From a mind that spends a lot of time thinking…

VP of my class in elementary school. A slew of leadership activities in middle. Captain of soccer team in HS. Board member of the Indian association in college. Class President of my 200+ student body class in pharmacy school. Involvement in various community activities since childhood well into adulthood. People’s lives in my hands today. So many responsibilities successfully handed and yet…

At 21 I was told by an Indian uncle that if I was MC’ing a show with another 21 year old, we wouldn’t be able to handle a “catastrophe” if it were to occur. Why? We had to be “chaperoned” on stage. Why? When I asked why he got aggressive. He got mean. He told me to shut up and what he says goes. How toxic is this mentality? At 21 I, an adult who till date had already held so much responsibility in my hands, was being told I was “too much of a child to do things without a chaperone”. And I was told to shut up without an explanation.

In my now 4th decade of life, same thing. While making leaps and bounds in a community service activity, same thing, shut down because some Aunty decided to have a fit. Yes, let’s call it what it is, a literal fit. And since she needed to be pacified first (how mature) it was apparently okay to disrespect me and my counterparts. Again… why?

We were given lectures about “respect” and “not being toxic”. Oh our toxicity btw was questioning why we were being mistreated. Alternately this aunty had harassed me to hell while I was actively in labor delivering my baby. She harassed me to hell again two days later when I developed a very severe complication postpartum. It was hard. Not to mention the hormones and the separation anxiety from being separated from my baby but no… I had to deal with this woman and that too in a nonreactive way. But according to the uncles and aunties, THAT (her behavior) wasn’t toxic. Harassing a pregnant and postpartum woman was apparently okay. Not a single one of them (except maybe an uncle or two) said a word about it. But oh did they have a lot of lecturing to do when my peers spoke up for me and the disrespect I/we had faced.

Why is there a double standard in Eastern cultures? Why is it okay to openly disrespect youth. Why is it not okay for the youth to ask to be treated like humans and like adults. Basically I can have and care for a baby but I cannot demand respect. I cannot ask for my voice to be heard. I cannot be treated like an adult just because someone else is older.

Why?

Why the double standard?

And then the older society wonders why the youth don’t get involved. Why do the youth keep to themselves? Why don’t they go out and vote. Why don’t they go out and do things for the community.

Well why would we? Every time we want to do something along comes some older person trying to micromanage us. Trying to baby us. Trying to treat us like we are idiots who cannot do anything without our hands being held. When does that stop by the way?

It’s exhausting and annoying. We are better off just doing nothing then.

I woke up with a strange feeling. Something was off but I couldn’t tell right away what it was. I had work that night and didn’t have time for random out of left field complications. I looked at the clock and it had only been a couple hours. “Shit” I thought to myself, “I’ve gotten no sleep and tonight is going to be miserable.” I went downstairs because the initially seemingly normal discomfort started turning into pain. I chose to ignore it at first, but as a health care provider myself, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just “normal stuff”. An hour went by and things rapidly started getting worse. I started wondering if I should go to the emergency room but… “ugh who wants to sit there for hours only to get no help?”. Last time they gave me an ibuprofen and sent me home. I was nearly paralyzed from a pinched nerve in my neck and an ibuprofen was the best they could do. Besides I had work. Another 20 minutes ticked by. I checked the ER wait time… it wasn’t too bad. I could probably get out before I had my shift… at the same hospital. Then things rapidly changed. I started panicking. I didn’t know where my husband was so I just decided to take myself… strong independent woman and all… always alone. Always only reliant on myself. Just as I was about to leave the house I happened upon my husband who was fast asleep in the guest bedroom under a pile of laundry that still needed to be folded. “Typical,” I thought to myself as I belted his name out causing him to spring out of bed. I told him we needed to leave now. Something was wrong and at the worst it would just be another useless trip to the ER.

But it wasn’t. That quick decision to go based on a hunch that something was wrong was what saved my life.

That morning had been like any other. I was in perfect health, as always. Came home from work, took a shower, ate something, and went to bed. Never would I have guessed that within just 2 hours my health would take such a plunge south. Such a plunge that the ER decided they didn’t even have time to take me to the OR to fix the problem at hand. No anesthesia, no time. 9 extravasated attempts at a peripheral line, and a baby dose of fentanyl later – the needful procedure was performed right there… on the spot. Raw. But it had saved my life which was, after all, worth it.

I’ll talk about what happened in a later blog post because it’s something every female should know about. Today isn’t that day. What I do want to talk about however is time. How valuable it is. How finite it is. How invincible we aren’t.

I’ve always had the personality that thinks a gazillion times before doing something that has to do with another person. Habits, manners, etiquette – these things are of utmost importance to me. Whether someone communicates or not. Whether someone is considerate of another person or not. These are the things that I value. I acknowledge that everyone values different things, some people may not value these as highly as I do. However, after the above incident especially, I started thinking more seriously about what my values were and what kind of people I wanted surrounding me.

Respecting me means one must respect my time, because my time is not infinite. I don’t have clones. I don’t have a time turner.

Respecting my time means I matter to you. My presence matters to you. My feelings matter to you. How your actions impact me matter to you.

That had I died that day it would have mattered to you.

No one’s time on this planet is infinite. We all have an expiration date. Multiple, perhaps but sometimes we’re able to bypass them. I realized that day however that it does matter to me if someone is considerate of my time or if they consider it to be something that can be wasted.

Like money spent on stocks is finite and valuable, choosing where to spend my valuable albeit finite time is an investment. When time and time again that investment fails to materialize it is heart breaking. It literally hurts. It’s time I was alive that was wasted on an investment that had no expectation of a return. What happens when there is no return on investment? We stop investing.

Being alive means using the finite time we have to do things we enjoy. We do things that are good for ourselves and others… and a part of that good is respecting another’s finite time on this planet. If things had ended that day I wouldn’t have had any more time to spend with my family. My friends. You. It doesn’t mean that mutual time spent is always going to materialize, but leaving someone hanging with no communication means that their investment in you didn’t pan out (which is okay if communicated)… but the problem is that they weren’t able to pull out of that investment in time and put it somewhere else with a higher guarantee of return.

So next time another person asks me why I make such a big deal out of my time – this is it. I’ll put it all in this space. Because it matters much more than you think.

Just ask a dead person.

Have you ever been sorely disappointed by a role model? Someone you always looked up to because they always seemed to know what to do? They somehow always knew what the answer was. They could seemingly do no wrong. Could be a parent, a celebrity, a teacher… anyone really.

As you grew up perhaps you started noticing more things that you may have been shielded from as a kid. Perhaps you developed the ability to read between the lines, make your own judgments, process and interpret information with more depth.

As we get older our perceptions change. We notice behavioral patterns we didn’t notice before, understand the unspoken. Sometimes we want to be in denial because we don’t want to lose the image that we have of someone… because it hurts us to realize that a role model could have some serious character flaws.

How do we shield ourselves from that disappointment? As an adult we can’t even do anything reactive about it. It’s uncomfortable to feel resentment towards someone for seemingly deceiving us while really they didn’t even have a responsibility towards us. Or did they?

I think there are certain roles in society that are KNOWN to be role models. The second you become a parent or a teacher for example you should know that there are little souls looking up to you and your behaviors to help them navigate their place in the world. Whether you like it or not by becoming someone in a “leading” position you’ve knowingly volunteered to be a role model. Then it is your responsibility to practice what you preach or think many times about your actions.

Because once those following you lose respect for you there isn’t much one can do to bounce back from that. You’ll still be loved because of a lifelong bond. But the severed closeness can never be repaired.

Being a role model is a huge responsibility and one to be taken very seriously. Loud honesty, and a confrontationally clear mind will go a much longer way than polite deceitfulness.

Turning to being the one whose perception has been changed. How you choose to process the information is on you. Ultimately you can learn and grow from it… while choosing how much space to give yourself once you’ve learned what you’ve needed to learn.

As I get older I introspect more and more to discover more about who I am. I think growing up we often try to mimic/mirror our role models. Usually those are our parents – more specifically when it comes down to morality – most of the time it leans heavily towards the parent who matches the gender we identify with.

For me, that was my mother. As a child, every time I came across a fork in the road I would always mimic what my mother would do. Of course my upbringing, morals, and values were the main guiding factors since our parent’s upbringing shapes the course of our actions. But as I encountered LIFE and all it’s good and bad shades, creating understandings of my own, my reactions to situations started changing.

The truth is, my mother and I are NOTHING alike, so how could I possibly mirror her? She’s mellow, I’m loud. She’s calm, I’m fiery. I’m highly “GO GO GO”, she likes to take her time. Her opinions are influenced by stronger personalities… I’m heavily self-opinionated and difficult to budge. She didn’t have to deal with an identity crisis, I did. She spent her whole life safe, secure, supported, I spent most of mine stranded, alone, figuring things out – swimming against the tide, not following the norm. So many examples not listed, but the point being – given who we are and our life experiences being so different… how then could I ever be at peace living life based on what my mother would do?

This thought started gnawing at me a few years ago when I realized my decisions started diverging from those of what she’d do. I started experiencing immense guilt every time I did something I deemed different from how she would do it. I started feeling shame for things that fell outside of her moral boundaries and understanding even if they were not necessarily wrong for me to do for who I am as a person.

Was I conditioned by the society I was brought up in to think that my core personality was not what it was looking for in a female? But why not? On one hand my kind was “not preferable” and “destructive” but on the other hand my kind was “exciting”, “sought after” and “strong”. What kind of confusing message was that? Why couldn’t I just be me?

Only recently, as I introspect more and more, have I started discovering who I am at my core, primitive self. Why my decisions are justified for me. How my core personality and life experiences won’t allow for her ‘appropriate for her’ mellow, quiet approach to life when I have a passionate wildfire raging through me.

She’s a wonderful person with her pluses, and despite her minuses. But so am I. She fits a norm, but that doesn’t make me wrong. Being her daughter shouldn’t mean I have to be exactly like her. It means that I need to take my core personality, combine it with the elements of my upbringing that I agree with and create the person I am actually supposed to be. Being the personality that is right for me.

It’s amazing to see what wonders a little experience can do for perspective.

Last night I hung out with a friend of mine who, like me, has had his share of life’s experiences. That interaction has been glued to my mind since. As we were chatting, having our heart to heart, he nonchalantly asked me a question regarding my opinion on a matter whose long answer from any one else’s perspective would have brought judgement… but he asked it so sincerely and with so much innate understanding that I noticed! Oh my gosh! I’m sitting in the presence of someone who GETS it!

10 years ago admittedly I’d have judged myself for my answer to this question. Heck, maybe even he would have! Because back then 100% the world was black and white and right or wrong was dictated ONLY by society’s standards. Now, for me, they’re dictated by experience. What happens and whether it is justified or not is based on why it happened.

This friend got that… and it had to be the growth from his own life’s experiences. It has to be because in contrast, recently, someone I once used to consider a safe safe close friend was faced with engaging in the same question. That person’s reactions, needless to say, were the complete opposite. Judgmental, disrespectful, two dimensional.

Last night gave me tremendous perspective… and truly I am always so blessed and excited in the face of such epiphanies.

I realized, there is no sense in building close bonds and wasting time on two dimensional thinkers because they simply will never understand what lies behind doors they have never unlocked. So of course, they are right in their place and I certainly cannot judge them for what they do not know. But being someone who has been enlightened beyond those two dimensions… I now must exclusively seek the close company of multidimensional thinkers.

For they know and understand the things that I know. And that sort of synergy only grows.

“Tu phukat hastes!” (You laugh so easily!) someone I used to know once told me. I didn’t know whether to be offended or not. “No I don’t!” I had exclaimed back but that person wasn’t convinced… and then a few weeks ago my friend who lives in Canada, Saurabh Pendse, told me the exact same thing as we played ping pong in Virtual Reality. I mean really that’s all we were doing, playing table tennis, and yet I too had noticed that the two of us were having fits of giggles here and there. Pretty sure he had started it but of course he had blamed it on me. I’m pretty sure I was only laughing when something funny happened… but then again… I could be wrong, it easily could have actually been me because then I remembered those words from a few years ago… “tu phukat hastes”.

It’s funny because this image that both of these people have of me is so seemingly different than how I thought I saw myself. Brooding perhaps? Internally struggling? I’m that trauma survivor, the “strong” woman who managed to pick herself up but is still afflicted with the PTSD. But you know… come to think of it that comes with a certain type of vibe. I remember the vibe I used to put out when I was going through the so called ‘dark ages’ and it’s nothing like the vibe I feel today which is identical to the vibe I had before.

Perhaps these young men were right. Perhaps I do laugh easily. Perhaps at my core, the essence of Sayli Natu is to be happy. To take enjoyment… pleasure… happiness from the smallest things in life. “Small happinesses” as I call them. To love, to care, to be present in the moment with the friend, family, or acquaintance whose company I’m enjoying at that moment. I’ve noticed even during those so called “dark years” when physically away from what was inflicting my trauma, I was still always smiling and the smile admittedly had come naturally.

