Time Flies Either Way

I woke up at 3 am on June 1st, 2019 and I noticed it's been a year since I took the Time out to write.

And when I read my older posts, I realized that there was so much pain and grief that I almost wonder now, How the hell did I make it through that?

Someone, whom I have never spoken to in real life, messaged me on Instagram, asking me why I stopped writing.

And...and I had no reason. I was so busy learning to be kind to myself and shedding the dependence I had built on other people that I forgot I had a platform where people looked forward to reading my writing

Note-to-self-#1: There is no shame in being afraid
Hell we are all afraid
What you've got to do is figure out what you're afraid of.
Because when you put a face on it, you can beat it.
Or better yet you can use it. 

New beginning’s almost here, and so are many tough goodbye's. I have grown so much as a person and I cannot wait to get back to sharing as much as I can on my blog. It feels amazing to be able to do this for myself because a year later today when I read everything, I was glad I documented all of it. The good, the bad, the ugly. It helps to look at how far you have come when you are worried about how far you have left to go.

Note-to-self-#2: Do not let your fire go out, 
spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swaps of 
the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. 
Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. 
The world you desire can be won. It exists.. it is real... it is possible. 
It's yours. 

To start off my first post in 2019, I am going to take the time to list out a few things that I'll be doing (and have been doing) more as a part of self-love and acceptance:

1) I plan to focus on my writing and get back to my reading. I have missed having the time to read literature apart from academic readings. I hope I can plan my reading more effectively now. And now that I am not in a remote village in Uttar Pradesh but in the Capital, I hope to be able to visit more bookstores and book sales (suggestions are welcome) and spend more time with people who share this passion.

2) I plan to maintain and probably do more with my body in terms of physical fitness and mental health. I am going to get back in connection with the ISHA foundation and meditate a lot more than I have been able to.

I have recently received a lot of flack from an acquaintance about her misjudgment of me supporting unhealthy lifestyle vs body shaming, the latter was what I was going for, but as it turns out, not everyone brings up things for healthy discussions that are NOT fuelled by savior-complex.

I shall be writing about this soon.

(Personally, I have felt the difference and opinions on yoga/meditation are subjective, hence, I do not entertain debates).

3) I plan to Love and invest in relationships, but not drain myself to fulfill the need for companionship or social acceptance. I am not half of a whole, Nobody is. We are all complete without the need for a "better half" to complete us. Life is not about finding your other half, its a lot more about finding the companionship that resonates with your energy along the way as you grow through what you go through.

It took me a lot of time and consistency to reach this foundation mentally, and I have never been more sorted with my decisions.
I am not saying that I definitely know what I want, But I am confident about coming to terms with what I do not want.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men.

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures."

~William Shakespeare

Burnt

The closest I have ever come to witnessing the most unselfish pure human relationship was between my mother and her father. I can recall how I wasn't even fully awake at 5:30 am that morning when i read her text about the demise of my maternal grandfather. I remember the lump in my mother's throat even today when she tells me about her father's advice, "Zindagi mei tumm sabb kuch yahin chhod jaoge. Tumhaare aakhri dinn parr,tumhe ya kisi aur ko wo saari presentations nahi yaad aaengi,tumhe apne rishte yaad aaenge aur logon ko tum." ("You will leave everything behind at the end of your life. On you last day,nobody will remember your presentations, but the relationships you formed and the impact you had on people's lives").

My Maternal Grandfather is the closest I have ever had to having a malewho spoiled me yet would feed me with his hands even when I complain that I am 17 and old enough.

Despite being hurt by the ones they have loved, human beings yearn for relationships. Even a broken heart - scarred by love lost - pursues and rejoices love again. I had a natural outburst to being called as someone with brittle faith by a boy I was seeing. I was immediately smacked out of my Mills-and-Boons induced coma. It hurt me that knowing all about me, how I had to fight, work hard, and read and be intelligent to be attractive, one would still go to the extent of calling me faithless. 

