Pain

I read about Mumbai and my heart breaks,
I read about India, and tears fall,
I read about the world and my strength falls apart,
I feel the pain, the sadness, the despair in the air,
I try hard to keep my head above the drowning sea of heartaches,
I look for things to do to alleviate the pain,
I give a prayer to ease but all seems in vain

As I struggle, as I moan, as I wail,
I listen to the pain
And I hear it say, ‘I don’t know what’s to come, I know it hurts, I fear there be will much to bear, I fear nothing will be enough’
And I look for words to resonate with this pain,
And I find a calm when I find words that seem like a balm,
The pain says, ‘when you feel me, you find compassion, you find love’

And I know that’s what I can do,
Hold the love, the compassion for I can,
For the ones who can’t,
For the ones who want it,
For the ones who need it,
For the ones who will grieve,
For that’s the one thing that helps always heal..

• 

A Little Calm Goes A Long Way

Adverse experiences ask much out of us. Today world over, much is being asked out of our psychological selves. We are all taking physical precautions to protect ourselves against the spread of the COVID-19. Keeping the faith, most of us will prevail.

There is one element that we also need to focus on – our psychological response to the situation. Our brain will rightfully perceive COVID-19 as a possible life threat to us and our loved ones and possibly the world we know it.

That means our body will be ready to get our body’s stress response to respond – we will go into fight-flight-freeze to protect ourselves. It is a response that is hardwired into the oldest part of our brain – the reptilian part. This is life saving and necessary adaptation to possible danger. It also means that our brain suspends our thinking part of the brain, the part of the brain that is located just behind our forehead and the one we Humans have in the most advanced form. This means our emotional brain and the most primitive part of our brain – the reptilian brain is taking charge. All the amazing Knowledge about how to take care and prevent threat stored in the thinking part of the brain is not available to us. We will response reflexively to the threat – through fear & panic and possibly will run away from the danger, possibly shut down or likelihood, is pick up fights or have angry outbursts.

The unpredictability and uncertainty of the situation makes it a bit worse and stretches our stress response system. Stress response is great in short bursts for our body and immune system. Since the outbreak has been going on for sometime and may go on, we may need active intervention to relax our stress response.

we may find ourselves responding from a place of panic, fear and a sense of distrust.
Taking a few minutes to keep checking inward can help us remain in our calm zone. We may find ourselves breathing shallow, have tight knot in our stomach, in our belly, tightness in our shoulders, a sense of dread in our chest, restlessness in our body, irritation bubbling in our hands & jaw, headaches, – take a few moments to do things that will calm the system down and then choose to respond to things around you.

There are a few things that we can do to calm our brain today.

1. Sit comfortably in your chair, place a hand on your heart, one on your belly. Bring your focus on your breathing, as you breath in, ensure that your belly moves outwards like a ballon being filled with air. Then breathe out slowly, the belly moving inwards like air is being let out of a balloon slowly.

2. Sit around the house, name 5 objects that are red, 4 that are blue, 3 that are pink, 2 that are brown, 1 that is purple. List what sounds you can hear, focus on your sense of smell and pick out the fragrances around, feel the chair beneath you, push your feet against the ground, feel the woodenness of the chair against your back. Roll your tongue in your mouth and the touch the tip of your tongue to the upper roof of your mouth. Let it tickle you and generate more saliva. This is a signal to your body that you are ok, your are safe and it’s ok to let your stress response cool down.

These are just two relaxation techniques for the body. I am sure many of us have more. Use what feels good for your body. Ensure that you remain connected with your loved ones, play board games, dance to music, sing songs, meditate to soothing mantras, laugh a little and hold yourself with love.

As we take care of ourselves, we can then focus our energies towards others. Remember the instructions in case of emergency on the plane, put on your mask before you help anyone else.
Self care will help us all to hold compassion for ourselves and others. We are all sailing in the same boat. And we need each other’s calm brains to get through this. We need each other more than ever for our brain is a social organ, it’s in the connection to each other that we survive, that we learn to thrive

Do share things that have worked for you too.

Some ideas to keep calm

The Legacy of Trauma

As I listen to the Ayodhya verdict, a dispute that has spanned over 2 centuries at least, a conflict that has created a further chasm between two religious communities, a Cold War that threatens to perpetuate violence at every bend, I remember as a tween I was marked indelibly by the Mumbai riots and Mumbai bomb blasts in 1992-93.

