Day 2

When you are writing after a long time, properly writing, anyway...you are constantly bothered by the uncertainty of whether it is a temporary creative spurt, or whether it is actually your ability to string words for hours and hours that has returned to you. Considering the fact that you have not written in what seems like (and probably is) months, you would expect it to come back to you tainted. Accompanied by an inferior memory of words and rustiness when it comes to translating your thoughts. This has been my first proper, true-to-the-word writer's block. And I'm very pleasantly surprised to find my writing come back to me intact. Almost like it had been stowed away in some dark corner,  packaged properly in bubble wrap and one fine Saturday morning, it lands on your lap, untouched and so familiar.

Which just goes to show how much the state of your mind matters when it comes to the proper manifestation on your talent(s). I personally regret the fact that I was not born with a natural ability for anything spectacular. When I voiced this out to my parents (in separate instances), my father, the perfect blend of pragmatism and optimism, pointed out that I had a way with words. The gift of the gab, as a friend described it very early in my life. My mother, e possessing the kind of blind love only a mother can, told me I was the nicest person she know, and that was enough for a lifetime.

I wish I could take either of them more seriously. But I'm far too skeptical for that.

How much weight does my mother's claim have, when she is unaware of 90% of the shenanigans I have got myself wrapped up in while growing up?
As for my Dad...I think I can write. But I mostly attribute it to the amount of thoughts in my head at any given point of time. It would be impossible to let them remain that way, and not give them words.

One of the most exasperating feelings in the world is when you fail to convey that your musings are not a way of asking for reassurances. In fact, most of the times, you just want them to be voiced out, since they are threatening to overwhelm your mind. You don't want a reaction to them.

Anyway. I can see an opportunity when it is placed before me. And I am going to write whenever I find the urge to.

I am thinking I should continue my practice of not mentioning names in my blog. Not for any other reason but for the fact that it is at times a little disturbing to find your name written out on anybody's journal, free for anybody to see. So I'll stick to fictitious names instead of initials (something I have done for the last 4 years in my other blog, which got a little confusing after a point of time).

More later (and there is such joy in meaning this)

M


Later.


Irrationality and more irrationality. The lows to which my mind can take me still has a capacity to astound. Day 2 of the Indulgence Pact with myself has been a disappointment, mostly. I ended up spending most of the day reading or sleeping or eating so frequently, I'm actually not even exaggerating when I say I must have gained a pound or two over the last two days.

Somewhere through what was possibly my 5th meal of the day, I stopped, fork in my mouth and everything, and pictured myself sitting the same way, years into the future, a much fatter version of what I am now, eating away my emotions. Isn't that what it is called when eating is your answer to everything? Sometimes I swear that is exactly how it is for me.

How shameful.

The problem with sleeping too much, for me, is dreaming too much. And that is exactly why I never slept in the afternoon while growing up. I would get vivid unpleasant dreams (not exactly nightmares, but equally disturbing) and wake up shaking like a leaf, trying to explain to someone why I was so scared of sleeping in the day. Why I thought any of that would change overnight is beyond me. I am almost too scared to go back to bed now till absolutely necessary.

And then the second I would wake up and pull myself together (As my friend the Goopster would advice) I would be so consumed in irrational, negative thoughts, the only other option would be to shut myself off completely and feed into it some more. Vicious cycle much?

Absolutely.

I'm getting a little tired of stewing around in this perpetual self imposed glumness now and like always, Im going to start working to distract/tire myself till I'm back to normal. Because right now, talking to people would just cause more damage. My best friend texted me a while ago telling me what an amazing day he had and it took me ALL my strength and maturity to reply back with civility. Have you ever noticed how you so promptly snap back against the people you love the most? It's like you have taken them and their patience for granted and given yourself a permanent license to be as moody and temperamental with them as you wish to be.

I saved him some of  that today. Pat back Misha.

Okay. Must study. Need to stop procrastinating.

Today

This new blog does not signify some landmark event of my life. I have not reached any elevated plane of realization, neither have I significantly changed as a person. I am the same accident-prone, overly impulsive, reactionary person that I have been for the last 19 years of my life. This date does not hold any unique significance to me. To be fair, it is just a normal Saturday.