I agree, I push people away. And I push them away with all the strength life lessons gave me because people treated me like cigarette breaks and after a certain point, you learn to do anything to protect yourself. 

(No sweetheart, I know you are reading this too, I am not complaining.) 

Doodh ka jala, chhach ko bhi foonk-foonk ke peeta hai

("One who has been burnt by hot milk, will even blow-to-cool buttermilk before taking a sip")

Substantiating his Mr-know-it-all "not-sugarcoated" statement about A girl who is insecure because she lacks faith in things in her life, he tells me that I was someone he wanted to "improve" (What am I, your second draft?)

Because 'loving someone for who they are, accepting all flaws and everything' is only for fancy Instagram and Pinterest posts

"In real life you have to compromise and change, which involuntarily happens when you want to please the other. That is what improvement is about"

Should I really change my nature to please him? So that being around me would be a little more tolerable? Commenting on the fake sense of affection I have had throughout my life, according to him, He doesn't stay far behind before coming to another conclusion saying :

~ That in all the other romantic relationships before this nobody ever called me out on my insecurities and So He chose to highlight my insecurities, risked the relationship Only to "Help" me out Because I needed to "accept" things about myself ~

What kind of things did I need to accept? That I do not trust people easily? (Well who does these days) That being around me is difficult because my mood changes every 6 seconds from being fenty like Rihanna to being Britney Spears in 2007?

To him, I am just a runner - who runs away from problems for I am someone who kept hopping in and out of relationships for a decade

Who has a difficult family life because her Dad is in the Armed Forces

Who just wallows in self-pity

Who wears her wounds as badges when she should work on her flaws

The flaws - that he so proudly pointed out

Who is not a warrior, because she is weak from within

Who is living in a delusion of a perfect-rosy life

aaaaaaaarrrrggghhhh!

All these "righteous" fucks thinking they can waltz in and fire shots at my self esteem and get away with it?

I'll give him this, he was good with words. Could even form witty sentences for most part of our conversations,

But love is never too intellectual to get away with right?

So every time I beat him to his own argument or called Him on his insensitive comments, I went to sleep without an I love you.

FOR YOUR INFORMATION

NO, you are not insensitive for being careful about the amount of dependence you build in relationships.

My story, My faithless-wallowing-in-self-pity-unsure-of-myself story, 

I was the kid your mother warned you about;

when everybody in class was too busy making Instagram posts and updating their LIT lives on Facebook,

I was sitting under the lampshade,

Sometimes even candlelight,

Heck, I have old family albums with photographs where I am studying in the light that peeks from under the door of the washroom in my Dad's Shankar Vihar Air Force accommodation

Putting ideas in ink as if the world depended on my tiny, crooked shoulders like fireflies depend on darkness to be noticed; 

Shoulders which were still swollen from the knuckles of Men in my life who used their superiority to tell me that I wasn't pretty enough to be this bossy;

"Aakhir kis baat ki akad hai ismei? Kis schaal ki akad hai?"

"Shakal toh dekho? Suar jaisi naak"

"Bahot zyada attitude hai yaar Joshita Mei"

"Chuck her face, fuck the base"

and when Books, Dance Team, Sports, Academics, Student Council and Traveling didn't leave me with time to worry about anything else, I was sucked deeper into a world of depression and anxiety.

My mental health got worse with every passing year since I turned 17.

"I only befriended you because I thought you were edgy and too open for a girl, so you wouldn't mind some giving and taking. Friends with Benefits?"

"Yeah, we have been good friends, but you are just a distraction to me right now"

How easy it was for people to judge my enthusiastic nature about life as my availability to pleasure them

I was slut-shamed right left and center because everyone believed their "version" of the story of a senior whom I made the mistake of trusting once when I had a little too much to drink. I learnt my lesson of there not being something "too careful".

I was labeled just another tease by the boy who is now the Student Council President because 'girls don't want friends, they just want to have fun'.

