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 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

An Ode to my Period

I waited as the clock struck twelve, 

With bated breath and crampy thighs

But Aunty Flo had other plans

And left me dry, with tears in my eyes.

I know I've been a tense little beast

And ignored the alarms to rest

I'd hoped this time, she'd give me a pass

And just add extra soreness to my breasts.

But it's wonky, without the crimson tide,

No surf is up, I'm hurting inside.

I know she's in there, tapping her foot,

Taking her sweet time to arrive.

Dear Flo, I miss you and your brilliant red

I miss the cramps, I miss the dread

Of leaving a mark, of feeling I've stained

Of feeling my bones are made of lead.

I promise I'll be a good little girl.

Self love and healing: I'll give it a whirl. 

Just come back and you will see

That you mean the world to me.

🌹

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)

Day 4 - The Driver's Seat

A woman's hormones are like a cat. Temperamental. Choosy. Will only play along if you pamper them and succumb to their every whim and wish. And even then, they might blow you off. Just because they don't feel like coming out to play. If you anger them, they will lash out in the worst way possible. Meowr! (I must add here that I think cats are very lovable creatures.)

I missed my period this month. No, I'm not pregnant. No, I don't have any disorder. They just haven't come yet. A major cause is stress. I've learnt this year (as if I didn't have any signals before, that I should have paid better attention to) that stress can screw up your body more than a car shredder can deface your car. I have had regular periods for pretty long, with only a couple of misses that I remember, once a decade, either due to under-eating or over-exercise. I have a Period App on my phone that logs my period cycle and reminds me when my next period is expected. It's very handy. I can even log in what pills I've taken, when I had sex and how I'm feeling emotionally.

My last three periods have been during very stressful times. I had to move houses twice, hauling tonnes of heavy luggage, with a bit of help, up and down flights of stairs. My last period was me running to catch a 22-hour flight from New York to India. This time around, my boyfriend and I broke up a few days before my period was due. I can safely say my ovaries have been sufficiently traumatized. 

This makes me sad. My body is tired and in pain and the medication I'm on is doing its best to get me back on track, but I feel weak, powerless, guilty and frustrated. So much that I find it hard sometimes to get up and sit down, or go up and down a flight of stairs. Of course, it hasn't stopped me, but I do take extra care not to push myself or fling my body around in over-enthusiasm. 

I really thought I'd get my period today. I've been cramping for weeks now, and my legs felt heavier. Let's put aside the moodiness because that's an everyday given. I'm still hopeful it'll come soon. But I have dark moments when I wonder what if they never will? I'm trying not to stay in that dark zone for very long.

Happy observation of the day: I've begun to look forward to the second half of the day. So far, every morning, I've been depressed, sluggish and brain dead. By the time I make my way downstairs for breakfast, I see my mom puttering about her plants and fixing me my morning mug of hot water and some fruits. She enthusiastically suggests activities we could do after breakfast, but I have no energy to do any at all. I am learning to forgive myself for lacking energy. By lunchtime, I gain some strength but am mentally still quite low. Mum goes up for her afternoon siesta and so do I. Normally I would never sleep in the afternoon, but for the past two days, I have enjoyed an hour of deep sleep. Once I wake up, I feel rested. When I go down, I'm raring for some activity. It's this second half of the day, when things begin to happen. And so they did, today.

I finally got to paint. My mom fixed me up with her stash of oil paints, some brushes and palette knives (my weapon of choice), turpentine and linseed oil, and a variety of canvases to choose from. I created a nook for myself under the stairs, where the books and my grandfather's old LPs are stored. It's cosy and private. I had a basic idea and just went for it. It was fun and illuminating. I enjoy painting because I never know how it's going to look in the end. By the end of the day, I was pretty happy with what I made. But I might tweak it tomorrow. 

We then decided to drive out to buy groceries. I haven't driven a car in 2 years, having lived in the US without a driver's license. But it didn't take much for me to get back into the driver's seat. And once I was in it, I just didn't want to stop driving. So we went to the vegatable market, fruit market and a plant nursery. We decided to drive to Johncy's for dinner at the beach. It was pouring and it was high tide. The sea was magnificent, with furious waves lashing at the shore and gusty winds sprinkling sea water on our faces. I could stare at the sea in the rain forever. It's peaceful and comforting, in any avatar. My mother and I walked along the shoreline after a delicious meal and gave thanks to the sea and the sand, for the peace we felt.

I wasn't ready to go home just yet. So we went on a long drive through the empty, dark roads of Goa at night. It was freeing. Mom went crazy taking pictures. Goa at night is just as gorgeous as day. I could have driven all night, all the way to the southernmost tip of Goa, if I could. But I made it to Cavellosim, and that was enough for the first day. 

Being able to drive a car, steadily on Indian roads (with Indian drivers and traffic), tells me I'm pretty stable and calm. It's reassuring. Even if I don't have control over my hormones, I have control of my driving skills and how I react to crazy drivers. This is a powerful feeling - being in the driver's seat (literally and metaphorically). I see myself driving out a lot more.

Looking forward to the second half of tomorrow. :)

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."