Is this Attachment ? Or trauma response? Clarifying too much? Or explaining too little? Wanting to be seen? Or wanting to disappear? Do I share? Do you care? Am I too much? Is this significant? Do I make you happy? Or am I never there? Do I like the way we show up? Or it should have been different? Is it an expression? Or am I seeking validation? Oh yes, I see the wounds! Yes, I am scared! How do I heal them? Will someone fix it for me? Or is it for me to recover? This void, has always existed. How to fill it? No one taught me! Was it love? I lost it? Or did love never exist? And, I thought it did! Why did I not say what was true to me? Why did I repeat what was expected? Why did I say less? Why did I skew? Why did I stayed longer? Giving too many chances? What did I want? What did I do? What did I see? What did I not know? Why was it not easy, to just be? Staying for too long? Or leaving too early? Shaming? Blaming? Criticizing? Praising? Holding? Scolding? Pursuing? Avoiding? Escaping? Fantasizing? Expectations? Disappointments? Connection? Disassociation? Who do I have to prove anything? Whose approval am I seeking? Who taught me that only difficult roads led to beautiful places? Maybe, for me, magnificence might exist in simple settings! Who are we trying to prove our worthiness? Could light be appreciated, if darkness didn’t exist? Will we ever stop living in the boxes? When will we discard the “what if’s”? Pause. Reflect. Is this a mental imagery? Is this making sense? Or is this a labyrinth of quicksand? Where one thought is giving way to another? For once, I know, There are no answers!
That window creaked. The iron bars made the rusty screeching noise as a four-year-old pushed and pulled them. It was powercut at DDA flats Keshav Puram. This corner window was her favourite hideout. Swinging there was her refugee from the world. Wondering if those rusty bars break? Her eyes were hazy with tears. Loud silence prevailed in the monotonous night. She found solace in the darkness. Pitch darkness. No scope for shadows. Even at that age, she knew that some amount of light was needed to create shadows. Shadows were scary. Shadows are always scary!
I am an alien. She usually thought. I don’t belong here. Alien? UFO’s was an intriguing topic of debate among elders. Door to the fantasy world for a child. An introduction to escapism. It was a fairytale. It was so tranquil. In a blink of an eye, she was teleported. The cool breeze blowing on her face in the chilled winter morning. Aromatic flowers in the garden. Sun shone magnificently in the sky. Clouds taking different shapes with the blowing wind. Grass moist with dew. The park had small hills. She enjoyed to roll down from them repeatedly.
As small feet could not match the walk, her elder brother made her sit on his shoulders as they stroll in the park. It was their custom to sing songs. Beatles… “We all live in a Yellow Submarine…”, “Let it be…” Her brother would sing and those words unknowingly started to mean so much to her. Most memorable time of the day were those walks.
Nevertheless, shadows are scary. They are self-reflection. They mirror our own insecurities. It takes a great amount of courage to look at our shadows (self). Being alienated is so painful. Many times one cannot related to where he or she belongs to. Sometimes, without realising, one can live alienated to self. For the concept of self is quite complex. Nature grounds. Feeling of belonging, an identity, image of self. Music is meditation. It’s an expression.
Dysfunction sinks in the subconscious when we are children. We became what we see. All of us felt like revolutionaries at our teenage. Trying to do things our way. Trying to defy society, however, eventually, gave up to the will of our elders as we grew older.
Today, as I sit to do this shadow or inner work. Those shadows are as scary at 44 years as they were at 4 years. I realise, I still need to be a rebel. Not outwards but inwards. Rebel to my social conditioning. Examining each thought as it rises. To discern how much of me is actually not me but what people desired me to be. It is hard work trying to break the pattern. To sincerely try, that, I don’t give my children the same dysfunction I inherited. And I hope I am not too late.
Its the journey of unbecoming! Concluding with lyrics from Beatles song (Thank you, brother, for introducing me to soulful music.)
“And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree There will be an answer, let it be. For though they may be parted, There is still a chance that they will see… There will be an answer…….. let it be!” (Beatles-Let it be (link below))
It’s yet another awakening when pain takes over a being. She was breathing pain. A voice in her head was imitating a yoga instructor saying…
Close your eyes and inhale pain, stay with your breath, let it pain. Observe the pain. Feel it in each tiny cell of your body, release the painful breath through the exhalation. Start all over again by breathing in pain!
Morsels of food were tasteless, sometimes salty and bitter when they got laced with drops of blood oozing out from somewhere inside the mouth. Every activity of the limbs reminded her of it all that had happened. She felt immense pain in standing, walking, or while lying down. All postures hurt. Existing hurt.
Sound in her head was presently saying, “Pop a pill darling and you don’t know where you are… Sleep in peace. Yes, whisper your prayers, forgive and forget. For he who sins, doesn’t know what he does… Possessed by the devil, he attends to him, not conscious of his own actions. Forgive and forget, to move on. Tomorrow is a new day. We will discover a new coping mechanism.”
Some are endless cycles of pursuit.
Craving and psychotic pleasure…
Can pain be an addiction?
It gives a high.