If people still wonder why I find 13 Reasons Why relatable, well picture Hannah Baker's High School as my Undergraduate University life for 3 years,

From boys using me to climb their social standing ladder to friends who cut me out for new ones

I became the girl everyone whispered in hushed tones about and chuckled, And I am still the girl people love to spread rumors about

The difference is, it did not end for me, I am still living my story

I still remember the time my own friend used the word "slut" on me

Because being smart, ambitious, opinionated and a woman? 

No Honey, Calm your titties

We will build you up, only to cut you down

I don't see others as below me

I only see myself a little taller

Because very early on in my life, I was called an "Overachiever"

As if it was a disgrace to be;

made me feel like I was biting off more than I could chew;

because School isn't meant for kids with dreams

It is not cool to be a scholar, it is not impressive to be a factually consistent,

"Bold" is never a compliment,

Cats aren't cute if they are Schrodinger's

And when slambooks ask you for your ambition in life, trust me it is only a rhetorical question

I remember how I learnt to swim when I was 4 years old,

No floats or tubes

Trusting my own limbs to cut through the water and move me forward

Even when my lungs felt like giving up

But I was stronger than anything trying to break me down.

My faith has been constantly tested in relationships and in my own ability

I am a work in progress, and I do not feel the need (yet) to change to please someone

My once endearing stubbornness has become a refusal to compromise and my one track mind is now immaturity and my impulsive nature is reckless and irresponsible for a relationship

and my demand of commitment is no longer sexy, just another distraction in his busy life.

Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I am now ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

I've been told that everybody loves to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels, But then they feel threatened of that BITCH because she knows what she wants and she knows how she's going to get it,

The girls who were unanimously considered beautiful often rested on their beauty alone

I felt I had to do things, be confident in my skin, to be intelligent and develop a personality in order to be seen as attractive.

By the time I realized maybe I wasn't plain and might even possibly be pretty,I  had already trained myself to be a little more interesting and informed

But i am yet to have moments in my life where i can truly celebrate my victory of building myself while everyone else isn't too busy trying to break me down Or put me in my place Or shaming me behind my back (because lets be honest, you do not have the balls to come talk to me in real life)

I am not seeking attention. 

I have accepted many things as negatives for the photograph of my life

And when I was a kid I used to run races

And leave all the fuckers behind only because

I loved gold medals a little more than silver ones;

Atelophobic - that's what I have become,

I am still that kid who is an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist - I have only learned to tame it now;

and I don't know if I am too much to make you run away and hide scared like a child?

The page I won't let you read

It is now at least three weeks since I have slept properly. 

Even the times when I finally fell asleep, exhausted with all the myriad things I was involved in, it wasn't for more than a couple of hours. 

The thoughts raced around madly. I tried desperately to control them, to rein them in. They were like wild horses on a racing spree. The more I tried, the faster they seemed to gallop. 

At one point I was so exhausted I just wanted to sleep. 

I wanted to shout at the thoughts telling them to stop. I tried shutting them out mentally by closing my eyes tightly. I tried to calm myself by counting sheep as I lay on my bed, trying desperately to fall asleep. 

I wake up every morning and I feel deeply unhappy.

Not depressed, just deeply unhappy.

It is the kind of hollowness that I have never known.

It is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach which spreads slowly upwards, towards my throat.

It feels like somebody has blindfolded me from behind, has his hands around my throat and squeezing tightly.

I feel angry.

Extremely angry.

There is no logical reason to it, really.

My brain just freezes at times. It is irrational, incomprehensible and terrifying.

I wish to shake it off, but I do not know what to shake off.

One part of me tries to rationalize and speak to myself, but it is drowned in this massive panic I experience.

I sit on my bed and watch the clock ticking.

I feel more and more rebellious with every passing second. 

Simultaneously it feels like I am losing something. 

I cannot put a name to it, but I know it has to be stopped.

I feel Helpless.

I have no idea what is happening. Nothing is happening. Nothing that could be explained anyway.

When I hear myself speak, the voice belongs to somebody else.