So perhaps I do laugh easily. It makes me feel good. Laughing makes everyone feel good… doesn’t it? And I’ve especially noticed that when I start laughing (usually over something others don’t even find funny) – others start laughing too! But just before they do, I always observe their eyes light up in joyful amusement… and then their faces… and then what?

The most beautiful goofy grins spread across their faces before evolving into fits of laughter.

Then… I’m happy. You’re happy. Everyone is happy.

And if that’s the case… then so be it!

Laughter is the best medicine, after all… so we should all engage in it! And we should all engage in it easily ❤

(For non Marathi speakers -Tai translates to “older sister” in English, but it’s often customary to call any older girl (or woman) “Tai” out of respect.)

To be a role model. What does it truly entail?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been “Sayli Tai” to many. Whether they’ve actually gone so far as to calling me ‘Tai’ or not – the weight of that role and the responsibility it holds has always been on the forefront of my mind.

About 15 years ago, a friend of mine (also an older sibling) and I were talking about our younger siblings and discussing what it means to be a “Tai”. At that time she put it beautifully – “You’re not their parent so they can confide in you like a friend, but you’re not their friend so you can guide them like a parent”.

That conversation has stuck with me for life, not only to be applied to my biological little but every little that has come my way for any sort of confiding or guidance. And I believe that is the essence of what it means to be a role model. Then of course everything else follows, i.e. practice what you preach, lead by example… etc.

Last year I had a very sweet young lady reach out to me, initially finding me through dance, but eventually more so because of her curiosity revolving around my blogs and life. Soon thereafter, her questions started to flow in asking for life advice. “Sayli! What did you do when….” or, “Sayli what would you do if…”

So much life advice requested. And so much life advice given. So many stories shared. She grew on me and I found her questions and curiosity endearing. Over time, I started seeing her like a younger sister.

And then one day as we were talking a rather funny image struck my mind. I imagined someone who had lived a full life sitting under a tree in a chair, and a young pigtailed girl laying on the grass head propped up on her hands, elbows to the ground, as she asked questions about life experiences and the elderly woman patiently replied.

Anyway, as time went on, there were many advices I gave her based on my own experiences, many fun snippets of my life that I shared with her – the ups and the downs, and some guidances I gave her – either for or against whatever it was that she wanted to do.

What I did realize from these encounters was that she wasn’t the only person processing and learning from our interactions. The more we interacted, the more I started checking myself because I didn’t want to be that person who didn’t practice what I preached.

One night she said to me, “Sayli, when you’re telling someone ‘no’ you explain ‘why’ so well that we get convinced”. This statement took me back to my 15 year old conversation – “not a parent, but not a friend”.

So then what does it mean to be a role model? I would guess exactly that – To be someone who can be confided in without fear, someone who has an understanding of the world, has experiences of the world, leading by example or from experience while ALSO being able to explain why… not just what.

Not a parent but not a friend… like a parent and like a friend.

And I said to her, “One day I’ll have kids who will be old enough to face various forks in life… and that day perhaps you’ll be able to give them the type of guidance that I am now giving you”

Just a thought:

Competition. Perfection. Grades. Success. Lessons. Growth. Karma.

We’ve always been taught to strive for the best. To work hard. To stare every one of life’s challenges square in the face. We’ve been told to keep getting back up every time life knocks us down. To keep going. We’ve been told to accept everything bad that happens because… hey! Maybe it’s karma! Maybe we did something in a yester-life that resulted in today’s punishment… or maybe it’s a lesson… a challenge to help us grow!

Sometimes, YES we do grow. We do learn. We do advance a level as a human.

But not always. Sometimes, it is too much.

Over this lifetime, we’ve heard so many comments on “oh karma, from a past life” or “Don’t worry, God is watching, god will take care of you” or “God is testing you” etc etc.

Eventually hearing this on repeat gets exhausting. First of all, How many times do you have to keep getting back up before life stops knocking you down?

Secondly, the concept of Karma across lifetimes is completely senseless. If the whole purpose of life (religiously or spiritually speaking) is to attain spiritual perfection then how does being punished for something you don’t even remember doing make sense? We learn and grow when we learn from or are punished for our mistakes… but when we are constantly “punished” and don’t know why… it tends to push us away from walking a so called ‘straight line’.

Sure, the downs are just as important as the ups… but there’s a limit to how much a person can handle. After all, we are only human.

Everything(one) needs polishing. But over polishing can also lead to mishandling causing something or someone to break.

How many and how strenuous of tests must a human go through in life in the pursuit of perfection… before they finally break?

Three years ago when I moved to the bay I took part in a local poetry slam (A poetry competition where you recited poems you have written). It was in a dingy diner in some odd part of town… and it was exactly how we see artsy people hanging out on TV and in movies. Guess that’s one thing they would naturally get right. It was a very different, but amazing experience to say the least. I ended up placing that night, but while it was my second round poem that secured me the prize it was what happened after my first round poem that has forever been etched into my mind.

My first round poem according to me was better than the second, it’s a dialogue between a disheartened individual and their reflection, attempting to remind the individual of who they really are. It was a poem I wrote about the moment that turned my life around when I was at my lowest. Amongst the three judges that night, two liked the poem, the third was completely lost (poem was pretty obvious so I’m quite surprised). But it didn’t matter I was just excited to be able to read.

After the first round ended and just before they were going to announce the finalists who would proceed to the second and final round, a girl approached me through the crowd and suddenly threw her arms around me. I was taken aback initially since I don’t usually hug strangers, but then she started to speak. “Thank you for writing that poem” she started, “regardless of what happens next, I want you to know that it meant SO MUCH to me, I felt it!”. I remember suddenly feeling tears well in my eyes. Not because someone understood my poem, but because my poem had understood HER. Here was someone who was potentially going through something hard, and something I had written had touched her. As a poet and writer, I cannot describe the feeling we get when someone not only understands what we’ve written, but actually FEELS it!

In that moment I reached around her and gave her a tight hug back. Because I figured she probably needed one. Because hugs truly are the most healing thing in the WORLD.

Finally, pulling away she looked me straight in the eyes with an emotion I cannot describe. “Thank you” she said squeezing my hands… before disappearing back into the crowd.

I don’t need anyone. No really I don’t. I am here for everyone, to solve everyone’s problems if they want to confide in me… but me? I’m fine! I’m super strong. I can tackle every single thing on my own.

No really. I’m not lying. I can tackle every single thing on my own. And if there are people involved in anything I’m trying to do and they let me down… it’s okay! Because I can just cut them out emotionally on a moment’s notice and I’m fine!

I started noting this behavior of mine… early on in life but it really accelerated the past few years. I started coming up with plan B’s for every single scenario. I imagine the worst possible scenario for every event and have a plan in case it comes true. And even if it’s not coming true ever, I just assume it’s true anyway and enact plan b.

Hyper independence.

I started noticing it more recently but didn’t know what it was… and then I came across an article about hyper independence.

And how it’s a response to trauma. (If you know you know. If you don’t know feel free to ask just don’t make assumptions)

It’s often mistaken for extreme strength. “You’re so so strong! The strongest person I know!” Everyone says. And I am. I really am the strongest person I know too… because now my emotions don’t rely on anyone else. I have zero expectations from anyone else. Actually that’s not true – I expect everyone to eventually dump me from their lives.

Because I don’t trust anyone.

I believe everyone will come to me when they want something, good times will be temporary, and they will go away when they don’t need me anymore. When they get what they came for.

I minimize myself to an object to be used, strong enough to maintain the look of being brand new even after being used. I’m no longer a human in my own eyes.

And so I expect everyone to come, and then go. And I protect myself with my hyper independence. Because I don’t need anyone. Apparently. Because at some point I assume everyone in my life is just going to do what their predecessors did. Use and throw. In whatever way that may be.

So I only rely on myself. Even I only see the strong woman who puts a smile on every day and tackles the world doing amazing things. Even I don’t see the small girl curled up into the corner of my heart, scared, sad, wanting, desiring…

Strength. I am strong! I kept telling myself..

Until I came across this article detailing my every ultra strong behavior, taking apart my psychology. Until I realized that I’m not strong at all, I’ve just managed to survive the worst things in life. And so… I’ve grown a tough skin with a stone cold heart.

Congratulations, Trauma. You won.

At 31, or possible much before this time, I have started wondering this. Have any of you in the same age group or past this age ever felt the same?

I know who I am, what I’m capable of, and what I put into this world. But the fact of the matter is these days – the things I’m capable of – I’m not putting into the world… and the things I put into the world I’m not getting back.

I’ve always been an artistic being. An avid reader and writer, a passionate dancer and performer. I spent my 20s putting these things out into the world. I thrived and enjoyed myself greatly with each class of Kathak, or each stage performance/Natak. I put my heart and soul into it and for the levels I was at, I excelled. And then all of a sudden, about 2 years ago I ran out of gas. Completely. I found it impossible to stay motivated. Impossible to be creative. Life urges me to do more and I just can’t. And it scares me. Is it just a function of age and/or changing priorities? I feel my happiness diminish as I feel these things start slipping out of my desires. I want more, but I don’t have the energy to even try.

For the things I put into the world – I have always, ALWAYS, prioritized being a good person. Doing the right thing. Putting others and their needs ahead of my own. Caring deeply about even the worst of people who didn’t hesitate to hurt me. Even after they hurt me. Always trying my best to treat people the way I would want to be treated in any given scenario. How many people can genuinely say they’ve been a shoulder to lean on for a complete stranger? I can. That’s who I am, and of course I have no expectations from strangers. But what of non-strangers? Do I have the right to have expectations? I realized with time that the world doesn’t care for all that. There is nothing to get back.

Lately I’ve found myself silently begging. For attention. For love. For time. For people to put the same energy into me that I put into them… not saying anything however when nothing comes of it.

Strong shoulders to lean on are returned with blank stares and generic responses.

Genuine concern is returned with irritation

Unlimited access to my time and energy is returned with… well nothing.

Quite literally I find myself sitting around waiting until someone needs me for something. What kind of life is that?

Some may say I shouldn’t have expectations but why shouldn’t I damn it? Truth is I don’t from everyone, but I do from some! Does being the bigger person mean that you just keep giving and expect nothing in return from everybody?? I’m only human?

Then I realize that there isn’t a lack of people that want to treat me the way I want to be treated. I’m just not giving them the importance that I should. We sit around waiting for someone to give us the attention we crave while ignoring the people that crave our attention. Sad part being every time I come to this conclusion and refocus my attentions, the blame of pulling away is put on me. Conveniently, it’s no one else’s fault.

And then I’m back to square 1.

I wonder if I’m wasting my life. Perhaps I am. Actually, I am. I literally am. Perhaps it is time to re-prioritize my activities, goals, and heck even people in a way isn’t followed by a back peddle.

Have you ever been minding your own business in life when stopped dead in your tracks by the most numbingly captivating sound?

It could be the sound of gentle birdsong… bringing serenity to the mind

Or, the sound of a beautiful voice that sends euphoric chills down the spine

It could be a breeze’s soft whistle… bringing peace to the soul

Or meditative chanting… moving the body as a whole

Have you ever been stopped by a sound so enchanting that it raised goosebumps upon the skin, caused your heart to start racing… your head to spin?

To see the tears from your own eyes roll down someone else’s face. It’s a pain that hurts the most.

You feel the pain so deeply but have ran out of tears for something that once nearly brought you to an end. You simply don’t care for that thing, but you care for those tears, misspent.

You feel helpless because you so want to do and say the right thing to help but have no idea what to say cause you know how it once felt. You’ve walked a million miles in those shoes before handing them down to the face that now has your tears. You know that no matter what you say it’s not going to make a difference because only time and a change in mindset and perspective will heal what broke.

You feel angry because you see someone shutting down like you almost once did. When shutting down would have been the biggest mistake of your life. Shutting down will be the biggest mistake of their life.

And in that moment you suddenly feel your face and voice go emotionless. Blank. Blank because your mind quickly locks away the memory of how it felt to be broken by something that had no right to break someone as strong as you. Blocks the emotion that could destroy you.

Anger.

Why me? I didn’t deserve this.

No you don’t. So don’t do that to yourself.

If I could do it, I know so can you.

I rose from the ashes, and you will too.

असाही एक काळ होता जेव्हा माझ्यात झेप घेण्याची हिम्मत नव्हती
पण मी (झेप) घेतली आणि उंच उडाले,

…तू पण उडशील…

Here’s to the annual ‘how did this year’ go post as we transition into a new year.

Honestly the answer is “in the blink of an eye”. The thing is, this year was very different from the years in the past decade. Previously, there was a lot of learning, a lot of growing, a lot of changes both externally and internally happening depending on what year it was and what was happening. This year was all about stability.