My past experiences flashed right before my eyes, bringing a grief alive that I didn’t know existed with such intensity. Flashes of terror felt at that time, understanding ‘who’ belonged to ‘what’ religion for the first time in my life, knowing what Danger meant in the outside world. I have that image, a movie you May say that played live in my head.

I was playing in the playground of my apartment, it was evening, dusk had just fallen. There an uneasy calm in the air, things had been volatile for a few days. But as children are, my life was but little impacted by it. I was protected by privilege, I was safer than most in this city. But I realised what terror would mean in a few seconds. I saw a group of people running, screaming pure panic. I heard them before I saw them, my heart had already started galloping, gearing up for danger that my gut had sensed even before my brain had started to process what was unfolding.

In that chaos, I heard people screaming about people coming with swords and knives and ‘run for your life’ cries. I saw my father, a distance away, panicked and My child brain knew it was real danger. As seconds rolled by, and before elders in the playground could begin to fathom what was happening, more people screaming in horror ran on the road, hurtling towards what safety they could think of. All hell broke lose, my father screamed for all of us to run up the stairs and get into the house. The order for flee was made, my legs scrambled with energy of their own and it carried me faster than I could remember. Bile rose in my mouth even though I knew safety was only a distance away. Along with us jostling to get into the house, came a young man we hadn’t seen before. He asked my father for shelter in our house. All of us stood askance wondering if he could be trusted. Deep distrust and danger was wafting in the air, I could see the torturous dilemma on my father’s eyes. His religion didn’t matter, his intentions did. No one could vouch for that. I felt panic for him. The child that I was saw the terror of the child in me. But could he be trusted?

That was the learning of that 12 year old – the world has changed irrevocably. There is danger in places you didn’t know. Religion mattered. Faith was a matter of belonging. Safety is a notion.

In the next 4 months, trauma battered mumbaiites. It never was the same again. Our souls were marked with hurt, betrayal and grief. No one told me this was trauma.

Traumas are events that are beyond our norma coping abilities, marked by helplessness, sheer terror and a deep sense of powerlessness.

It’s the idea of kill or be killed, it’s a matter of survival. The Ayodhya incident in 1992 marked a serious of traumatic events in Mumbai. That continued till 2008.

I realise today my external events along with a few adverse personal events had embedded a passivity and helplessness that is not easily surmounted. These I realise are the lingering effects of traumatic responses. This is a normal response to trauma. This is wound that needs healing. Prognosis is good, but for that it needs to be acknowledged. For what is not acknowledged cannot be healed.

Now imagine, I am aware of it and I am a mental health professional. We have never afforded these events as ‘traumas’ in our reference. It’s never spoken of. We have just moved on, wounded. Imagine an entire generation of kids and adults who are waiting helpless for things to change, to not protest, to not rock the boat, a resignation to our fate, an expectation of adversity, a making do when that happens cos it will happen. Yet, never hold people accountable for the bad jobs they do, not drawing healthy boundaries when they the violation starts small, or give in to rage to demand our rights, feel strong, demanding entitled to having our wants, needs met, seeking power so that we can stay above danger. Seeking power so our anger finds an outlet, using power to make the other powerless so that we feel safer. I can go on. These are the adaptations that a unhealed wound makes to survive.

Now think Mumbai, and you can see all this come alive. A city who is wounded, a city whose inhabitants are in desperate need of healing, a city who needs to heal, a city whose needs & wants are being continually exploited, a city who can do with a lot of love & compassion.

A shout out and a big warm hug to all who resonate what I have written about. Some loving kindness to all those whose wounds have resurfaced in the last few days, some compassion for all who are hurting and a listening ear to all the hearts who want to be seen.

Trauma is not what happened to you, trauma is what is left in our minds and bodies. And for all of us who have experienced it, the chances of healing are fantastic and means are available.

And remember Leonard Cohen’s words,

“Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.”

The Malady of Feeling Nothing

I saw the movie ‘Joker’ the past weekend. Ever since that day, words have been aching to tumble out and fly across the keyboard. They can’t go fast enough or sound articulate enough to say what I deeply feel or seem to experience viscerally.

This is not a movie review and there will be some spoilers. And it will need you to dip into your deepest wounds and experiences to feel it. And I urge you to feel it, experience it, it is needed to be human, it is needed to save the world, one person at a time. Today on the day of Dussehra, it seems most appropriate to pen down.