All of a sudden, my hands turn icy. The soles of my feet are affected by frostbite it seems.

I just want to sink into the Earth and disappear.

I close my eyes willing whatever is gripping me to go away.

Your average middle-class society does not let one day of your life pass without reminding you constantly that the magic tag of being 'educated' would open many doors.

It has always been my ambition, like the ambition of most young people today - to get into a good college and then have a great career, earn big money and to be independent.

What I hadn't anticipated was that me being so hard on myself would make things a nightmare.

Blackness descends around me like a cloak.

I seem unable to look beyond it.

The rebelliousness is gone but it is replaced by a depressing feeling which makes my heart weigh a ton.

It is a sinking feeling, a feeling that something is just not right, a melancholic, miserable feeling that hangs around me now.

Assure people that I am fine? I cannot. I am not fine.

Feelings are powerful and logic was crushed under its weight. 

I was governed by them, not by logic. 

I was at their mercy and they were unrelenting, harsh and unforgiving.

But that was not on my mind at that point in time, at all. I lay down on my bed in my room. 

I feel empty.

A huge, dark void was inside me now. 

It is like a phantom pain which amputees experience when a limb is cut off. 

The limb does not exist anymore but the pain they feel in that limb which no longer exists is very real. I did not know what to do to relieve the pain. I feel trapped in it. I want it to stop. I want no more of this agony. 

I curl up my fist as tightly as I could and the fingernails dug deep into the flesh of my palm. 

I did it again and again. The deeper my nails dug, the better I felt. 

Then I saw the paper cutting knife which I had bought some time back. I took it and made a small cut on the side of my wrist. I winced slightly as the blade cut the skin and a line of blood appeared. I felt better then. 

Now at least, the pain was real. I could bear this. It was not like the phantom pain which was terrifyingly unbearable. 

I made my way to the bathroom and opened the cabinet which had cotton and Dettol. 

I applied undiluted Dettol directly on the cut. 

It Stung sharply and almost burnt. Oddly, I feel comforted.

“Look Joshita. Just be strong. These are simply thoughts inside your head. You can just snap out of it by controlling your thoughts” 

Oh, how I tried! I wanted to snap myself out of it. I willed it to go away. I tried thinking of happy things. 

I tried calling back my giant creatures and elves with musical hooves. They refused to come to my aid. All that was left now was a huge void and blackness.

I feel I have let everyone down in some way. I start to cry (A habit now). I cannot seem to stop the tears.

What I didn't know is that it is something much larger than any of my advisees and I have envisaged, anticipated or foreseen.

It is the beginning of a sharp curve, a painful detour, a journey that would lead me completely away from my destination, to the edge of a cliff. 

A journey that would almost take my life, destroy me completely, suck the life force out of me and then toss me away as an empty shell.

And the worst part is that it has just begun.

Impulse

The way we live dictates the way others experience us. Head or the heart, such is the perpetually primal dichotomy under which we exist. Which governs you? Are your actions decided by your mind or are you at the beckoning call of your emotions? Both have their positives and their pitfalls, and realistically we are all someone along a spectrum of both depending on the context we find ourselves in. Generally, though we may be polarized as either one. We need both to not just survive but to thrive, but a little impulse (in moderation) can do the body some good. 

"We write for the same reason that we walk, talk, climb mountains or swim the oceans - because we can. We have some impulse within us that makes us want to explain ourselves to other human beings. That's why we paint, that's why we dare to love someone - because we have the impulse to explain who we are." 

Maya Angelou

Going to EDC: Electric Daisy Carnival in November 2016 was an impulse I could not ignore.

Our emotions tell us our truest feelings in their rawest form. 

We learn slowly over time to curb our reactions and bottle up our feelings. 

We're told to think logically instead of trusting our gut. 

Of course, there's some truth and merit to that mindset but it also denies our most basic human instincts - that is to live by our most unbridled emotions. 

What is wrong with saying how we feel? 

Why are we socialized to lie, hide our emotions, and pretend we are okay when we are not?