This year was different in the sense that I reached a place of zen in my life. For once, nothing was different. Except for a few health based hiccups that resolved with time… The year just ended. I’m happier. I’ve become one with whatever wisdom I’ve gained in prior years.

I’m genuinely happy. Yes the people around me have helped, but my happiness for once isn’t dependent on anyone else but myself.

Covid is still going on? – no big deal… it is what it is just keep doing what I can to obstruct it

Life didn’t go as planned? There’s plenty of time and if I run out of time to do whatever, then I’ll just find a better way to replace that time.

People, close ones, who have been given way too many chances just can’t seem to treat me with love, care, respect? It’s okay, can’t force love on someone anyway, I know I’m a good person. I’m happy. I’m thriving. I’m not the problem so I’m not going to entertain the people who don’t deserve to be entertained anymore.

Instead I chose to focus on all the love this year brought has brought me.

A closer relationship with my in laws who believe it or not behave more like blood family than even blood family itself for which I am so blessed.

A husband who plays multiple roles in my life to ensure my safety, security, and stability.

An entire huge long lost branch of my family that we finally reconnected with thanks to genetic testing!

Friends old and new who continue to make me SO happy. I got closer to friends I hadn’t seen in so long. And with all friends, work friends, old work friends, America friends, India friends, kids 10 years younger than me, uncles and aunties 20 years older than me – every interaction felt so much more personal and close. Late night convos, smiles plastered onto our faces because the convos are just too funny. Just too warm. Intimate. Happy. These are the amazing people who fill all the gaps that family and spouses naturally can’t – so guys we have to give more credit to friends than Indian culture usually does. Friends are not outsiders. They are the family we choose with our hearts! It’s the family that is always growing because the heart has an unlimited amount of space!

Basically all in all, except for very few transient things, it was a very normal year (which is abnormal in itself). The only thing that changed is that I finally distanced myself from all things toxic for my health by officially breaking ties with anyone or anything that threatened my sanity, and only allowed the love in my heart to grow.

On this last day on 2021, though the world is still up in flames thanks to COVID, I am finally at peace. It’s a year I’m thankful for 🙏🏼

Now to see what 2022 has to bring.

Have you ever met a person with whom you felt a strange almost magnetic pull towards in the very first moment you met them?

We meet new people all the time. Some of them go on to become our best friends, some even lovers or spouses. But the type of person I’m talking about here doesn’t necessarily fall into any of these categories. This person may or may not be an important part of our lives. Heck, they may not even hold any sort of special title in our lives. No, this bond is unnamed, and yet it has a stronger pull than magnets.

What to call such a bond? It could happen with anyone really, outside the boundaries of age or gender. It could be the sweet grandmotherly woman you helped out on the street, or it could be the toddler boy who grabbed your leg for a second thinking you were his mother. It could be that random person with piercing soulful eyes at the wedding party whose aura shined brighter than anyone else’s in the room, or… it could also be the young man halfway across the world who you’ll never see again selling you a product from his shop.

I’m never sure what to do with people like these when I meet them. A temporary interaction feels wrong, it should be more permanent. Denying this stranger a close bond under any circumstances feels unnatural. Giving the unknown so much importance is considered wrong in our society, but that wrong feels right. Why is there such soulful depth to these existent non-existent relationships? Is it because the universe meant for that bond to exist and therefore we must respect it? No matter how much we try to forget it or separate from it, it is something we have no control over.

What gives the feeling of, “I feel like I’ve known you forever” when it’s only been a few minutes? What gives the feeling of, “I can’t stay away even if I want to, even if I should”. The feeling of, “I care about your wellbeing even though I don’t really know you”. Is it proof that we’ve had past lives wherein said person held an incredibly powerful position? Or maybe they didn’t, but we happened to know them in another lifetime so their aura calls to us and gives us the feeling of home? It’s kind of like meeting that Aunty who has a similar personality to your mom, so you are naturally drawn to sticking around her at social events – but across several lifetimes.

Quite literally speaking, when two magnets are stuck together and you try to pull them apart, they fight all opposing forces to try and stay together. Sure, we can pull them apart if our force outpowers theirs, but regardless of our strength and the high potential for their failure – the force pulling them together never ceases to exist. Put in close enough proximity to one another, they’ll snap right back together as though they were never separated. In fact, they’ll snap tightly together even if they’ve never “seen” each other before.

The magnetic pull between two souls feels the same way. As much as you try to minimize their importance, their existence, their pull – you just can’t. You don’t necessarily have to have any emotions towards that person, or care for them in anyway even – but nevertheless their presence pulls you closer to them. Their soul makes you feel like you’re finally in the right place.

This is what the pull between two magnetic souls feels like. And blessed are those of us who have experienced the nonverbal tug, the nonverbal closeness of it at least once in our lives.

The past few weeks I’ve been having intense convos with multiple people about “self-love” so today I want to start writing a multi part series about it. While it’s a long journey, I personally have reached a place of self-content thanks to the amazing support system I’ve had, but I realized that there are people around me who now need the push I once got.

This isn’t just my story. It’s many of ours.

Life is beautiful. Life also sucks. Amazing things happen in life – like making new friends, achieving goals, falling in love. Horrible things happen too – the people who are supposed to love us, don’t. We are unsuccessful at meeting goals. The people we trust cheat us. The lists could go on…

Over the years I’ve noticed that we all tie a lot of our self worth to the actions of other people. She didn’t love me, I must not be worthy of being loved. He cheated me, I must have deserved it. They didn’t protect me, I must be disposable. I must have no value.

I don’t deserve to be happy.

I. Don’t. Deserve. To. Be. Happy.

And slowly but steadily, this one small thought, put in our minds by the actions of others, becomes a belief we stick to more strongly that religious fanatics stick to their religions.

Why??

Why do we give other people so much importance that we allow their behavior towards us to dictate how we perceive ourselves?? If no one knows me better than myself, then why don’t I trust myself over others??

After the immense trauma I went through a few years ago it’s been a long long journey towards healing, but I can’t blame it all on those few very scary years. The truth is that the seeds of self doubt had been planted at a much younger age. Was it not being Indian/American enough? Was it being born a girl? Was it being too skinny? Was it not being tall enough. Not fair enough, pretty enough, smart enough? A different race? A different religion? What was it??

No matter how “enough” I wasn’t, the fact is that I was always still a human. I was always still deserving of love and protection and care! We all are… but unfortunately, the world is sadistic, existing to bog us down.

It didn’t take long for the uncontrollable horrible truths of the world to slap me in the face and in no time I started believing – I deserve to be unhappy. It was after that point that the self sabotage started. If I was happy I would find a way to minimize myself. I would create worst case scenarios in my head and let myself physically feel the pain of them because all of a sudden pain was the state of mind that I felt the most comfortable in because that’s what I deserved.

Or so I thought.

Inflicting pain on oneself is unnatural. Imagine the duration of and the degree of mental manipulation that had occurred to get me to this space. I had successfully allowed people who didn’t care about me to dictate what my identity was.

Pain. Rejection. Disposability.

Then one day, I woke up. And thank goodness that I did. One day as I was wallowing in my misery, I thought to myself:

I’m a good person. I care about people from deep within.

I’m an empath.

I am successful.

The world is full of 8 billion people. Sure there are people triggering my self doubt… but there are a lot more people who love me (like my husband! And my best friends!). There are people who admire me. Want me in their lives. Who care for me, who fight for me. Who do have my back!

I am worth it.

Why had I spent so many years giving importance to the people who constantly broke my resolve while conveniently ignoring the people who wanted to help build me up?

In fact, forget people, both the good and the bad. Why didn’t I pay attention to myself??

As I said above, no one on this planet knows me better than myself. No one loves me more than I do. Then why wasn’t I taking care of myself? Why wasn’t I focusing on all the amazing things about me? Why wasn’t I tying my self worth to my own knowledge of me!

I’m strong. I’m independent. I’m capable.

I love myself. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be surrounded with love. I am indispensable.

Truth is, it took half a decade and counting for me to even start believing these words. It has by far been the hardest journey I have ever taken. Harder than any form of neglect or abuse I have ever endured. But no matter how hard it is, fact is that self love is the most important thing every person must ensure they have in their lives.

It’s not easy but we all have to start somewhere. For those of you who have never had to take this journey, good for you. For those of you who have been in my old shoes – let today be the day you start telling yourself the right positive things about yourself.

It may seem like a lie today, but I promise that eventually you’ll start believing. Eventually you’ll start loving yourself. Eventually, you’ll start trusting your own version of you.

The most accurate version of you.

“Sayli ahe ka ghari?” ‘Is Sayli home?’

These simple words spoken to my MIL by my friend Ashwini touched my soul so deeply in that moment! What was so exciting about hearing something so common?

To give a little background – we were in India and I was actually going to be leaving for America later that night. I had already seen my friends the night before for dinner, and that same morning I had seen Ashwini and her husband Mrugank again at the COVID testing lab. After our tests, I had said my goodbyes to Mrugank since he had to go to work after. Ashwini had mentioned she would stop by later, but somehow in that moment the way she did it, took me back to a younger time!

The last time someone came knocking to ask a parental figure if I was at home and/or free was when I was 9 years old and my friends wanted me to come out and play. That way of checking in person to see if a friend was in was so sweet! In recent times, it’s usually a text or a call announcing that someone plans to head over followed by a long wait until they finally arrive. Of course, that’s always more convenient but there are emotions tied to old memories okay! Ashwini’s arrival and hearing her voice ask my MIL the question before I could see her took me back to that childhood memory.

I had a similar feeling earlier that day as well. As I was sitting in the balcony chatting with my cousin who I hadn’t seen in years, our other friends (Abhinav and Neha) pulled up on their bike downstairs. I was filled with delight seeing the two as my husband asked them what they were up to. “We’re stopping by to say bye to Sayli!”. Once again I was caught by surprise because people were showing up places in India… looking for me!

Of course our friend’s actions were completely natural and even expected perhaps! But the fact is, I think our life and social practices in America are so different that these things don’t really happen. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in person and say goodbye, maybe shoot a text, but certainly not stop by! The truth is I’m that weird person who attaches an emotion to everyone’s actions, and notices every small little nice thing people do for me. Heck, I’m that weird person that becomes delightfully sentimental about everything!

But in this case why shouldn’t I be?

It may have taken 31 years… but for the first time, these people, these friends… my extended family…. Made me feel truly at home on the opposite side of the world ❤️

Early December 2021

Ding dong, the doorbell rang at my in laws place.

I got up in my newly bought Indian nightgown (that only moms wear but I was SO HOT and needed some air 🤣). I opened the door not knowing that yet another pivotal life moment was about to occur, you know, the kind that occurs every time you meet someone you’ll shortly connect with on a more than just an acquaintances level.

Two brothers stood on the other side of the door. “Pull the door behind you” I said as I welcomed these soon not to be strangers in. They both stared at me for a second cause I sounded weird (weird American accent and all).

The rest is history.

——

In all honesty, over the course of this India trip preparing for my Sister in law’s wedding, I came across many people I connected with on a much deeper level than just the generic acquaintance I won’t remember tomorrow.

Whether it was dance practices, or getting our nails done, or decorating for the mehndi party – I was blessed to meet the sweetest people that I would have befriended independently of an intermediary had our paths crossed organically. There was no boundary of gender, no boundary of age as I am pretty sure some of the girls were a good 10 years younger than me, or aunties were old enough to be my mom. I connected with each of them the exact same!

The day I left, I had tears in my eyes for the first time ever leaving India… trust me when I say I *never* cry leaving India because I’m just so excited to get back home. But that day, I did. I could have done with 3-4 days more to get the full closure I needed with all the friends and family I would soon leave behind. In the hustle and bustle of the wedding, I needed just a few more post wedding hours with each person or group to feel content with going home. *I’m going to write more in depth separately about my already existing friends in a separate blog*

I kept telling people the feeling I felt was bittersweet because that’s what I usually feel. But now that I’m hardly an hour from touching down SFO, I realize the feeling was just bitter.

I met so many new people, each one changing my life for the better, but the best part of this trip was that I got to know my in laws better. When my sister in law left (albeit very briefly) I felt extremely lost in the house. I couldn’t do without her presence! I had long chats with my mother in law, and jokes with my Father in law. During your own wedding you’re so busy you don’t get a chance to really bond, especially as a foreigner, but this time we finally got to do that! I also got to know my SIL’s family closely, and they too turned out to be such wonderful warm people! Her MIL kept me in mind and gave me two packs of my favorite “chiwda” before I left!

Anyhow, I’ll surely miss each and every person I met, or bonded further with, and will carry those memories with me till next time!

To be continued next time… (not via Pune Darshan 😉)

😎

I wonder who I would have been if my life was still where it had started.

Who would I have been had I grown up in India?

Who would I have been if I had grown up in Michigan?

What experiences would I have had?