Except for the fact that unlike all other Saturdays, I did not wake up at seven in the morning and rush for my first lecture. I put my phone on Silent and continued to sleep for another two hours. Something told me I didn't have it in me to travel two hours to college today. Something told me I needed to rest myself completely over the weekend, as best as I could. Immediately, my conscience started to hunt for justifications for this sort of indulgence. Because our lives have trained us to not give ourselves any extra care and attention unless some colossal achievement has been made which validates this. And just like that, we live our life hurtling from one task to another, one place to another, stopping for minute-long breathers and then resuming the race again. My conscience lives up to expectations. As soon as I put my phone on Silent and cancel the Alarms, a snide voice in my head asks me why.

"Do you really think you can afford to take so many breaks in life, Misha?"

Well...no. And haven't we been taught to fight that monster called Laziness and tide over adversity on the grand old boat of Might? But is this laziness really? Last night was terrible. I came back home to find a package of my favorite kinds of chocolate from my Mom. A random gesture of affection, to remind me how much they miss me back at home. A very close friend texted me around the same time to tell me he had reached home (he has gone back home for a fortnight for his sister's wedding). And all of a sudden a tidal wave of melancholy crashed into me. It took me completely by surprise. So much so that I landed flat with no time to break my fall. All the familiar thoughts of loneliness and non-belonging and home-sickness swirled around me. You know when you are fighting a lost battle with your mind. And I did not have the strength to shake this sudden low off and distract myself with anything. I just knew I needed a break. A proper one. Spent just doing the things my instinct told me to. Not what I ought to.

And so I made up my mind to resume working on my very first New Years Resolution. This was made somewhere in early November, about a week after my ex boyfriend broke up with me without so much as a word of explanation, automatically taking away from me the biggest and only security blanket I had carried with me to this new unfamiliar city. I lost the person I considered my best friend and confidante. In the process of settling in and getting accustomed to college, I had stopped trying to make any new friends since I took it for granted that I had my closest friend by me. Not to ramble about this more than necessary (self pity loves a good chat), I was thrown off completely by shock as to how lonely I really was. This was about the time I went back home for Diwali and somehow managed to hold my bearings, giving way only a few times, that too in seclusion. To be honest, I was broken. True to the word shattered. Not because I did not have a "boyfriend" figure anymore. I doubt I ever had that with him. We had the most abusive, violent, poisonous relationship, to be honest. But he was still my closest friend. I still spent 80 per cent of my days writing/talking to him. And it was all gone in literally a matter of a few hours.

My friend P was with me every second of this, talking to me for hours on the phone. Chiding me and urging me to pull myself together. I took my first proper break late October, two days after the break up. This was after staying up through the night crying and finally throwing up because it was impossible to cry more. Getting out of bed was not an option. I called her up at 6 in the morning, not bothering to consider if she would be sleeping. I just needed some validation. And she told me exactly what I wanted to hear. She said- "Take a day off. Completely. Don't worry about college, don't worry about your studies. Just make yourself breakfast. Eat well. Watch something on your laptop for the entire day till you fall asleep. And switch your phone off."
I watched Friends reruns for 9 hours that day, interrupted only by trips to the bathroom or kitchen. By the end of it, I was not crying. I was exhausted, every cell of my body was crying for some rest. And I slept. Fitfully. After more than 72 hours, I slept like a rock.

When I woke up, I made a resolution. I promised myself that I would pick up all the pieces and start fixing my life properly. I resolved to do whatever it took to love MYSELF and be content with my own company and not look outwards for love and reassurance.

Its been 4 months. I don't talk to my ex anymore. I went out and made an actual effort to meet people and ended up making a bunch of amazing friends. And although it did not happen overnight (none of these things do), I was happy. For the first time in Bombay, I could smile for no reason. I could come back home as late as I wanted. I could sit on the ledge at Carter road and have 2 hour conversations about everything under the sky. I could go get a drink with a very special girl friend and talk without inhibition about my darkest fears and hers. I could play video games (and suck at it), I could write Inboxes to people without fearing someone reading them and fighting with me later. I could stop justifying my character.

This break is of a different kind. Today I felt the need to remind myself of my resolution. Of how I'm getting there but nowhere close to the end. Of how there is so much more to be done...its a constant process.

And more than anything, what sets today apart from every other day the last four months...I woke up with an intense, unexplainable urge to write. I'm too scared to scroll up to even see how much I've written, because I have been incapable of doing so for months now. My dearest friend, writing, had taken what seemed like a permanent vacation from me. But turns out I was a little too hasty in my assumption.

And thats why the new blog.

That's why; Today.