 Why is our truth a burden and not a gift? 

My favorite book of all time, the one that truly awakened my passion for reading and words is "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. It is an original young adult novel but is different from all the rest because of the gravity of it. A world without hope, love, colors, etc. seems impossible and yet there are people who just might be living in it. 

There is a movement to unbridle ourselves. 

There are some that want to let go of this unwritten rules of respectability and rewrite what is socially acceptable. 

The natural order is, in fact, chaos - so let it be. 

I wish with every fiber of my being that we could all be free to say what we needed when we needed. 

I wish we let our hearts show. 

I wish we could be liberated in ourselves and one another. 

I wish we followed our impulses.

There is always more beneath the surface. 

It is a sentiment I try to hold near and dear to me daily. 

Whenever something happens, someone says something, or I just cannot figure out a person I strive to remember that there is always more to know. 

Something else is usually going on for them. 

They had some kind of experience that changed them. 

I have no idea what people have been through. 

It's why we have to demonstrate kindness even when others do not. 

We don't know enough, we can never know enough. 

We don't know the impact of our words or actions, for better and worse. 

We have to be bold, courageous, and vulnerable. 

We have to share our truths and then challenge others to do the same. 

It's only when we speak our truths that we begin to know and be known. 

Question authority, the rules, and the way things are. 

What else is there? There has to me more. What's going on elsewhere? What is stopping us for being brave and putting ourselves out there? What are we afraid of? 

Have a moment of bravery and the rest will follow. 

That's how we use our impulses.

Lately, I've been thinking more and more about being impulsive and letting my emotions guide some of my more minor life decisions. 

Basically, if I feel something I'm trying to act on it. 

I abhor the sentiment that we do not realize what we have until it's gone. 

I believe we should cherish things while we are able to know them. 

It's that keen awareness that lets us appreciate the people and things that have in our lives.

 Regret is not a feeling I want to experience often especially when I have the power to avoid it all together. 

If I miss my mom or dad, I literally pick up the phone and call them. 

If they don't answer, I text them a message. 

I save their hilarious voice notes from whatsapp because I love them. 

If I want to just put on my shoes and go for a run, I do. 

If I see someone alone and have the urge to talk to them, I walk over to them and make conversation. 

I see the privilege in those statements - not everyone is able to do so but so long as I am, I am going to take advantage of what has been given to me. 

Things never stay the same - in fact, they are constantly in flux. 

To act is to use moments to your benefit before they slip away. 

Instead of living in the future or the past, I want to live for now - for those around me, and for me. 

I want people to know I care about them (present tense) not wait until they are gone or it's too late. 

It's too important. 

One day we are going to look back on these days and wonder why we were ever worried about anything

Knowing all the times I could have said something to change a situation or just to make a tangible human connection and didn't still gets to me. 

I replay those moments over and over again in my head contemplating why I didn't strike up a conversation. 

I know my biases hold me back or my fears that others may have a prejudice against me.

 Again, none are valid because I cannot always tell someone's position/disposition towards me until I engage them. 

That's all it takes is a little bit of courage and a small bit of hope that knowing someone is going to, more often than not, better than not knowing them. 

How is it possible that we move concurrently in revolving circles, seeing one another pass by, but rarely break from our revolutions to collide? 

I want to change my trajectory at a moment's notice, and simultaneously do the same for others. 

I never know what someone else will teach me about the world, about life, or even about myself.

 Those are all lessons I want to learn though. 

All it takes is a moment of boldness and a little impulse.

Raabta

"I don't believe you ever get closure on anything. Things leave a permanent mark on you."

Allison Anders

Relationships can be fickle.

One day things can be fast and loose; the next, things are radio silent.

Sometimes it's that lightning strike of a connection that disappears just as quickly as it flashed in your life.

Other times it's a blizzard that inundates you for days on end and yet slowly but surely dissipates into nothingness.

The continuity between it all is that at some point that presence is not permanent - fleeting at best.

Why do some people just fizzle out of our lives?

