither is failure. Like Ramdas said, "If you mess it up, just start over with another one." Simple.

Ramdas and the owner of the workshop, Daegal, were very happy with our progress and kept taking photos. I loved the entire property itself, which is an art gallery cum coffee shop cum gig venue cum workshop space. I love the name -- "Carpe Diem". I am so excited to go back for the remaining sessions. 

My father was the official photographer of the evening, and while he didn't want to get his hands dirty, he kept himself occupied by documenting our entire workshop with his camera. 

I appreciate how patient he was, while mum and I worked on our pieces. 

 

For dinner, we went to Da Tita, an Italian restaurant in Majorda, which is known for its clay-oven pizzas and authentic Italian cuisine. I have never eaten more delicious pizza, greens or pesto bruschettas anywhere outside of Italy. The parma ham and pepperoni pizza was delectable. Not to mention the panacotta and tiramisu for dessert. The owner of this restaurant is an old Italian chef, who trained a local chef to cook authentic Italian fare. He even flew her down to Italy several times to experience the tastes and flavors of local Italian cuisine. I could almost smell the olive trees and rosemary bushes in Sorrento and the cheese factory in Meta. The parma ham reminded me of Prosciutto e Melone.

I had woken up today with disturbing thoughts, tears-inducing pain in my abdomen and a general sadness that I've almost gotten used to by now. But I knew that things would be better as the day panned out. I've begun to believe that despite hardships, I can have a good day, create something beautiful, meet new people and share stories, and be loved. Knowing this gives me more strength to cope with pain.

Today was a very fulfilling day. I am excited and motivated to create more art. (Secretly hoping Daegal, the owner, likes my artwork and decides to display or sell it at his gallery).

Amen.

(To know more about Carpe Diem and their various workshops through the year, visit their website: http://www.carpediemgoa.com/ . There are some incredible pieces of art there, not to mention delicious coffee and friendly dogs)

Break Up Song

Funnily enough, this isn't my first breakup with my last boyfriend. I know what you're thinking. Why did she go back to him again, only to be heartbroken again? Love makes us do strange things that seem right to us at the time. That's pretty much all I can say about that. And that I don't regret it. And that it still sucks.

So the last time we broke up, quite messily and tearfully too, I wrote a bunch of songs. I'm a songwriter, by the way. So emotional turmoil is easy money, in a way. My unreleased hits include, "Borrowed Shoe", "I Can't Feel A Thing", "If You Were Here", and others. I guess you get the gist of the song by the title. Don't get me wrong: I don't find pleasure in pain (not this kind of pain, anyway. We'll leave that conversation for another kind of blog). But a wise man in a tweed jacket once told me that a songwriter's job is to bleed emotionally for the public, in the hope they will relate to us, and make our songs and feelings about them (and that's how we make money).

Maybe for this chapter of our long relationship, The Final Chapter, a new set of songs is in order.
Current Song Titles:

"Immature Douchebag"

"Not Strong Enough"

"Lying to Yourself"

"Why Bother?"

"The Asshole Song" (Oh wait, Jimmy Buffet already wrote that one. Worth a listen.)



Maybe I should hold on to the songwriting idea for a little longer. I think the lyrics will flow when they have to.

This is what I've been listening to lately. Not necessarily break-up songs per se. But they distract me from the sound of his voice or his smile and loving eyes or how we ripped each other apart.

1. The Score - Revolution
2. KONGOS - Come With Me
3. Fleetwood Mac - Gold Dust Woman
4. Barns Courtney - Glitter & Gold
5. Flashdance OST - She's a Maniac
6. Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out
7. Fleetwood Mac - The Chain
8. Rocky II OST - Redemption
9. Blondie - Call me
10. Pat Benatar - Love is a Battlefield (because it is.)


If you have any other songs for me to listen to, I'm open to recommendations.

Poetry for the night (from my stash, circa 2005):

"Twinkle twinkle little pricks,
May your balls be under bricks.
When night falls, so will they
And sink to the bottom of a lake. "

Day 1: Bake a cake

Is it possible to feel opposing sensations at the same time?

I woke up feeling rested, but depressed. It was as though the 9-hour slumber had given me 9 hours of respite from the chaos in my mind, and while my body felt calm, the chaotic chatter switched back on, promptly as I woke up.  It was a beautiful, breezy, monsoon morning in the South of Goa. And I was raining tears in bed, going over every last detail of the fight that ended my last relationship. I couldn't stop the fighting voices in my head. His. Mine. It's painful just thinking about it.