Who would have been my closest friends? Who would I have dated, married? Who would I have loved?

What would my profession have been?

What would my skill sets have been?

Would I have had hobbies that I don’t have today?

What knowledge would I hold?

What happy memories? What sorrows?

What would the lives of the people who do know me today have been like if I wasn’t ever in it?

Who knows? The unknown will always remain an unknown… without a butterfly effect

“CONTINUE CPR!”

“CAN WE GET ANOTHER EPI?!” the 30 something year old doctor yelled.

I rushed to grab the pre-filled syringe, popping off the yellow caps and screwing the two parts together before handing it to the 30 something year old nurse.

Chaos. Saving lives. Every single one of us 30 something year olds were playing our parts perfectly.

I blinked

I saw children surrounding me dressed as doctors… nurses… respiratory therapists. Myself, dressed as a pharmacist, heck…couldn’t be any older than 10… right?

I blinked. The 30 something year olds were back. Huddled, moving fast, making decisions. Does he live? Or should we call it?

For any profession, any role we play in life really…

When did this happen? Who put us in charge?! Where are the real adults at???

Today I had the good fortune to be reunited with two very dear friends from the past. It had been a while. A very very long while.

Of course I was intermittently in touch with them throughout the years, but I mean these people were a constant in my daily life 17-15 years ago. Way before college. Before everyone gained their independence and subsequently lost their innocence.

I was 15 when we all formed a group. It was basically a huge chunk of all the Indian kids in Sacramento uniting into a big old friend circle. This circle would last for another two three years before some, and eventually all, would go their separate ways to their respective colleges, each forming new circles of their own. Eventually most of us lost touch, some only intermittently catching up. Sadly today our group no longer exists in the way that it did back then which is crazy because back then, on a daily basis, they meant the world to me! And for the sake of memories, today I realized they still do.

Today my friend circle consists mainly of people who have only known me for the past 2-3 years, maybe 5-6 years at that. The point being that they all know me as I am today, post all my traumas, post all the ups and downs of my life. They don’t know me. They don’t know what made me who I am today. They didn’t live through those time with me. And I too became so involved in my present day life that even I forgot who I used to be a mere 15 years ago.

15 years. Shit.

I was the complete opposite of who I am today. A baby. A baby with plans and so many barriers and expectations that would come to crush me in the following years. Of course I didn’t know that then.

But I don’t mean for that to sound dark. No, the truth is, I LOVED that version of myself. I was confident. Maybe too much, but that confidence was so important! I knew what I wanted, what I believed, my self worth… and most importantly I was never confused. My whole life still laid out ahead of me and whatever I wanted was mine to have if I just reached for it! Innocent, young, fresh, and with a zeal for life. So much potential… that was me! I smile now, envious of my past self, at how carefree that time was. Before the sadistic cruel universe exposed itself to me, like it does to us all. Of course, eventually I grew up, stood up, dusted my behind off and bounced back….

… But talking to these old friends today took me back. It had been so long but suddenly it was as though we had travelled back in time. Regardless of who we are today, I only remembered that version of them… and they only remembered that version of me.

It was like hitting a reset button to function better. To remember.

It was so nice to remember that there was a version of me that was light before the darkness. Innocent before the experience. Here were the people who knew me for who I truly am/was before the world jaded me.

It gave me hope. Because I know that girl is still me. She’s still in there. She still has the world laid out ahead of her!

And as brief as it may have been, always is, it’s nothing short of magic. Sometimes when we need a break from our mundane busy adult lives … it’s nice to be able to grab that friend from an era you want to remember and just travel back to that time with them ✨

To life long friendships, to the people who knew the original version of me… cheers 🍻

Something the newer generation only knows about when it comes to work or school.

Today I was exchanging emails with a friend about music. Ok fine we’re coworkers but he’s more so my friend and the topic of discussion being Hindustani vs Western music, had nothing to do with work. But sending emails back and forth suddenly brought back memories of middle and highschool and subsequently made me smile!

In the age of texting, obviously email for casual convos has become outdated. But as I got ready to go to bed, I did my last check. Texts – cleared. Social media? Cleared. WhatsApp – cleared. Email – one unread message from “Timmy Weeps”.

And suddenly at 31 I literally got that same feeling of excitement we used to get as kids seeing an email from a friend in your inbox! Whether it was the girl my age I had befriended touring Northern India, or the dude who I saw every single day in highschool cause he was literally my best friend… seeing a new email in my inbox has always been exciting! To read what someone has taken the time to write and then to respond to it has always been so meaningful to me! Truth be told I haven’t deleted a single email from a friend in my life, and sometimes when I stumble across them again – they always make me smile.

I guess to put it into perspective, it’s also the same feeling I get when someone sends me a letter in the post mail once in a blue moon. I’d argue that excitement is even greater. Literally be it friends from Sac, from San Diego, or my parents… heck if my husband ever considered leaving me notes even just around the house (which he never does but if he did) that would possibly make my life 🤣 – literally more so than anything materialistic he could ever give me – his words would be priceless.

I guess being a writer I’m a sucker for words so also a sucker for friends and family taking the time to write something and send it to me. In addition to words, there’s also the point that someone spent their valuable time on and for me! I would be so over the moon if a friend (even if it was someone I haven’t talked to in years) randomly decided to email me one day instead of texting me… how silly of a thing to find pleasure in right? But I guess that’s just me…

Texts – they’re just too casual. Too easy. Emails and Letters – if you can do that, you’ve got me hooked as a friend for life 🙏🏼

About 4-5 years ago, my life came to a screeching halt as my world shattered around me. Since I was a little girl, I had been taught to walk on only one path… and that was the only path I knew. As I got older, at one point despite realizing that something was wrong with the path I was taking, I kept trying to walk it. Every time I turned to elders or other loved ones, they gave me the best and only advice they knew – keep walking.

Keep walking. On a path that I knew was a dead end. A dead end. But it was the only path I knew. The only path I could see. The normal way to do things.

And as my world fell apart with each realization that this path was the wrong one, I was so scared to accept it because I didn’t think I had any other way to go. I didn’t want to disrespect or bring shame by deviating so I kept walking… until I hit that dead end.

I had two options. Stop here and wallow, or disobey everything I’d ever known and walk off the path. I eventually chose to disobey. And trust me that was the best decision I’ve ever made. I chose to pave my own path. I decided that walking away from a shattered life with courage was better than just stopping where the shards lay. I didn’t know what to expect but it didn’t matter. There came a point where the situation became SO apparent that it didn’t matter anymore if my friends supported me, if my family supported me, if my parents agreed.

Yes, of course there has to be a degree of respect for elders and loved ones. But as an adult, we also need to know where the boundary is between respecting them and ruining your own life following instructions from people who haven’t been there or done that! Instead, tell them where you’re going, why, and ask them to support you.

There comes a point where, with all due respect, you have to look out for yourself and do what’s good for you. See the thing is, after a certain age no one is going to know what is right or wrong for you, except for you. As an adult (and I’m not talking legally, I’m talking about when your brain is considered fully developed – so think “25”), you have to make that call. You have to have the strength to support yourself. You must learn acceptance, you must learn how to digest, and then you MUST pursue your own happiness.

People know your name, not your story. They’ve heard what you’ve done, but don’t understand what you’ve been through. So take their opinions of you with a grain of salt. In the end it’s not what others think, but what you think of yourself that counts. Sometimes you have to do what’s right for you, and sometimes that may not be what everyone else thinks is right.

I chose to deviate with the full understanding and acceptance that I may not have a normal life after that point. But regardless, I told myself that I would damn well still achieve ALL the things I had originally set out to.

But…

On my OWN terms.

And guess what? I damn well did.

You damn well should too.

Huh? Lol, weird title.

But the truth is that as I grow into myself, I realize that who I am does vary greatly from who I am. Yeah yeah, I know it sounds confusing. What is this crazy girl rambling about. Why is she rambling when she isn’t even going to go into specifics.

Let me explain it simply. I’m starting to realize, who I am (like at the core, deep down inside) isn’t all that identical to who I am as a person.

There are times I feel like who I am, what I believe in, how I choose to live my life are heavily influenced by the morals and values instilled in me by my upbringing and my environment.

Who I am, however, has been heavily influenced by my experiences. It’s been heavily influenced by my experiences challenging what used to be my understanding of my/the world.

I’ll occasionally find myself wanting to do something (don’t worry, nothing horrible), feeling it’s 100% justified in my newer understanding of the world… but I won’t do it because it heavily contradicts the beliefs I have that I was brought up with.

Yeah it’s vastly confusing. Maybe even at this point most of you have no idea what I’m rambling about. But for the few of you that do – I’d love to hear your thoughts 1:1 🙏🏼

Where does our innocence go?

In that first moment out of our mother’s womb…. that first moment when we open our eyes, and take our first breath – we are in our most innocent form.

Not yet tainted by the worlds vices and corruption. The color of our skin doesn’t matter. The barriers of beliefs don’t exist.

We don’t have experiences to jade us, influences to negatively affect us.

In that first moment we are a blank sheet of paper, who’s life is about to start being penned.

So where then does it go?? When does it go? Is it from that next moment – where paper meets pen?

It’s crazy how we can close our eyes and so vividly slip into memories. We can bring back people who have passed away… hear their voices. We can create an interaction with them as if it really happened.

We can close our eyes and remember memories with old flames who today live the lives of strangers.

We remember good times with old friends we have lost touch with.

We can slip into the bodies of our younger selves… and relive moments as clearly as the day they happened…

What’s crazier are the emotional responses these memories trigger.

Yesterday I posted about my Aaji (grandmother) and a childhood friend from India commented. Suddenly I was drawn back to the annual trips to India staying at Aaji’s place. Drawn back to always going next door to that friend’s place to play. Climbing into the windows which had bars so we wouldn’t fall. One summer I was introduced to the concept of playing on the gacchi (terrace) with a group of friends. It was the summer of my first kiddy crush – I just didn’t know it. I smile fondly. It was the best India trip ever. I’m still in awe that it’s been 20 years since.

And that window with bars – I remember my frail old grandmother’s silhouette as she waved goodbye to us from it every time it was time to come back to America. Of course, the tears even today make their appearance.

On another note, a dream yesterday triggered a memory of an acquaintance, social media friend at best. I knew her back in my college days… I’d say by association. Friend of an old flame’s we can say but that’s insignificant in this story. I always did like her very much, but never really made much of an effort back then. I remember the first time learning about her because old flame had reacted so funnily to my answer on a question he had asked me about her. I literally woke up feeling regret for not making more of an effort to befriend her. So random considering it’s been a decade and I definitely don’t spend time thinking about her. We talk now and then – just making polite small talk or reacting to stories – so I wondered if it would be super weird to overshare these very random feelings to someone who is almost a stranger today. I guessed it would be, so ultimately I didn’t say anything at all.

Closing my eyes, sometimes I can still remember who I was at 7, who I was at 15…. Who I was at 23… the naive girl I was before I grew up, evolving into the person I am today. I remember the person I was before I had baggage and I wonder if she was better… or if I am better off today.

I’ve been writing about memories lately because I’ve been stuck in them. Moreso because of how vividly they come. Damn and praise these memories simultaneously because…

The memories bring back memories bring back…

All of you

I now understand why the camera’s flash once startled my grandmother.

About a decade ago, a few years before my dear paternal grandmother passed away, I had asked her to teach me how to drape a traditional nauvari sari from scratch. She was a very old woman who hailed from the times when it was a woman’s daily attire so yes, she draped one daily till her last breath.

She pulled out a navy blue sari to teach me (one she left specifically for me to have after she had passed away). Once I had managed to master the art I wanted someone to take a picture but unfortunately the only person around at that moment was her. I say unfortunately because she was lingering upon 90 years of age and likely had no idea how to use a camera.

Now let me humor you if you’re my age, and be serious for the present and future generations that may or may not read – “Back in those days” (lol) we had digital cameras (and before that we had to drop rolls of film off at Costco but I digress). I handed my grandmother the camera but not before wrapping its string around her wrist. I told her where to look and where to click to take a photo. I posed, and her slightly trembling frail hands positioned themselves to take a picture of me.

She clicked. It flashed. She dropped the camera in fright and stumbled two steps backwards.

Luckily the string was still around her wrist but even otherwise I clearly remember that moment. I remember feeling so much love for the poor old woman in her moment of fright and immediately explained to her what had happened so she wouldn’t be afraid.

Why am I telling you this story? Hah… cause I realized that no matter how “cool” and “in” we are today, there will come a day when technology will go beyond our understanding. For my grandmother it was a digital camera. For me…

It’s tiktok 🤣

(And the more recent social media trends and updates)

It’s really true, your 20s pass by in the blink of an eye. More likely than not, it’s the best decade of a person’s life no matter what their experiences are (I say this despite being someone who had a partially horrible 20s).