Have you ever watched a sparkler (Phool-jari) burn itself out? There's that initial spark of blinding light, followed by sparks flying in all directions in the most simple and yet spectacular fashion, and soon enough what is left is a burnt carcass of something that used to literally/figuratively light us up.

That's what this whole happening of someone fizzling out of your lives is synonymous with. There's a mutual attraction and suddenly you're talking until the middle of the night, like 3AM, cheesing hard over the mutual love for Jane Austen or Faiz as your Phone casts a blue glow on your face. Every time you get a text message your heart flutters, your face lights up, and you are filled with this inexplicable excitement. They've said something witty and you are more than eager to respond to keep the harmless flirtatious banter going. Somebody taps out eventually and the next day happens.

The conversations are always so enthralling, whether they touch on topics of depth varies, but no matter what you are drawn in.

Then, one person gets busy and stops responding instantaneously.

Interest subsides, discouragement sets in, and that vivacious energy between you before ... all but gone.

You stop talking regularly.

Maybe you accidentally get a Snapchat sent to their entire friend's list. You respond awkwardly before realizing they put it on their story.- impersonal and kind of obnoxious.

Weeks go by, and you see them on Instagram living their life. For a split second, you wonder what went wrong, what they're up to now, and if you should reconnect. Rational thought shadows those ideas and you continue scrolling or unfollow them, never to be heard from or thought of again.

What's the causality of these relationship casualties?

Maybe it's the medium.

Texting, messaging, snapchatting, liking, and the rest.

There's this instant gratification we get from it all.

Does it matter who does it for us or why?

Could be a yes, and it very well might just be a no.

Having people readily available at your fingertips means that access doesn't have the same significance that it used to.

Beyond you know caring about the person you're having a conversation with, there's no incentive to give a damn.

They'll still be there if you text back now or later - unless they won't.

When that shift happens from live responses to whenever you feel like it that inconvenience factor comes into play.

Are they actually busy or are they no longer interested?

What did I say wrong?

You have to know that not everyone puts the same amount of emphasis on the connections we have. You hope people value you as much as you do them but when there's no gravity to the connection it's bound to float away. You have to hold it down, and ground it in something real. You have to talk and meet up in person. You have to set specific dates with times and locations. You have to actually go.

People are complicated.

People are simple.

People are simply complicated and complicatedly simple.

Thinking about why we get so preoccupied with just some people who leave and their aftermath brings up the idea that may we care about having someone to talk to, maybe the who doesn't necessarily matter.

Are we able to flesh out what impacts us so deeply when we fall out of contact?

Is the concern specific to the person or is it the connection itself that we enjoyed?

Making the distinction is important but at the same time maybe the two are inextricably linked. Everybody wants someone to pay attention to them. Those desires come and go. Some people need it more than others. For a while, it feels good to have someone as engaged as you are on the topic of you - and vice verse.

Especially when romantic connections can abound but that one-of-a-kind spark is a rarity. Those sparks oftentimes though are not sustainable. And sometimes there's no plan to keep that fire going.

Unless intentional ways of nurturing the flame and keeping the person in your life are made, it's doomed to fizzle out.

Who is to blame? Does it matter? It's probably both of us. The fizzle is mutual.

In the grand scheme of things, We could take charge and talk about going from daily communication to constantly miss one another. We could ask what is going on and mention how we feel.

Do we like what's going on and want to explore this?

Do we put ourselves out and be vulnerable?

It's all up to us. We have choices in how we act. We can enjoy the connection for what it is or we can cut the cords. We can feel good, have fun, smile a lot, and move on.

But,

"Vulnerability is the birthplace of connection and the path to the feeling of worthiness. If it doesn't feel vulnerable, the sharing is probably not constructive." 

~Brene Brown

There is a constant feeling in our culture that we might be missing out on something better, therefore, we rarely commit to a decision that we can’t back out of if something better comes along. However 

"There's a higher form of happiness in commitment. I'm counting on it." 

~Claire Forlani