If I needed to write a précis for the movie I would sum it up in the two sentences, “I have felt like I have never existed in my life. I hope my death makes more sense than my life ever has” Arthur (joker) is strange, creepy and best avoided by all of us. He has a condition in which he erupts into a compulsive, mirthless laughter that eerily sounds like crying in parts. It’s haunted. He lives with his mother, who seems as strange as him. He is also mentally ill, bullied mercilessly, without a backbone, a thoroughly pitiful man. He isn’t the villain we want him to be, he is weak, passive and subservient. He is nothing.

Arthur also has severe childhood trauma. He has suffered horrendous childhood abuse, a mentally ill mother and very little support along the way. Arthur embodies what happens to children who go through abject neglect and extreme disconnection. He also enacts his mother’s dominant disillusioned belief that he was a very ‘happy’ child who was put on this earth with the sole purpose of spreading happiness and joy. Arthur tries his best to emulate that, all the while feeling nothing, empty and devoid of vitality.

Then Arthur chances upon feeling alive! He happens to use a loaned gun to shoot one of his bullies. Not that bad a bully either, just a garden variety jerk. A jerk whom we all have encountered, whom most of us can push back. But Arthur kills and discovers power, discovers vitality and swagger. Something that he never has had. He also swings from his deadened inner world to the burning, destructive flames of rage. Any trauma therapist worth their salt will tell you that two extremes of our stress response are present in all wounded, traumatised beings. We have 5 ways to protect against danger – cry for help, fight, flight, freeze & give in or collapse. Arthur has lived his life with the last one, he’s nothing, he’s dead, he’s numb, he’s a nobody, he’s surviving in a world that for him was replete with danger, not interested in him and used him for its own pleasure. He realised he was just a means to an end, a medium, a tool, an object. He was dispensable.

When Arthur changes upon the rage that threatens to annihilate him inside, he turns it on the world. He also in his quest to feel alive, starts a movement inadvertently. All people who seem to be wounded in a similar way appear to see his actions as a validation of their inner pain, they all flock to his ways, paint it with their own pain, suffering and he becomes an unwilling icon. Arthur loves it. For the first time in his life, Arthur is alive, he is seen, he exists. He is living testimony to the two statements I wrote of at the start. His path towards self annihilation sets him free, free of deadness, free of being nothing. He is alive in all of his self destructive glory setting ablaze a chain of events in which no one wins.

I left the cinema hall deeply saddened, my heart broken, steeped in despair. I wondered if it takes burning outside in the world for us to see the deadness of many. Are we as a society not making space for the many wounded, traumatised children who are suffering unspeakable terror? Not all children turn into Arthur, not all children incite violence, but all children do become a caricature of what they are, what they can be. Most wounded children do become wounded adults who pass on their trauma without intending to. Will it take only extreme violence for us to see that our malady today is that of feeling nothing or disconnection?

Our brains are wired for connection. Our bodies crave being seen, loved, understood. Connection is our biological imperative. There is nothing without it and so much with it.

Will you see another even when they feel nothing?

Will you hold space for me even when I feel I deserve nothing?

Will you open your heart to the wounded me when I bare my soul to you?

Will you let yourself be as human as another is?

Chance

What do you do when past pain comes up,

What do you do when pain wants to act out,

What do you do when conscience wants it to close up,

How does one give words to the pain & the conscience,

For if one is allowed to win,

The pain but continues, it thrives

What do you do when pain comes up,

What do you do when conscience wants it to shut down,

You gather both close,

Hold them with love,

Feel the pain of being not seen, of not having had a voice to protest

You mourn the time lost,

You forgive you for the words not found,

You understand the magnanimity of the wound,

You wonder about the wisdom gained,

You ponder on how much to hold,

How much you to let go,

And you commence the journey to find the words for the pain that remains,

with compassion for you and the other,

For when we traverse this road,

The experience becomes a memory,

Pain becomes knowledge,

Past ceases to intrude,

Present has a chance to bloom

Antarmukhi

Embracing the Shades

For the last few months, my words seemed to be struggling, I felt like I couldn’t find my voice. As I reflected, healed, filled in some gaps, increased my self care & compassion for myself, made space to be less than perfect, embarked on the struggle to know appropriate responsibility, I began to to find my voice.

And I haven’t even covered half of the captions! Such is the complexity of the human mind, shaped by the intertwining of nature and nurture and all that lies between the two.