This morning I woke up having just dreamt of a UOP SASA (the Indian club during college) reunion. Because it was a private collage, the Indian community was relatively “small” so everyone knew each other regardless of what year they were. Every year we had two major parties – Diwali and an end of the year Banquet. Let me tell you – for a private college and a small community… we knew how to party hard and had a BLAST.

This dream threw me back 10-13 years and nostalgia kicked in. I’m not sure if having good memories is a good thing (because I know I lived those happy moments), or a bad thing (because my heart yearns for them). Anyhow, I promptly went to Facebook and revisited the UOP SASA page (which I hadn’t even thought of in years!). Lo and behold, scrolling back enough, all posts and photos were still there and a smile crept onto my almost tearing face.

College was such a good time, I’m not sure why I had spent so much of it so stressed out about life instead of just enjoying myself (more). I definitely took that time for granted because I didn’t know any better. The only worry I should have had was ensuring I got good grades (which I did… but so why did I bother caring about anything else?)

The rest of my 20s… minus the one big bad blotch that I figure we may as well conveniently forget, were also amazing. My life in San Diego – Natak practices and shows, friends all living a bachelor and pseudo bachelor life… hanging out every single day on a moment’s notice…

THOSE were the days.

Sometimes I squeeze my eyes shut and beg the universe to let me go back to 18 so that I can redo it all over again. But hey, hindsight is 20/20 and the cruel reality is that we can’t actually redo anything.

Is my life good now? Yes frankly it’s amazing… but that youthful and exciting sense of having the world’s choices in front of me doesn’t exist anymore and truthfully sometimes I yearn for it. Now it’s all work, grown up responsibilities, the stress of needing to buy a house we can’t afford in the ridiculously expensive Bay Area, the stress of having to have a baby because the bioclock is ticking even though mentally we still need one last hurrah (thanks/no thanks COVID for pushing that back another 2 years).

I’m still “young” but it’s starting… that feeling that my body is aging. We can’t physically time travel… but I guess the Universe did give us a substitute/alternate pseudo-method…

…our memories

Did you die? Or did you survive?

Never before have I ran over an animal while driving. Anytime I’ve ended up in that situation, I’ve managed to swerve around it or slam the brakes.

Today, I’d like to think I dodged it… but I’m not sure. And it’s been on my mind since. Why run across the street when cars are zooming by?? Why cross the street at all?? What is across the street that you can’t get on the side of the street that you’re on??

Ok I know there must be a reason why the squirrel wanted to cross the street… but in that moment I found myself wondering… what was so important for this little guy that he had to cross?? I didn’t feel my car go over anything, and in that flash of a moment I thought I saw it stop, away from my car… perhaps turn around and run back. Horrified I looked looked at my rear view mirror to see if there was any roadkill. I don’t think I saw anything at all…. then again I was also driving at 40mph and had to pay attention to the busy road ahead of me… so I only got a glance.

Then another squirrel crossed my path. Damn it I thought. No I didn’t hit it, I watched it safely cross. I don’t think I hit the first one either… but it got me thinking. Just like us they have intention, they have a thought process.

Just like us, sometimes they want or need to cross the street! Just like us…

They’ve got their day’s work laid out for them!

“If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans”

This quote stuck with me the second I read it a few years ago. How true is it that often times we spend so much time thinking about our futures and how to secure them. We think, “What do I need to do NOW to be happy and comfortable later?!”

We plan and we plan… and then nothing goes accordingly. Shit happens! Life changes, decisions change at the spur of a second. Sometimes it’s frustrating, sometimes it’s a pleasant surprise.

I guess considering the uncertainty of things it’s better to just make non-specific plans and just focus on pursuing your own happiness instead. That’s what life has taught me!

My entire childhood I was a staunch planner. Everything had a deadline to be met. For example growing up my plan was “Finish my education early, work, be happily married early, finish having kids by 30”.

My actual life: sure finished education early, but now taking classes at UCLA in a completely different field (❌), had a tumultuous life through my ENTIRE 20s (❌), happily married, but at 29.5 (❌), start thinking about kids AFTER 31 (❌).

Shit happened!

But now, I’ve been better off since the day I stopped planning and started focusing on just being happy. I made plans but didn’t put deadlines on them… and I learned to be more flexible and stress less. Now shit can happen all it wants to… but it doesn’t matter.

I’ll still find a way to be at peace, and be happy ✌🏼

I

“Shouldn’t you be careful about getting into cars with strangers? What if I kidnap you?” He said.

She laughed as she got into the passenger seat of his white sedan. He was mimicking her. She had said the exact same thing to him a year ago, a whopping 36 hours and two random but very brief encounters after they’d first met. He had shot back with, “What’s 5ft you gonna do to 6ft me?”.

He had truly been a stranger then. In some sense… even now he was. A year ago, working graveyard hours (overnight), they had ran into each other by chance in the huge maze of a Hospital they both worked at. Specifically, around the stressful circumstance of a mutual patient’s flip coin chance of living… or dying.

The first time, they had exchanged a few formalities and then had gone their separate ways. Their professions usually didn’t make an effort to get to know one another. 24 hours later, they had ran into each other by chance again. This time randomly in a dimly lit, seemingly deserted hallway. They were going the same way, so they had walked together. Just a few hours later, these chance encounters and a connection over a mutually stressful life had led to him getting into her car. She had then asked the now humorous question out of semi-concern but mostly amusement. He was, after all, a freshly graduated doctor to her 6 years of being a practicing inpatient pharmacist. 5 years younger than her, she had felt responsible. He had trusted her so easily. But then again, she had too, hadn’t she? Before they knew it they had talked about everything over a 4 hour breakfast. A spontaneous move, completely contrary to her personality.

Then, they never really spoke ever again. Irrelevant to one another’s lives.

Until…

Two nights ago – again on graveyards – as chance would have it they unexpectedly had ran into one another again. Again, under the same circumstance – a patient’s emergency resuscitation. The next 48 hours were a blur. Then, this morning as the sun rose partially hidden behind rainy clouds, this time she found herself getting into his car to drive exactly 2 minutes across campus for a 15 min de-stress walk.

As they started walking, he noticed that she was extremely tense. Was it because of the young patient who had as expected passed away? No. Not exactly. It dawned upon him that it was more so because she had broken her routine. Sleep. Work. Go home. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Would her sleep loving husband wake up early today? Would they do something together before she had to go to bed? Husband this, husband that. Husband. Husband. Husband. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that! But somewhere in revolving her life around him, she had put her own independence to the side.

Now, suddenly she had broken her routine life/thought cycle to take a 15 min walk. He had pushed her to let loose, to be spontaneous… and because of it she was now on the verge of a meltdown.

Why though? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. He knew she was happy in her marriage. Loved her husband. The two of them were purely platonic stranger friends. Her husband wasn’t expecting her to report to him every morning. Half the time he didn’t even know she had come home! Her husband had a healthy independent life of his own too, exclusive of her. So why was SHE so tense?!

She too noticed, and rather, was shocked by the realization. She questioned herself, how habitual had her mundane daily routine become during this pandemic that breaking it was able to cause so much anxiety? Here she was finally breathing in outdoor fresh air instead of indoor stale air and yet all she could think about was going home. Shower, eat, watch tv, sleep. Husband.

“I really need to go home!” She exclaimed. They had walked for approximately 5 seconds. “It’s only for 15 more minutes, come on, you can do it!”. Her shoulders tensed. She looked at the rose gold Apple watch strapped onto her rather small left wrist. 10:16. Tension. What?! Where had the past hour gone?!

“Stop” he said. They had found themselves in an isolated courtyard, with a single dry bench under the walkway bridge that stretched above them connecting two sides of the u-shaped building they now stood between. “Sit”. She sat. “What do you see?” She looked around herself and noticed the beautiful vivid dark yellow color of the leaves that had gently landed on the ground, surrounding the now naked trees they had once lived on. Even through her mask, she could smell the recognizable damp wet smell the rain had left behind. The cold breeze was harsh against her anxiety wrecked body… precisely why at this moment it seemed to be calming instead of delivering its usual stinging, intolerable bite.

Truthfully, in all her routine breaking anxiety, she had failed to noticed the beautiful scene that now lay in front of her eyes. Actually, when was the last time she had smelled the rain? The smell brought back memories of her highschool soccer playing days. The women’s season was always in the early spring. Her childhood, a pleasant, stress-free time. She smiled, lost in her thoughts. He cracked a medical joke. She laughed.

“You’re such a nerd!” She exclaimed between a fit of giggles.

“And you’re relaxed!” He said with a smile.

She was. Just like she was a year ago, at the end of their spontaneous breakfast.

He had reminded her of the importance of spontaneity. That structure was good, but too much structure wasn’t. He had reintroduced her to the peaceful comfort that could only be found in nature. He had helped her understand how necessary it was to break routines once in a while to avoid losing one’s sanity.

“Thanks Doc” she said, the doc part jokingly. She knew he hated being called that. He feigned a scowl. “For what?” He grunted.

They had met barely 2 times in their lives. He was, in that sense, just a stranger. A stranger who had somehow managed to ensure that at least today she wouldn’t waste these early morning hours she loved so much! A stranger who was such a great friend! A stranger who had twice now come along unexpectedly whenever she needed a reminder to actually live her life to the fullest. Mind you, always running into her in the presence of a third person who was actively trying not to die. Like a reminder. She wondered on what occasions in the future she would unexpectedly run into him again.

She smiled at him, “well it appears that…” she started as her light brown eyes lit up and she realized that the tension in her muscles and the frowning eyebrows on her face had completely disappeared… he looked at her quizzically.

“You’re my annual therapist!”

These past few days at work have been the weirdest. Ten hours in a mask, which never seems to bother me… suddenly I find myself short of breath. My heart racing, my head going numb. I find myself extremely restless. I can’t focus on anything extra except for my work. They want us to do some training modules… I can’t focus. We were told this morning that we might be the first in the dept to get vaccinated for covid… I said I need time to read the vaccine trials. They told me I had until next week.

So soon?? My brain freaked out a little. But not a big deal. Not the cause of why I’ve been feeling so on edge the past few days.

I dig and dig for an answer. Why am I needlessly on the verge of tears? Everything seems to be fine. Besides the pandemic of course.

The Pandemic.

Have we inadvertently burnt out from only going to and fro from work and home? From no vacations? From not physically seeing friends besides the ones that live in the immediate vicinity? We’ve adapted quite well, almost like robots, to the social distancing protocols.

Like robots.

On the contrary I guess we haven’t adapted that well. What we’ve done is found a way to survive and deny our emotions but the soul knows. The mind knows. And now the body is showing it. If there was light at the end of the tunnel it would be easy to be patient but… where is the goddamn light???!!

We are silently screaming in our minds. Screaming so loudly, yet deaf to that sound.

The past few days at work have been the weirdest. Ten hours in a mask, which never seems to bother me… suddenly I find myself short of breath. My heart racing, my head going numb. I find myself extremely restless. I thought I had reached my wits end months ago.

And now it’s nearly December. A year of our lives gone in the blink of an eye. Someone lost their job. Someone else has to go in to work everyday. Some have to face the storm head on, others face a horrific storm at home. Heck some have neither external storm to weather so they weather a different storm altogether. A storm from within, the storm of extreme loneliness. Then of course there’s the storm of loss. The storm of never getting to say goodbye.

We have special cases who don’t care because it hasn’t affected them personally yet. Out of sight, out of mind… so it must not exist. Wearing masks is apparently the mandate of the Devil.

What else did I expect?? I mean, of course it’s brimming…

The Anxiety.

I want to preface by saying I know some very loving, accepting, good Christians, but unfortunately your fellow Christians have let you down. And the following does mention the unfortunate impression it has left on anyone who does not come from your faith.

As Judge Amy Coney Barrett gets sworn into the Supreme Court, and as the election inches closer… the same thoughts keep swimming around in my mind. The more I read, the more I know, the more questions I ask, unfortunately I’ve come to one conclusion over 30 years.

Christianity and similar faiths are extremely self-centered. They just spread discrimination and hatred against anyone who doesn’t follow them. There I’ve said it. If I’m wrong, show me I’m wrong – and I would gladly love to be shown that I’m wrong because I want to see good in all religions. But on the basis of what I’ve experienced, I cannot say with confidence that most Christians respect anyone else. Only their own agenda. I know this statement is going to offend so many people, but enough is enough. From imposing their views on people, to telling people that there is only one way to go to heaven. Good behavior doesn’t matter because Jesus has died for your sins, but as long as you’re Christian and accept only the Christian God, you will go to heaven. Otherwise, you can be a really good human being in society with upstanding morals and values – but if you’re not Christian… you’re going to hell. What?!? I finally, officially believe that anyone who believes that there is “only one way” has completely missed the point and intention of religion. And I mean this for anyone of any religion. I mean this thought is completely selfish, and self centered. The major point being missed by radicals, is that being tolerant of other peoples choices does not mean you have to agree with them. You do YOU. Live life by your beliefs and morals and values. No one is stopping you from doing so. But other people should equally be allowed to do what they need to do.