The first half of the day involved the Bed, Netflix (That 70's Show), a couple of trips to the restroom, a banana, and crying. I managed to snooze in the afternoon, just by willing my mind to shut off for a couple of hours.

Post 5pm, my mother came into my room and let me cry with her (I'm so grateful for the space my family is giving me to feel everything). A cup of warm water later, my brain cells felt activated, in a good way. I wanted to eat something sweet, but for over a month have been off any sweets from outside, and off sugar unless its jaggery or fruits. I wanted something tangy and lemony.

So I decided to bake Lemon (or Lime) Bars. The idea itself woke me up more, and I decided to do it right away, before the zeal escaped me. I quickly changed out of my PJs, into jeans and a tee-shirt, and went out to buy ingredients. I was proud to use home-grown limes (five stars for my folks, who grow almost everything they need in their backyard). My father helped me make the base with butter and digestive biscuits, while my mother helped with the lime filling. We decided to use demerara sugar, so the end result was a brownish cake (Lime Bar masquerading as chocolate? Nobody had a problem with that!). Verdict? Delicious and totally worth the effort.

In case you ever want to make it, here's a quick recipe (not Masterchef quality, but damn it's delicious):

Ingredients:
Base (Mix together until evenly brittle):
1 cup cold butter (cut into small pieces)
1/2 cup sugar (I used demerara sugar, but you can use regular or even cane sugar)
2 cups flour (I used 1 1/2  packs of Nutri-Choice high-fiber digestive crackers instead, like Graham Crackers)

Filling (Whisk together):
1 1/2 cups sugar (Again, I used demerara. Also, you might want less or more, so trust your instincts)
5 Tbsp flour
4 Eggs
Lime Zest (I scraped about 2 1/2 to 3 limes for this)
Lime Juice (I used 5 limes. If you are using lemons instead, halve the amount I've used)

Directions:
Preheat the oven at 350 degrees F for about 15-20 minutes.

Prepare the base and press evenly into the bottom of a greased baking pan/tray. If you have butter paper, then lined the tray with that before you add the base.

Pour the filling onto the base, and put the tray in the oven for about 20-25 minutes. I kept checking every 10 minutes or so, with a knife, to see if it was done (it's been a while, since I baked anything). Normally, it doesn't take too long to bake. You could wait up to 30 minutes and get that crusty texture along the edges and the caramelised filling. I prefer it to be a little gooey on the inside.

Once you remove the tray (after checking with a knife, to see if it's done), let it just sit outside and cool for 15-20 minutes (or as long as you can keep your hands off of it).

(You could top it off with whipped cream, icing sugar or fruits. I had it neat. But I think I'm going to try fresh mango slices on top tomorrow.)

EAT!!

Ground Zero

Here goes. I'm 32 years old. I just got of out a long, serious relationship. My heart is broken. My mind is frayed. And as it were, my body isn't in good shape either. Turns out, being a woman in her 30s has its own complications. I've always been 'on-the-go' and highly functional in my professional life but circumstances have made me pause. To make things more interesting, I'm currently in a transition period I can best describe as: 'Don't-know-where-my-life-is-headed'. I'm scared, lonely, low on self-confidence and a bit dejected.

Let's put aside all the gasps of shock, judgmental raised eyebrows and holier-than-thou faces for now. I am certain this is relatable to a lot of you. This wasn't the picture we had in our minds, when we were kids and time was infinite. We had stars in our eyes, a bright future planned ahead of us and a bag full of hope. Sure, a few small curveballs came our way but we didn't let them deter us. We marched on, hand in hand, songs galore. Then the big curve-bludgeons came. 

Long story short, I've been through this cycle of emotional sludgery before and I know these curveballs are going to keep coming my way, mocking my idea of a 'planned'  (or even 'somewhat structured') life. What's changed for me? I keep getting stronger (and, hopefully, wiser). While I haven't reached the WonderWoman Stage yet this time, today I felt a glimmer of hope. I will reach that stage some day. It's inevitable. 

Until that day, I want to spend every day loving myself a little more. Even if it means appreciating my achievements of the day, however small. E.g. anything ranging from "I got out of bed today" to "I invented a new-something" to "I baked a cake" to "I made someone laugh, and it felt good." I'm up for anything that makes me remember why I deserve nothing but the best life has to offer me. 

So I'm going to commit to posting every day until I heal (or the curveballs win - I'll keep you posted either way).

I'm starting right now with this thought:

"I'm ready to heal."