Today I speak of the all or nothing trap. Either what I write is the best & loved by all or I can’t write at all. Impossible task you may say and I agree! Yet, unknowingly this is the benchmark I had set for myself. As a child, I could aim for the ‘perfect’ and get it a lot of times. The times I couldn’t, I didn’t try the activity or had a huge shame attack as a coping mechanism. As a result, anxiety around performance remained a huge part of my growing up years. The ‘all or nothing’ trap, a child’s thought, caught in an adult’s mind. A little, lonely, desperate for love child caught into thinking that I were perfect I would be loved, seen, understood. And for years I found that child a bit repulsive, and at other times, her philosophy felt like the gospel truth. Over the last few years, especially the last months, I am building a relationship with her. As I find words to say what her experience has been like, my eyes fill with tears at how lonely and desperate she felt all these years.. and today we both feel immense gratitude to have found each other and find the continuums of life. She can decide which book to read, I can deal with choices of adult life, with choices and freedom.

Sometimes we are frozen in time, encapsulated by our adaptations demanded of us at another time in another age. We live out those learned truths in a time where they are not needed, are not relevant. We, to our great loss, try to change the environment to fit that truth. And as know that is not a choice we really have and unwittingly perpetuate our cycle of powerlessness and helplessness.

So may be this may speak to you, the words, the voice I found,

For you may be on a similar continuum as I,

For life is but shades of grey

Uniquely You

I have battled with my hair all my life. I have wished it becomes something that it is not. As a teen, I spent some wishful time in front of a mirror wondering how it would be to have straight hair. Wished, hoped, wondered and dreamed. And then, I tried to fit in the pigeon hole of what had been popular, haircuts meant for straighter hair. In case you are wondering, I have wavy hair, 2a-2b type. Apparently my hair is significant enough, common enough to belong to a type! Hurrah! I felt like I was coming home!

By now you must be wondering about the mundaneness of my post. My struggle with my hair is anything but mundane. I have frizzy hair, when left long in length with the high humidity of the city I live in, I would give a lion a run for his mane. Till I became old enough to own an hair straightener, till I found courage enough to cut my hair short, till I gave into my love for coloured hair, red being my all time favourite. Though I loved my different phases, I never found love for my hair the way it is. It never did what I wanted it to do. It never made me feel as attractive, it never felt soft enough to touch no matter how much care I took of it. I like saying my hair has a life of its own, with the humidity you never know what shape it will want to take on what day! Very entertaining, very autonomous!

Till, I found my type, 2a-2b and my relationship with hair changed. It’s still a new one and it’s still being built and I hope it will be a more loving one. I realised what I needed to do with it keeping in mind the way it is. What I considered it’s flaws and weaknesses, became its biggest strengths. What I thought needed to be straightened, could curl up in whatever wonderful way it wanted to, leaving me look like I had spent my night in hair rollers. I was shocked at how naturally curled my hair liked to be, when I just let it be and used things keeping in minds it’s very nature, creating an environment to help it thrive.

After three paragraphs of my abject delight with my hair, I tell you that I see this journey as symbolic, as a metaphor for some of the struggles we all go through. I wanted to be something I needn’t be, rejecting what I could be most of my hair life. For some of us, that’s a tough battle for things inside of us – too sensitive, too bright, too silly, too energetic, too docile, too naughty, too funny, too giving, too much more. Too much of anything means there is too less of something else, as an unsaid statement.

We commonly see this in the way we see our children. A child who is persistent, easily becomes stubborn when our views are challenged, a child who is deliberate in their approach to life, easily becomes shy and fearful in our eyes, a child who thrives in a social situation, easily is loved or annoying depending on our predisposition. What we fail to see it talks about a human beings temperament. A child who is persistent has a idea of what they want and pursue it doggedly, they are more autonomous; a child who is deliberate is possibly taking in a lot of information from the environment and needs time to reprocess it and decided her approach to it; a child who loves interactions, derives energy from other people.

And if we create an environment to help these children learn to work with their unique characteristics, imagine what they can do. You can see the persistent child as a part of think-tank looking for that elusive solution, the deliberating child as an actuary or a security adviser, the exuberant child as sales person, a PR executive, a trainer… the list for each is endless drawing on their strengths.

Now think of all the things you rejected or disliked in your self or wished for something else. Would you be able to see it in a different light? Can you create an environment that will help it to blossom? Can you take the first step to just be curious about it? Then may be to accept it? And then may be to build slowly a relationship with it, to understand its needs, to provide for it and then watch it blossom..

Will you give yourself that chance? Will you give yourself that love?