Recently I saw several posts from several fellow members of society in which they wrote “Our foundation must be in Christ”. Lol hello! This is America, separation of church and state. Disregarded. Instead they believe that they must shove their religion down everyone else’s throats. If I wrote “our foundation must be in Krishna” or in Allah, or in Buddha, or in any other religious body, hell would break loose. Wouldn’t it? Making any statement like the above is downright disrespectful of people’s ability to decide for themselves what religion or moral code they want to follow for their own moral upliftment. Keep in mind, everyone doesn’t speak the same language right? How many times do we see instructions written in multiple languages? Same message, multiple languages – people read the language they understand. That is the SAME concept with religion. But I could beat this point till it’s in the ground and stubborn, self centered folks still wouldn’t get it.

Recently I read that Judge Coney Barrett’s swearing in is a major win for Conservative Christians. This is scary for America. I mean it’s scary for anyone to make that statement in America. I did read that she doesn’t feel that personal religious beliefs should impact professional decisions… which does give me a small sigh of relief … but truthfully I’m not sure what direction she will actually go. The reason I’m writing this rather long blog today is to make a point that dawned on me last week. Abortion cannot be banned based on personal Christian religious beliefs because it will be unconstitutional. It will also go against other religious beliefs. Hear me out.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t think any Hindu has ever made this argument, but if we want to get technical) – Banning abortions is against my religion. “What?? Hinduism is blasphemy!!” No, no it’s not. Hindus believe in a Karmic cycle, your karma dictates your future benefits as well as punishments. Thus, I quickly tell you a story told in our religion (like your Adam and Eve) but I’ll super summarize it:

Once upon a time a well to do, good King met and fell in love with the god(dess) reincarnate Ganga (today known as the river), proposing marriage to her immediately. Ganga said she would marry him on the condition that he, nor anyone, could question any of her actions, otherwise she would leave him. The King agreed and the two married, living many happy years together, deeply in love. Then one day Ganga became pregnant and the King was overjoyed. Ganga reminded the king of his promise. When the baby was born, to the Kings dismay, she took the baby and put him in the Ganga river (yes effectively killing it). This occurred 7 times to the Kings horror. (And perhaps yours too, but read on). Finally the 8th time, as Ganga took the baby to the river the king finally stopped her and asked the question he said he never would. He said, “No more can I allow you to murder this child. Moreover I should like to put a pertinent question to you. Are you human or a devil incarnate?” Ganga gave a sad smile and replied, “Know me to be the Goddess Ganga adored by the heavenly beings as well as the humans at large. I had to accept this apparently cruel mission paradoxically on compassionate grounds.”

Bewildered the king demanded to know the entire story. Long story short, these 8 babies in a prior life were immortal noble men living in heaven who ended up sinning greatly at the forced requests of their wives (forcefully taking a holy Saint’s cow and cows baby, and a whole slew of drama). Subsequently, they were cursed to live horrible mortal lives from there on. Upon hearing their punishment, they profusely apologized and asked for forgiveness. The Saint reconsidered seeing their plight and gave them the following adjustment to the curse – they would still have to go Earth as mortals, but it would be only for one time (not recurrent). The loophole, since they were otherwise good men, was that instead of living an entire life in misery, they would be born to Ganga and killed immediately after birth, restoring their places as Noble men in heaven. The 8th child however, was a reincarnate of the nobleman who took the initiative in the cow abduction, so he was not completely pardoned and was cursed to live out the entire life. Thus was born Bhishma, a very important character in the Dharmic War, the Mahabharat. But that’s a story for another day.

Anyhow, I’ll now come to the point. Hindus believe that what happens to you in this life, is a result of pending Karma from prior lives. Therefore, by making abortion illegal, you’re possibly stopping a human from paying their karmic dues. Which statistically as we see, most children who would be born in those situations, would end up living a life either severely debilitated, in a broken or dangerous home, without a mother (death by childbirth), or as a ward of the state. Not all, yes, but statistically most. So what’s stopping a Hindu from asking – is this the life they’re living because they’re paying their karmic dues from a past life, and would abortion have been the greater Mercy, by quickly repaying their dues without much suffering? Is forcing a child to be born under the above circumstances actually an act of cruelty?

It seems silly, I’m sure to most of you, but don’t forget that things you believe may seem silly to others as well. My point is 1.) banning abortions, on the basis of separation of church and state, would be unconstitutional if decisions were made based on religious beliefs and 2.) they would actually be forcing people of karmic faiths to behave contradictory to their beliefs. Which again, goes against the entire foundation on which this country was built. I don’t care that the founding fathers were Christian, if they wanted to make this a Christian nation they would have, but they DIDN’T.

So tell me this – if we do base decisions on religion, why not base it off of mine? What makes your religion more important than mine? Oh you don’t want my religion shoved down your throat? Okay, then you keep your beliefs and your Christ to yourself. You live your life the way you see fit. If that means you’d never be okay with your children having an abortion, so be it. If you cannot agree with the homosexual life, then don’t engage in it, yourself. List could go on. I can respect your decisions being made for yourself. But don’t push them on others. Stop spreading intolerance and hate in the name of religion. I’m surprised Christ isn’t flabbergasted by the fact that his teachings are being interpreted in such a way. Because if you really want to argue the rest of us can find enough flaws in your religion too. Hell, there are so many factions to your religion because you guys can’t even come to a common understanding. Other religions have been around for centuries longer and don’t have that issue. Maybe instead take the time to understand what religion is actually supposed to mean, and actually supposed to accomplish. If this blog stings, if it’s offensive, then it’s time to reconsider YOUR views and YOUR actions. Because quite frankly, this is how you treat everyone else, but no one else has had the guts to finally just tell or show you how they feel. So here it is. The way you feel after reading this blog is literally how you extremists make everyone else feel.

All of the above being said, I think I’ve figured out what the problem is. Blindly following a religion, and believing everything preached to be true without understanding the meaning behind it is the problem. This goes for all religions, including mine. As a Hindu, I’ll be the first to tell you (for example) that the story of Adam and Eve is a beautiful story with SO much meaning and SO much to learn/take away. And yet sadly every Christian I’ve asked has told me that all they know about Adam and Eve is that “it’s true, it’s how we originated, and that Adam sinned”. Dear Christians, if you’d like to actually talk about the beautiful message it gives, and the moral take away behind Adam and Eve, let’s talk. If you haven’t thought about the “why is this story in existence” and only believe it to be fact and nothing else – you have sadly missed a very beautiful message. It’s time to ask yourself –

Is this a trend?

K bye.

I am about 2 seconds from falling into a very deep sleep so I apologize in advance for the random ramblings, the spelling errors, and the grammatical ones too. Just had a thought I really wanted to put out there!

I sleep these days, about 8-9 hours… about a 3rd of my day. But in reality, it feels more like half my day… half my day I’m sleeping, half my day I’m at work lol.

During covid we’ve all been stuck at home… and the longer this goes on, the crazier it feels. Like we’ve been holding our breath for a really long time. Like we are stuck in this reality and that reality is a nightmare. As I held my breath, I suddenly thought about all those discussions on existence. The questions asking about “do we really exist?” and, “What’s the proof?”

I think, therefore, I am?

My mind started doing that thing where it goes on a tangent, and I realized there are two equally real realms in which we exist. The first being this so called “reality”… and the second being the dream realm. In our dreams the “Covid reality” doesn’t exist. Life is usually normal, sometimes weird, but normal in its own way. Especially when we’re having a positive dream!

Last night I dreamt that I was able to see and hang out with my best friend, Anna! I haven’t been able to do that very frequently at all this year and it’s been rough to do the year without seeing her every few months! It was calming. In my dream I also went on a vacation with my husband, Sagar… and that FELT amazing. It felt so real… each emotion I felt, each thought I thought, was so realistically induced. What’s to say I didn’t also exist in a different, alternate reality?

Perhaps allowing our dreams to become our reality, and our reality to become just a dream (a nightmare) is how we will survive this grim period. After all… they do feel pretty darn similar!

I’m sure you read the title and terror ensued within each cell of your body. And for that I’m offended. Thanks Hitler. You were possibly the worst man on the planet.

I’ve sat on this topic for years but it’s high time we open it. Controversial, only because the entire Western Hemisphere is as ignorant as ignorant gets.

Note I said “Swastik” not the butchered “Swaastika” that everyone in the Western Hemisphere has come to hate. It’s Swastik. And I’m sick and tired of being judged for why it pops up in so many Asian and Indian videos, photos, and ceremonies. I’m sure all Buddhists and Hindus are. I’m tired of it being affiliated only with the Nazis, when it wasn’t their thing to take to begin with because they stole it, and it’s so deeply and personally hurtful that this is ALL the rest of the world knows.

First and foremost, I mean no disrespect to the Jewish people. What happened to your ancestors I take very very seriously and I am mentally and emotionally distraught whenever I watch a documentary or hear a story from that era. I have studied the Holocaust thoroughly. I’m not Jewish, but my personality doesn’t allow me to be emotionally ignorant about what happened. My discussion today is not to minimize what happened thanks to Hitler… but rather to uncover yet another chunk of the world Hitler also destroyed (in addition to all of the horrific things he did) that no one seems to know about. To help the world understand who else Hitler destroyed in addition to the Jewsish, admittedly in a different way… of course physically in a much lesser way, when he stole an entire identity and redefined it to symbolize hate. Forever.

Imagine what would happen if someone, a non believer of the Christian like religions, took the cross tomorrow and used it to discriminate and hate and KILL an entire race of people for no good reason. Imagine if an Indian, for example if we flipped the scenario, took the cross and convinced the world that it was the sign of hatred, and murder. Imagine if because of this the rest of the world decided to hate the cross, or any other religious symbol without making an effort to understand its origins. What it really means. That’s what Hitler did. A disgusting European white man STOLE an extremely important Hindu, Buddhist, similar religions symbol (the swastik) and used it to spread hate. Without asking for any permission. He destroyed and killed the Jewish people, and along with them, he destroyed the reputation of an entire ancient and sacred religion – to no fault of our own. And it’s VERY annoying.

In Hindu ceremonies, you literally cannot complete some rituals without the Swastik. I’m going to defend my culture and say it’s not fair to ask us to change or alter rituals that have existed for thousands of years (literally longer than most religions and races have even existed) just because this idiot 100 years ago decided to abuse it. However, I’d love to come to an understanding about how we can have it back without hurting sentiments. Not that thing we let the white people borrow, no… I’m talking about that thing the white people stole. Ironically, I’m nicely asking how we can have our stolen symbol back.

On a global level… it has been accepted again and returned to the rightful owners. But unfortunately, no one has been informed of this… no one has been educated on this. So I decided to blog about it today to at least start the convo, plant the seed, hope you start looking into what it actually means and what it actually is. I wrote the blog in hopes that people won’t take it the wrong way, but instead will take a moment to think about what I’m saying.

In the meanwhile, I want to know how can we have our extremely religious symbol back while still respecting the Jewish community?

I also want to know, how the hell do we get these idiotic NEO-Nazi idiots to STOP FREAKING USING OUR RELIGIOUS SYMBOL ALREADY TO CONTINUE SPREADING HATE.

IT IS NOT YOUR SYMBOL TO USE!

America – you HATE cultural appropriation and yet you believe in, and encourage the worst possible appropriation EVER. An appropriation where a cultures identity (Aryans, Swastik) was taken, and used for the worst!

I’m not going to sit here and explain what the Swastik is because I’m hoping this blog will encourage you to do your own research and then get back to me with answers. But yes, I and my fellow Hindus, Buddhists, and similars, are SICK and TIRED of Europeans and Americans abusing something so important to us, and then deciding how the world should feel about it. Sickened because I feel for the Jewish sentiment, but at the same time feel punched in the gut because it was my symbol used against my will to make someone else feel so horrifically miserable. Not just feel, but they were treated, absolutely treated, in the most inhumane and disgusting way.

But for the record when you start researching, you’ll realize that the Swastika is the most ancient symbol symbolizing positivity, growth, and well-being in the world, it exists in almost every Asian country, and even so far back as to the Norse. It existed in Native American culture, in Japanese culture (manji), Ancient Greeks, Celts, and even ancient Eastern Europeans. It is the ONLY symbol that has had the exact same meaning across all these ancient cultures that supposedly didn’t even know of one another’s existence. It was literally carved into the walls of caves from when humans lived in Cave. Yes that’s how ancient it is.

Now please, look it up. Please look it up and see this previously hidden part of the Damage Hitler caused. The part that finally needed to be uncovered, be known by the world because us Indians/Asians are sick and tired of just tolerating being shit on and saying nothing about it… this just being ONE example.

But I guess we can start somewhere.

