Reflections of a restless eccentric

 I write this on your birthday. There's so much on my mind that I haven't said to you. I don't know if I'll ever say all this to you, because being honest and being cruel don't seem very different at this point. But there's also all the love I have for you, and I find myself feeling this strange mixture of emotions - love, sorrow, pain, grief and hatred. I write this as much for me as for anyone else, as a catharsis from the intensity of watching a parent go through chronic illness and deterioration. Whenever I call, I hear your screams in the background. I hear the constant pain, the panic, and anxiety. The shrieks of a tortured soul existing. Not living, but merely existing, every moment spent so agonizingly. I genuinely feel sad for you, but I feel sadder for Mom. 'For better or worse, in sickness and in health' sounds glorious during a wedding, but surely there must be a limit to the worse and the sickness? How does one live with a spouse who not onl...

Before this happened, I have felt many times that my life was busy. Hectic. It was hard to prioritize between so many things- work, hobbies, personal responsibilities at home, spending time with my husband, parents and in-laws. But now, all of that seems like a piece of cake. Because I had agency over most of these things. I could say to myself- Oh, I have 3 deadlines at work this week. I'm not going to visit my parents.  Or I'm going to prioritize spending time with my husband this weekend, so no work for a couple of days. Of course, there would be the unpredictable interruption every now and then. My parents would call asking for something during a busy period, or someone would fall sick, and so on. But on other "normal" days, things were manageable. After my dad's stroke though, I feel like I have zero control over my schedule. From one day to the next, I have no idea what will come up. And that makes me feel powerless. Especially because I don't want to co...

Guilt has been a big part of my life for the past 1.5 years. Talking about it often brought up more guilt, and therefore I used to avoid it entirely. But eventually, living with it became harder, and I had to confront it and process it. Writing about it is one of the first things I wanted to do, and here I am. The guilt started from the very first moment of my father's stroke. I knew he was depressed. I should have done something. I should have definitely visited more often. Or at least called more often. He must have really missed me after I got married. I was filled with these thoughts, and my guilt was so extreme that I felt partly responsible for his stroke. In one of the most empathetic emails I have ever received, a dear friend told me the guilt was not mine to bear. Although I heard and remembered her words, I could not find relief. A few days later, as the financial crisis started to hit, I felt guilty about more things: I shouldn't have quit that job. My parents would ...

“Hope” is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words  And never stops at all           - Emily Dickinson One of the most intimidating things about this year was managing all of my parents' finances and chores along with my work and personal responsibilities. No matter how well I planned, something came up out of the blue at the last minute. My mom would tell me a day or two before the deadline and I would have to somehow accommodate it in my schedule and get it done. The fact that it was always unfamiliar stuff coupled with broken and badly designed websites and apps made it no easier on me. Dealing with this put a lot of pressure on me, and I despised it for taking away that last bit of control I thought I had over my life.  Among many such incidents, my mom once called telling me that my dad's chartered accountant license was due for renewal in the next two days and that he wanted it done. As usual, I h...

It is my ritual to write a thanksgiving post every time I turn a year older. Last year, I had ten months of normal life and one really tragic month. I focused on the ten and all the happy moments they had. But this year, I've spent all 12 months under the dark umbrella of grief. There hasn't been a single day in this year where I've been untouched by sorrow, stress or worry. I've forgotten what it is to have a normal life. To have a few days of pure and unadulterated happiness and peace. What do I have to be thankful for then?  A lot, actually. It can be really surprising to learn this, but grief and gratitude can co-exist. In the initial days following my dad's stroke, I experienced a profound sense of gratitude even for the smallest things. I was living on the edge, and felt the uncertainty of life in every breath. That actually made it easy for me to be grateful, even for the all things I'd taken for granted in the past.  I remember ordering a few essentials ...

It has been a year since the day of my father's stroke. A year that feels like a lifetime. A lifetime of pain, worry and grief. As a habitual overthinker, I wonder, apart from being on this insane emotional roller-coaster, is there anything that I have learnt from all this? Anything I can say that might be remotely helpful to someone else navigating choppy waters? And that's how I ended up writing this. When something goes awry in a big way, it is natural to feel sad, worried or afraid. There is nothing wrong with this, and it is perfectly fine to feel these emotions.  But what I think is completely avoidable is the struggles that come out of our ideas of fairness and how our lives should play out. For a long time, I have known that life is not fair. Consciously, I'd never even expected life to be fair to me. But I've spent many a day in misery because somehow, I still felt angry and betrayed and upset. For instance, I'd feel very triggered when I met relatives or f...

For 3 months now, I have found no words to describe what is happening. Some horrors are best left undescribed, I think, and endure in silence. When people ask me How is your father doing? I struggle to find the words. For how do I tell them that the person I've always loved and looked up to has turned into a monster I barely recognize? How do I tell them that the person who was brave and strong all his life has become an emotional wreck? How do I tell them that I struggle to stay in his presence even for 5 minutes, that it feels like nothing short of torture to listen to his endless screams? How do I tell them any of this, all of this, while still respecting and honoring my father? I felt guilty and hesitant even when I think about it, and so I have labeled these thoughts unspeakable, and never given voice to them. But this is my reality now, a sordid and gruesome one that I must wake up to and confront, even if it makes me want to have never existed. Till yesterday, when a strang...