The rush of blood to the head and everything freezes, slow motion. Pause.
Can pain impersonate as seducing death?
Bitter and salty blood, suddenly, tastes sweet as freedom. Freedom forever. Pause and breathe again.
Let there be awakening! Catharsis! Emotional numb!
“Wear your mask, put on some lipstick on your fake smile. Yes, whisper your prayers, forgive and forget. Amnesia. Today is a new day…”
The mind can occasionally be extraordinarily powerful. Arose a phoenix from the ashes. Breaking the shackles and the chains that kept her spirit captive. Revived like that losing wrestler in the ring, with failing stamina but intense willpower.
“Pledge, my darling”, the voice continued, “You will not sacrifice yourself again! It is you who has the key to what you accept or disagree with. Construct on these ruins, a life of authenticity”.
It was 2:30 am, 31st December 2019. The year was going to end in a few hours. She tossed and turned in her bed, not able to fall asleep. It had been a very happening year. A turning point in her life. Today she was reminded of someone. A kind lady whom she had met in the hospital some twenty years ago. The most challenging time in life a woman is, childbirth. It was past midnight. She was admitted to a ward in Jaipur Golden Hospital for a C-section. It was a planned Cesarean. Doctors had suggested surgery as the baby was breech. It was life-threatening for the child to go for normal delivery. At 23 years she was quite a child herself. It was her life’s first surgery. She was very scared. Hospital and those smells had invariably made her nervous. Past midnight an argument broke between her and her husband. she lay trembling as he shouted at her. Delivery time and stress got on her nerves and she began to cry. Seeing her cry he lost it completely and began hitting her.”You know I don’t like your crying drama!” He yelled and hurled a few fits of abuse. She felt as if everything was enveloped in darkness and the world was collapsing. She simply wanted it to stop. In those minutes she wished she was dead. All she badly needed was to be a reassured that everything would be alright. All her attempts to control tears were futile. She failed to understand why she was not being treated fair. She longed for a comforting hug and love that she thought was her due right, for, she was about to deliver into the world that tiny cute baby who would be the family’s pride. He was agitated. Instead of being comforted, she was hit on her face. Shocked and angry she began to cry loudly. This led to several slaps right and left. Her face was red and bruised, but her heart was smashed and broken. Totally in pieces that pierced her soul. She hid her face in the pillow and wept. After a while, she felt the need to use the washroom. Her husband had slept on the settee near the door. The room was partitioned into two parts with a plastic opaque curtain. There was a bed on each side of the curtain. The washroom was on the other side of the curtain. As she walked to the loo. The old lady who was lying on that bed signaled her to come to her bedside. She went to her. The lady held her and hugged her and cried. The motherly affection at this time touched her immensely. She hugged her back and wept. “How will you live your life with this man?” The kind lady asked her. Some questions don’t have answers. The lady kissed her. She lovingly said, “May God give you strength”. Some old ladies feel like blessings. She seemed to be an angel giving her the comforting hug that was so badly needed. She secretly wished that the kind Aunty should not meet her parents. She might tell them about the fight and the abuse. For some reason, she didn’t want her parents to know about the regular abuse.
In the washroom she wept her heart out. Suddenly, she realized that her water bag had burst. She panicked. Going into normal labor was dangerous for the baby. She prayed. The doctors had to perform an emergency operation promptly. For some reasons, doctors had to give her oral anesthesia. The surgery lasted for almost ninety minutes and it took her another two hours to regain consciousness. The mental state she was in after the fight and the anesthesia during the surgery together had affected her brain. She had gone into shock. Her senses had numbed. Her responses became sluggish and dull. She was in a different world altogether. Everything was distant and unrelated. She would continually stare at wall and her mind was blank. Many memories were that meant so much were forgotten forever that day. Little did she know her life was changed for ever. Wit and intelligence had once been her charm. She had lost it all. Recollecting who she was, where she was, what day it was, all started to take unusually long time. This dull-headedness continued for many years that followed.
Post operation, her discomfort was heightened by visitors. Although doctors had advised bed rest for the entire day, she was compelled to pretend that she was normal. Her in-laws, who were so opposing to what all the doctors said, came to visit her. She was forced to sit and walk, smile and chat for almost three hours. The nurse, who came to check her temperature, as a routine, was shocked to see it. She quickly made her lie down and informed everyone that while the patient is in the hospital, he has to abide with doctors advice. The crying of the newborn, would often bring her attention back from the state of nothingness. As she would hold the baby in her arms she felt a strange peace and calm descended upon her for sometime.
The shock-like state lasted for years. With passing years she got overall better as she began working full time. Anxiety still triggered the same trauma-like response in her. However, looking back she sees that the journey was a tough terrain trek. She saw herself as a soul on a journey, surviving the numb heart and the broken past! Healing always took time.
She was grateful to God for everything she had been through. She was grateful to the angels she met in the human form time and again, who have taught her the significance of empathy and compassion. It were these fragments of love and kindness along with her struggles and challenges that had navigated her into her current trajectory. She understood that everything that ever happened had facilitated the movement towards growth and ascension.
Musings - An Endeavour to writing 