There’s two kinds of people – metaphorically speaking, those who like to play house… and those who know when to play house.

In any given situation… there’s a rushed way to do things vs a particular time to do things. I’ll preface this by saying, there isn’t always a right time to do things – but there is a wrong time to do them.

As I grow up, I realize this more and more in my own life as well as the lives of those around me. There are some people who choose to do certain things when they don’t have the means to do them… diving head first without considering the consequences… and there are people who evaluate their means first…

Then of course, metaphorically speaking, there are people who are too cautious to play house at all. But what fun is not playing at all…

Right?

So then I guess there are actually THREE kinds of people 😂

….but in any case, Balance is key.

I mean sure we all have things to say when we’re bothered by something… but I’m sure we all know those people who are CONSTANTLY complaining about other people. CONSTANTLY looking for things to hate about someone else. If they can’t find anything noteworthy they’ll make up things to complain about. And if they really can’t find something they’ll attack a person’s personality or physical appearance. The weirdest part is when the same group of people have something nasty to say about each other, the subject just changes depending on who isn’t present!

Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about it when we find ourselves on the receiving end of that. Recently I found myself in the presence of an acquaintance (3 days in a row) who walked in the door complaining about other people. Their decision making skills. Their strand of hair that was still on the chair. Their personality. I mean I don’t even think person A has seen person B in well over a week or two but I couldn’t believe how much person B was getting figuratively assassinated just because. I realized that the same must be happening to me when I’m not around.

I think when we find out someone had something negative to say about us we take it personally and feel bad about it… furthermore when it’s something that’s not in our hands – such as our appearance or personality. Even more so, when we genuinely try to be a kind loving humane person, and get nothing but crude harsh judgement in return. So I made a list of things I need to realize if I ever find myself in this situation. You should too… or you can use my list and tweak it as you see fit to apply to your life!

My List:

1. I’m happy with who I am
2. I know I’m a good person
3. I know I try my hardest, even if I’m not always perfect
4. I know I’m good at what I do regardless of your standards
   1. I’ve fixed your mistakes too, or noticed plenty of flaws in you too… I just don’t feel the need to point them out to you every time, or micro-analyze them.
5. You’re actually just creating a bad impression in MY mind
   1. I now think of you as negative energy/vibes
6. I have an amazing family that loves me (so I couldn’t care less about your views)
7. I have amazing friends that love me (so I couldn’t care less about your views)
8. I have an amazing husband who loves me so much he spoils me, and is the only person whose opinion about my personality and appearance at this stage in life REALLY matters. (I am not trying to befriend you, date or impress YOU, so I don’t actually care about what you think)
   1. Since we’re being shallow, before you judge me, have you looked in the mirror? When was the last time you – washed/combed/brushed your hair, took a shower, didn’t have your hair shed, got a haircut, ironed your clothes, went to the gym, had good posture, etc
9. Before you comment on how much I talk and like to have conversations, have you looked at how much you complain – or how judgmental you are? I think my desire to have a conversation is a sign of my intellect, empathetic nature, friendliness, and desire to connect with my fellow human beings.
   1. I don’t judge you for your lack of ability to have a conversation (at least not consciously, and not out loud), but if I did, I’d judge you to be shallow, robotic and depending on the situation, I’d think you were incapable of having an intellectual conversation all together.
   2. I’d also judge you for lacking humanity, empathy, and the ability to connect with other people (unless they, like you, just like to spend their time complaining)
10. I personally have gone through so much worse… I’ve danced with death and came back from the edge. I’m strong. If I survived that… what could you possibly do to make a dent my emotions? You’re literally a nobody in front of some of the folks and actions I’ve had to deal with.

So basically if I ever find myself on the receiving end of such a person’s negativity (knowingly) – yes I’ll probably feel bad… but then I’ll remember that such a person wasn’t around to wipe my tears or chase my fears… so they don’t get to cause fears and tears either. I’ll remember the 10 points above and realize…

I just don’t care! Because such people just don’t matter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Let’s just be honest. Unnecessary comments about one’s appearance are a totally normal part of Indian culture. I don’t know why. And before someone gets defensive… yeah yeah Americans have their flaws too which I call out all the time… but that’s not the topic of discussion at the moment. The following is a scenario near and dear to my heart.

“You got more food?! My gosh you eat so much!”Some time later… “Are you done yet?? You ate so much food! You’re so fat! You need to eat less!You’re eating too much, there’s too much on your plate”

**Let me remove some of the food even though you probably want to eat it**

Said the mom, aunty, elder family member, elder sibling, or generally any Indian person who is not a child.

Sound familiar? No it doesn’t?! It’s rude…and you’re horrified?! I mean it should sound familiar because it’s what people do to “skinny” people who don’t “eat much”.

“That’s it? You barely ate anything! How are you done already?! You’re so skinny! You’re just skin and bones! You need to eat more!”

**Let me just put more food on your plate even though you said you were full and didn’t want anymore!**

Why do these statements towards a “skinny” person seem normal but the further above don’t? What makes it okay to say these things but not the other? It’s embarrassing and unnecessary. Especially when speaking to an adult. Not to mention, forceful and uncomfortable.

Also, notice that above I put “skinny” in quotes. Because the people who are “skinny” actually are usually at a healthy weight. Most of the people making those comments, are not. So all I can say is the following:

“Yes, I do eat less (than YOU!)… but I eat the right amount to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Or at the very least to maintain my own happiness. So maybe we should reassess who is saying what to whom!

Bottom line, it is uncomfortable and rude. If it’s not your business, just stay out of it. Especially when talking to an adult… whatever end of whatever spectrum…. just let people do their thing.

You do yours.

Have you ever noticed that? We are so good at giving advice to other people. Sometimes when they ask, and sometimes just cause we want to [randomly lecture others]. Yeah But the question is, why don’t we take that advice ourselves?

As a teenager or younger adult, I always noticed that when a friend was heartbroken we told him or her exactly what he or she need to do, but when it was our turn we wasted a lot of time, energy, and tears doing exactly what we told our friend not to.

“Grown ups” give their children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, etc. all sorts of advice. How to study. How to get somewhere in life. How to be a good person. Morals. Ethics. And then if you actually observe their lives you shockingly realize how off track most of them have been over the course of their own life! Doesn’t make anyone a bad person of course, we all fall in this boat. But it’s just funny to notice how fast people are to tell others what to do (with the best of intentions) while not doing it themselves…

So my entire life I’ve always tried to live a life led by example. Not just by talking. I’ve most definitely failed several times but I’d like to think that I have an open enough mind to where I can call myself out for those moments.

But I really do believe more people should try it out in at least the most basic things… leading by example, and not just preaching to sound like a high, mighty, and pious person.

If nothing else at least the words coming out of a persons mouth would be credible 🙏🏻

I’ve touched the topic over the years but I’ll come out and just say it. The following is very personal, and as much as I regret to say it – I have a great deal of anxiety sharing this openly even though I know I shouldn’t. Anxiety not because I am ashamed, but because I know how the world pretends to care but actually perceives mental health.

I am someone who has struggled with mental health – depression, anxiety, and PTSD (all diagnosed) over the better part of the past decade. To some degree it was inbuilt, and worsened by various experiences. And yes. It got to the point where I now need to take a daily medication to be okay. Just like diabetics do. Just like high BP folks do. Hypo/hyperthyroid. List could go on. And just like their medications control their disease. Mine controls mine. And it’s made a world of a difference. It’s not a forever thing, and likely temporary… for now… but I know a lot of people, especially older Indian folks will hee and haw about this. Am I putting my families to shame by being so vocal about this? If you think yes… Why?

The truth is I don’t think a lot of people realize just how real mental illness is. They’ll talk about it, especially when someone dies due to suicide, but they’ll also turn right around and gossip about someone’s illness when it’s someone they know. If that’s you, I am talking about you. Shame on you.

Yesterday a Bollywood actor sadly died of suicide. Now there are a lot of people mourning, and saying “speak up! I’d rather hear your story than attend your funeral”. Yes, that’s a really important message to spread. The problem is that when someone is actually struggling, most people are SO DAMN UNAPPROACHABLE. They spew insensitive comments. Gossip. A complete lack of desire to actually understand and be there. I think our generation is a little better and more accepting than our parent’s… but I want to actually call attention to that fact.

Truth is a LOT of people struggle with mental health. Especially anxiety and depression. A lot more than you realize. But they’re too scared to do anything about it. I’ve had so many people reach out to me and say they were struggling but too scared to tell their parents. A lot of people reaching out for help to their parents and their parents getting mad and blowing them off as if their child is overreacting, being a drama queen. Spouses angry at their spouses for struggling instead of being there for them. (I’m one of the few lucky ones who has an amazingly supportive spouse!) People with mental health, who have its taboos so engrained into their own heads that they refuse to accept they are struggling! This is so toxic. On the other hand we also have a lot of people actively signaling for help but those signs just go unnoticed.

And then someone hurts themselves and people say “oh we didn’t know, we wish you would have spoken up”. In a lot of cases people who struggle do a really good job of pretending to be ok. They fool the public very well. That was me for a good 3-4 years. But a lot of times, people who struggle also say speak up only to be blown off. Or have some sort of silly remark made, “you’ll be fine!”, “just don’t think about it!”, “it’s all just in your head!”. Lol. I’ve been there. And it sucked to have everyone from family to friends saying these things. Telling me indirectly that my feelings didn’t matter.

As I said above, news has been making its rounds of a Bollywood star who sadly died of suicide. People are mourning. They’ll spend 2-3 days writing “please speak up if you’re suffering!” And then forgetting all about it. And that’s okay, I don’t expect everyone to be a mental health activist 24/7. But I think the most we can ask in that case is that once in a while when a situation arises in your personal life, someone you know, don’t be that person who just gossips and shames a person for having mental illness. Educate yourself on what you need to do to actually be there for them.

Truth is I’m writing this blog without asking for permission first. I’m scared but I think I need to post it. I’ve had at least 3 people in the past week ask me about my struggle and if medications have actually helped. Thinking they need help too, but too scared to get it because of the taboos associated with it. Shame. I’m speaking up because this tells me that there are a lot of people out there silently suffering. Struggling.

So whether you know me well, or don’t know me at all, I would like to open myself up as a resource, and a listening ear to anyone who needs to talk to someone who not only has struggled herself, but also as someone who is a healthcare provider, educated in psych medical therapy. Please speak up if you’re struggling. This is a safe space.

Scrolling through my Instagram, I came across the profile of someone I knew over a decade ago… not super well, but a friendly acquaintance I’d say. To be honest he has truly had the most fascinating life…. that diverged from the norm from the start.

I think I come across such profiles from time to time… some people from school days, some from extracurricular activities… some from college. I’m fascinated by their history and the time that has lapsed since I last knew them. As we all do, shamelessly, I too end up doing a little bit of social media stalking to see what these old acquaintances have been up to since they last popped up on my feed…

I think I talk to a total of maybe 10-20 people on a regular basis and know maybe another 100 well… but my Facebook claims I have over 1,000 friends. I’d say these acquaintances fall outside the 100 that I actively know, so for all intents and purposes they’re strangers today. For most, it’s been over a decade since I last spoke to them. Some I have to actually stop and think back, “When and where did I meet this person? Did we ever really interact?”. To be honest sometimes I don’t even remember.

I realized there are so many people for whom I truthfully can’t remember where I met them, or if I have ever actually said more than two words to them… and yet I’m all caught up on their lives and what they’ve been up to. That was a weird feeling… though completely normal in the age of social media I guess. But I mean… do they even remember who I am? How many of them have wondered and encountered the same realization about me in reverse?

My guess is the experience or realization is relatively universal… right?

It was a journey I didn’t really want to travel. Mostly travelled as slowly as I could. Tried to breathe in the fresh air, admire the blue skies. I met many people along the way and had many good times.

On this journey, I tried to extend the duration of my travel by trying to deny the reasons behind why I was unwillingly making this journey to begin with.

Crime, immorality, selfishness, death surrounded me. “Ignore it” people said. I tried, but it didn’t seem right. Anxiety, depression, neglect amidst many a personal battles – I countered with denial. The stifling feeling of constantly being alone, misunderstood or taken advantage of lurked in the mind, propelling me forward… yet everything appeared to be at a standstill as I met everything and everyone with a casual demeanor and a bright smile.

Try as I did to stay put… inch by inch, my journey still continued.

On this journey I had a huge water jug. It was always perfectly maintained, filled to the brim but without a drop falling out. I had stopped my journey for a second, stepping to the side of the road to empty some of that water. As I did, I contemplated turning around and heading back to where I had just come from. A small place called Sanity. I closed my eyes to feel the warm sun on my skin, the breeze nudging my hair. It felt like a perfect day.

And just as I was starting to enjoy the sun, a rumbling black cloud rumbled across the sky bringing in a violent storm that was out of my control, the whole world’s control. The storm overfilled the jug and it’s blow knocked it over.