“When you let be what is the way it is, it can then make the journey to become what it can best be”

Rising

There are words waiting to be said,

There are words aching to be seen,

There is pain waiting to take a form,

There is grief dying to be held,

Experiences wanting to be shared,

As I weave all together,

A story emerges,

Waiting to be told,

Waiting to be heard,

Waiting to be felt,

In the warp and weft of all that is bound together,

With a compassionate heart,

With a listening ear,

With a loving gaze,

I see ‘me’ rising,

At last like Phoenix from the ashes,

Glorious, vibrant and whole,

I see ‘me’ rising

The Stories in Our Lifestory

ICC Cricket World Cup is on. I am a cricket fan, my family is cricket crazy and I have a big family. I can never watch cricket silently. I am always yelling, applauding, expressing- rather loudly I must say even when I am alone. Even appearing crazy to people outside my home possibly waiting for the elevators or my neighbour who I am sure gets to hear my passionate cries, does not shame me enough to tone down!!

I have never played cricket professionally or for that matter gully cricket either. It was a game played by ‘boys’ who never seem to entertain little girls. I also understand some finer nuances of the game, not as much but still do. My Facebook page becomes littered with my somewhat mad comments when watching a match. I have to say something cos I feel a lot. I am emotionally, intellectually invested in the game, a game that otherwise doesn’t matter to me, players whom I don’t follow on any social media, don’t play any cricket based video games, don’t have any opinion on whom to pick- I am not an expert, yet I am passionate.

This puzzled me. Made me wonder of my own responses and reactions and set me on a journey of some reflections and introspection. And then it hit me, just like a sixer, hit right out of the boundary rope.

Watching cricket as a family, huge extended family is one of the fondest memories of my childhood. It was like a tradition in my home, 3 generations in various permutations and combinations would watch the match together. My late grandpa would see it start to finish. They would analyse it to death. The man of few words, my grandfather had a lot to say when it was about cricket. Male and female members all together watched it, watching cricket equalised genders in my home. All feelings were welcome, even those we ‘don’t speak of’. My father & uncles played in the local club sometimes. My father and brother wanted to play professionally but for various reasons couldn’t. Sunday cricket was a given in the apartment complex. Everyone was alive, connected and happy when cricket was involved. We were allowed to scream, shout, be aggressive, trade insults, be passionate, compete and bond with little or no inhibitions. This was one of the most times when I felt truly and well alive! And I saw my loved ones the most alive and ready to connect over cricket. This was just inside my home.

Outside the community and the immediate world be abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Strangers would share feelings and fears. They would smile at each other and rejoice in moments of triumph together.. we were all connected in that singular moment with our love for a common thing. That I realised is the most beautiful experience one could have, experienced in the strangest form. Just yesterday, as India struggled with winning what was supposed to an ‘easy win’, I held my phone in an elevator and sighed with nervousness as I checked the score on my phone. A man standing next to me, who was talking business with his colleague, noticed my sigh and the phone, & asked, “what’s the score ma’am?'” With an expression of equal nervousness. His eyes communicated empathy for my mental state. Ain’t that strange? A country where gender divides, feelings may not be acknowledged, I feel a moment of tuning in and connection over a game, all unspoken, all non-verbal.

It brings me to our core need. Our need to be seen, to be understood, to be connected to one another. To know what you may be thinking, feeling, experiencing and be reflected in the mind of another, at times without words. That my friends, is ‘Attunement‘. The experience of tuning in another’s inner world, to let our right brain connect to another’s, to let it impact us, to let it speak to to us and then we know what it may be like to walk in another’s shoes- empathy. And the recognition and tuning in into another’s world helps build the brain in a young child, it acts as major calming tool, it helps us see the world as a safe, fair and at times exciting place. It also sets the foundation for better emotional skills in the future, what popularly is known as ’emotional intelligence’.

Imagine my surprise when I realised that cricket had done some of that for me. It had given me and continues to give life’s most soothing experiences. It’s the freedom to be ‘you’, it’s freedom to be ‘alive’, it’s a freedom to ‘connect’ with another with all parts of you- even with the screaming, competitive, sometimes-cheating parts of you!

That’s an experience that I would keep wanting to have, to keep it alive inside of me and experiencing it again and again!

Bring it on India! Let’s connect!

Precipice

You stand at the precipice of a choice,

A choice that changes all,

Nothing remains the same at all,

It’s not about good or bad,

It’s about change is all..

There are times events happen,

There is no choice in that

And there are times when you are aware

Of what is and what can be,

What can be and what follows may not be all that you desire,

Yet it holds in it the wants & choices you wish for,

It evokes excitement, relief and fear,

You stand at the precipice of a choice,

A choice that changes all,

Nothing remains the same at all.