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 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 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 11: A Prayer

Benaulim Beach, Goa

May the Universe guide me through this journey and help me walk forward.

For the hurt I have experienced, for the wounds and scars, I offer gratitude for the lessons they taught me. I have been attached to their company, but I understand it is time for us to go our separate ways.

For what I cannot predict, foresee or plan, I surrender myself to You, Dear Sea. I believe in Your wisdom and I know You will envelope me in your embrace and take me where I need to go. I am but a grain of sand in Your current and I will gladly follow You anywhere.

No matter where or how I am, may I always, always, always be able to stop and look in wonder at Your majesty and beauty.