….And that is how I reached Wits End.

Its funny how many films were made about the “future”. A future that typically was depicted to be some time around now. Putting fiction aside… there were so many predictions about what 2020 would look like. How advanced technology would be, how much longer life expectancy would be, which country would be on top. It was all predictions of progress. This year was supposed to be popping.

Personally I had a lot of things I was looking to accomplish before making major life changes. This was supposed to be the year my husband and I travelled the world before settling down and shifting our focus to “family”. The last hurrah as we know it.

Just a few weeks before this whole thing blew up, superficially speaking, I was supposed to get my nails done, get a haircut, get a massage… go to Cheesecake Factory to use a gift card my best friend gifted me. We kept putting it off until later cause in the moment life was so busy.

Who would have guessed that everything would come to such a sudden halt? We would have all the time in the world to go do things but couldn’t go do them. No one guessed that 2020 would be the year everything stopped for a very long minute.

The golden year 2020 of the future, where everything was supposed to be hustling and bustling – silenced.

Oh the irony.

As the wrath of coronavirus descends upon us, I can’t help but think about people in the military and what they go through on a daily basis. I don’t necessarily want to compare myself to them, because I have too much respect for what they do, but at this time, I’m starting to understand some fraction of what they must be going through – especially during times of active combat.

They chose to enlist. It was their choice. Just like it was mine to become a healthcare provider. They’re brave and put their lives on the line, just like we are now. I think everyone has respect and is thankful… but truthfully before now, while I always “knew”, I never really took the time to think about what must be going on in their minds – emotionally speaking.

I wouldn’t be surprised if deep down inside they felt some ounce of fear. Fear for their lives, fear for if they’ll ever see their loved ones again… or what will happen to their loved ones. But they put on their brave face and carry on. Respect.

We are scared too. We wish we could join the masses in their work from home isolation but we can’t. We don’t want to get sick. We don’t want to potentially bring it home to our loved ones. But we put on a brave face and carry on.

Maybe it’s only a fraction of understanding what they go through – but while before my immense respect for them was based on what I knew, today I have an additional perspective. My respect has grown multi-fold because I now also know with my feelings.

Respect. 🙏🏻

I often write about my own feelings and emotions revolving around a certain topic. The other day I wrote about rejection and so many people reached out with a Virtual Hug. You guys are amazing and thank you for the love ❤️ I appreciate you all

Last night I noticed my husband was a little fussy… not towards me but in general inwardly. It’s when I noticed that all of this isn’t easy on him either… he’s silently been sacrificing a lot without even signing up for it… and I have to take note of that

My husband is an engineer – he works 9-5 M-F. That’s what he signed up for. A normal life. Then he met me. Sure we can say the moment he married me he signed up for my life patterns but I’m pretty sure he was busier focusing on who I am as a person.

This man silently accepted that every other week for 7 days straight he wouldn’t see me… he would be at work when I was asleep, and I’d be at work when he was. That means no partner for comfort cuddles at night. He accepted that he won’t be able to make normal plans for 50% of the weekends in a year because I would be working. He started planning his life around my work schedule without a peep.

He accepted, perhaps with a heavy heart, that not just during this coronavirus pandemic, but every night his wife will march into a war zone of some contagious disease or another and has the potential to get sick. Bigger yet – he accepted that HE might get sick.

During this pandemic he has accepted that as much as he wants to be near me, hug me, comfort me… he can’t. And it seemed unfair. As I went to sleep in our bed and he went to sleep in the guest bedroom his fussiness grew. I noticed it. And I felt horrible for him. He didn’t sign up for this… only I did.

That’s what spouses of healthcare providers do – they accept that something might go wrong, silently, while actively supporting their partner. He knew what he was getting into by the time we got married… but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him the appreciation he deserves. I can only take care of people because he takes care of me.

Thanks for being an incredible husband, Sagar.

Kind of want to narrate a funny side effect of everything that’s been going on. Yes I’ve been around sick people. Clearly strangers know that too as soon as they see me in scrubs. On my way home today I happened to be walking by some folks and they all seemed to avoid me, walk the long way around, as if I was a stray rabid dog.

At home my husband maintains a distance. Of course, I want him to… I wanted him to leave last week before I plunged into this whole thing and go stay with my parents two hours away. He didn’t, but that’s a different story. I know he should keep his distance, but the fact that I can sense that he’s doing it on his own hurts. It’s illogical and I shouldn’t feel bad cause he makes sure to tell me he loves me and hates the physical distance verbally every second of every minute we’re together. I know some people have moved out, sleep in the garage, have sent their kids away… so I’m lucky my husband is still in front of me – but it still feels yucky. Feels worse cause I’ve been coughing the past few days and now I also feel guilty.

We’re all mentally exhausted from dealing with all of this. It feels like a bad dream that we are just not waking up from. But at least you guys can cuddle with your loved ones. Hug your mom, see you’re dad.

Sucks that we are feeling down too, just like everyone else… but for us, at a time when we could really use a hug… we absolutely cannot have one. Seems trivial but it’s actually a really big deal.

Guess that’s one of the sacrifices all healthcare providers are making to keep providing. For now I have to cry by myself. Feel the anxiety alone. And all I get is some words of comfort from a long long distance. Text. Phone. Husband sitting at a decent distance. I can’t cuddle up next to him or cry my anxiety into his shoulder.

I can’t go near my husband. I can’t see my parents or my brother. I can’t have my loved ones near me to comfort me and for me to comfort them. They try hard to comfort me with words but it almost feels like I’m starting to experience a little bit of touch starvation after a week.

Just have to sit here and literally feel like a rabid dog while I help save lives. How ironic is that? Loll

I’ve been super agitated lately. Just in general not just cause of coronavirus but yeah it’s exacerbated it. I want to talk about why I get mad.

Except no one in the field is making decisions that are right for us. We’re treating COVID19 patients without much protection, putting ourselves and the people we love in harms way.

And in return People do and say really shitty things. This virus is no joke, the data is out in front of us. It’s a scary time right now. But yet people are not understanding and taking it seriously… STILL. Another thing that’s pissing me off is how people are just spreading wrong information without realizing the repercussions of it. And when I get mad, people don’t get WHY I’m mad. Heck why the entire MEDICAL community is pissed.

So let me put it this way. To be blunt, while people are sitting at home, wasting time at home, working from home… or not really working… MEDICAL STAFF is putting themselves in harms way. We are the ones going to work day in and day out. We are the ones KNOWINGLY entering infected patients rooms, KNOWING that we can potentially get sick… and die from it. Not people. We are. We are knowingly doing all this, knowing that we might bring it home and kill a loved one. Is that blunt enough for you?

So ya when I see people spreading false information or just hanging out and not taking this seriously it makes me feel like I’m INTENTIONALLY putting myself and my family in harms way for people who don’t actually deserve it.

How about instead then WE sit at home, and you people go to the hospital and use your so called misinformation to cure these patients. Why don’t YOU make it a social gathering while you’re at it.

Guess when that’s all over the population of the planet will be significantly different and we will all be safe to come out of our homes again.

But obviously that’s not going to happen, so until then… I’m going to have to be the one in a dangerous situation… not you. Those nurses doctors and respiratory therapists? They’re the ones who have to work with those infected lungs – NOT YOU. When things get bad, WE have to watch people be REALLY sick and die at the same time. YOU don’t. MEDICAL STAFF has to cry with the family while YOU are completely oblivious to what’s been going on.

So the least YOU can do, is cooperate, understand WHY we get mad, and help us in stopping all this bullshit instead of blowing our desperate and sincere requests off as “overreacting”.

Cause you know what? You wouldn’t call it overreacting if your eyes saw what ours have, and felt the fear we have felt.

Ps. Everyone is working hard. But I especially have to applaud the most hands on people – nurses, respiratory therapists, followed by doctors. You guys are the heroes of heroes.

Amidst all the craziness that has been surrounding us… all the negativity, all the fear that has been engulfing us… a black cat crossed my path tonight on my way to work.

“Greaaaat” I thought to myself, “Just great!”

No, I’m not too superstitious otherwise, but I found myself really annoyed by the timing.

More than this cat crossing my path however, it was how it went down that stuck with me. This cat – not a kitten but not fully grown either, with velvety dark as night fur – was utterly flustered. If it had just stayed put it would have been fine… but instead it started running erratically out of fear.

I guess it thought it had a split second to decide… Right?? Left?? And then suddenly (of course) it ran left… directly out in front of my car before suddenly coming to a deer in headlights stop. I was watching it all along so luckily I wasn’t really moving as I waited for it to figure it’s situation out. In that moment, shining in my cars headlights, I could see turmoil and fear mixed in its eyes. It was the chilling look of staring death in the eyes, terrified. It’s life was probably flashing before it’s eyes, it’s heart was probably racing. I honked at it twice – once to unfreeze it, once get it to move. In the process, it crossed my path before disappearing into the night.

Made me think of us humans in this time. We too are so unsure of what we’re supposed to be doing. There’s so much confusion, turmoil, fear… and rightfully so. We’re social creatures but trapped within the 4 walls of our homes… and the 4 walls of our mind. It seems like we’re battling a pandemic but many are also trying to keep mental health decline at bay. One internal struggle… one external.

Hopefully we won’t lose our minds along the way. Hopefully we make a conscious effort to stay sane and stay put… because not doing so will truly be a dangerous thing. This cat within those few seconds symbolized that understanding… or even the lack thereof … to me.

The most important thing to remember however is that this cat’s moment passed within a couple seconds. I’m just hoping ours will too… sooner than later… with this just becoming a distant memory.

I wore a short outfit. It was not that short… but short enough for some people to comment on it, disapprovingly. And it gave me anxiety – for a second. It also looked shorter than it really was in photos but that’s besides the point.

I wore it while in Vegas and while with my husband. It was approved and passed by husband level of comfort (whether I needed it or not is besides the point – I’m an independent woman, but I still respect my marriage enough to avoid doing things that make my husband uncomfortable).

Some background – I spend 99.9% of my life looking like a slob. I LOVE what I do and I’d pick it all over again a million times – but to make a point – I work graveyards, in a hospital, doing some really stressful work. I wear non-shape conforming scrubs, my hair is usually just thrown up in a mess, and my face doesn’t have an ounce of make up – or anything – on it. Nothing to cover up the dark circles, the baggy eyes, the horrible skin secondary to degree of stress and horrible sleep and eating patterns.

I spend 99.9% of my life feeling and being unattractive. And it doesn’t bother me because what I do holds so much meaning. I save lives every single day. But somewhere that 99.9% being unattractive has rooted itself somewhere in my subconscious. And it’s not a good feeling. I also wasn’t raised to wear risqué clothing – so I don’t. And even this time, I didn’t.

But as a nearly 30 year old married woman, I’d want the world to allow me to draw my own boundaries. If my husband is ok with something, then I should be able to do whatever I need to do within those boundaries.

Women lose themselves in family life, in societal pressure. Women conform to expectations and fear gossip – then participate in gossip – and most spend their entire life forgetting to take care of themselves.

I’m not saying go out there and be a 110% skank (whatever that’s means). I’m not saying cross limits that your family is uncomfortable with. But alongside respecting your partner’s comfort level, and he (or other appropriate pronoun) respecting your need to do what you gotta do, find a middle ground wherein you can find time to feel good about yourself.

Is this blog superficial upon first glance? Yes. But so many people don’t realize how much mental effort goes behind accepting ones body during periods of change. Aging (losing ones youth). Pregnancy. Diseases. Medication. The list goes on. We should be confident in who we are – but that’s easier said than done. Truth is we are all vain, and while we might not show it, the thoughts of losing the body/image we are most confident in do engrain themselves in our subconscious, and negatively affect us.

I’m no different.

So yeah. I did wear a sort of short black outfit. Location was appropriate, and it was husband approved.

And for one night in a blue moon – I felt damn good strutting in it.

Sue me 🤷🏻‍♀️

Ever been in an interaction with another human where it feels like you’re the only one making an effort? Doesn’t have to be a romantic relationship… I mean literally any relationship.

Ok honestly of course you have, everyone has… though either you’re the do-er or the non-do-er.

Basically, it sucks. That feeling, where you feel like you’re always the one making an effort, initiating things, and the other person just goes along with it for the sake of doing so, but never initiated themselves. It makes you wonder what would happen if you stopped. Would they notice and start initiating? Or would any bit of interaction between you two just cease to exist?

For me, pretty much every time I’ve tested this out, I’ve noticed that interactions completely ceased to exist. It made me realize that I don’t mean as much, or that specific action with a given person meant much more to me than it did to him or her. Be it family. Be it friends. Be it relationships. Be it acquaintances.

I guess it is what it is but it isn’t a good feeling. It’s a worse feeling when you give up and decide to then have that interaction with someone else… only to end up as the “bad guy” for finding an alternative.