An Ode to Survival

An abstract reference to a year or so of my life knowing well enough that it’s definitely not just me.

Once upon a time, not so long ago … Well, actually —

Back in December 2018, jobless and clueless after months of having completed a Master’s degree, I took a shot at the UGC NET/JRF exams, because, you know, “What did I have to lose anyway?” And, in January 2019, NTA UGC announced the results.

At almost 2:00 am on the 5th day of the year, I learned that I had qualified for the Junior Research Fellowship and National Eligibility Test with 100 percentile marks in my subject. Unbelievable as it was, this news was a faint glimmer of silver in quite a long time. And, I was super elated, absolutely thrilled to make 2019 “THE YEAR OF MY LIFE!!” You know how it is!

All of a sudden, my brain just went off like, “Okay. So, you have overworked me enough and I really need a break now. I am done.”

And my heart still in this happy high said, “Of course. Why not? Go on. Take a break. We’ll be just fine without you.”

And with that, 2019 turned out to be the most brainless year of my life.

There were, purely by God’s grace, a handful of life-saving sparkles of wisdom here and there. But, by and large, I went through 2019 in some sort of a trance, high on life and completely devoid of any good sense of judgement in every aspect of my life.

It was not until December that year or January 2020, in fact, that I, terribly embarrassed and deeply wounded, welcomed my brain back from its year-long vacation with happy tears. Henceforth, began a trek onto emotional resilience and self-acceptance.

Yes. I learnt that in therapy too.

I had the melting down “Don’t you dare leave me ever again!” conversation with my brain. My mind, to the best of its ability, took charge of every possible damage control mission and went on auto-pilot, cursing the hell out of me every now and then, and quite rightfully so. But then, I was drained of all vigour and life. I had completely given up on life, on myself.

In the meanwhile, my mind began to nurture eternal gratitude for the few people, and pawsome creatures, in my life who looked out for me, saw me through what I never thought I’d survive, never gave up on me, supported me, listened to me, put up with me, and continued to be so extremely patient with even the most troubled, crankiest, selfish, irresponsible picture of me.

But you see, the return of my brain also marked the return of times gone by. Times. And patterns.

Patterns of burning up in the fire-fighting. Patterns of adsorbing into my personality all the unwanted that happen to me. Patterns of me turning so very difficult for my closest circle because I don’t know how else to hurt myself enough into evolution. Flashbacks of me becoming a product of what happens to me, and walking away from who I am at my core. Memories of how every attempt at clarifying myself only makes things worse, makes me worse. Flashbacks of how your one wrong decision being magnified as your entire existence seeps into the mind as an incessant urge to second guess every thought, every word, every action, every decision — till you go thoroughly numb and incapacitated.

Feeling so completely socially isolated. Abandoned. Abandoning my own self. I shuddered with the spine-chilling fear of becoming this negative, disordered mortal — what’s the word for it now? Toxic. Right?

You know what they say about hate, don’t you? Hate something or someone enough, and before you realise it, the hate takes over your entire being, and you turn into everything you hate. I was terrified that I had already turned into everything I absolutely hate in a human.

What if this is who I am now? What if I can not find my way back? What if there is no way back?

Once again, I shattered.

I hand-picked the best out of the heap, threw out the pieces I no longer wanted, crushed some in desperate frustration, and held on to every last bit of my being I still treasure. But, for the life of me, I did not understand how to put it all back together again. I kept piecing it into one whole, and every few months, weeks, days, sometimes in a few hours, a few minutes, it cracked up and fell off and crashed back into dust. It just wasn’t good enough. Nothing was good enough. I was no longer good enough.

The brain can be such an amazing double-edged sword, I tell you. It is like Gryffindor’s Sword and Dumbledore’s Phoenix stuffed together into the Sorting Hat — it can kill you and then resurrect you back to life. Or so I have come to believe.

So then, from within the tangled web of distraught self-loathing in that lonely darkness, I heard this darling brain whisper, “You do not have to be a complete silhouette. Pick as many pieces as you can hold on to for a day and live with it. One day at a time. One tiny little bit of your soul at a time.“

No questions asked I accepted the thought.

After all, I just can’t afford to — I choose to never let my mind abandon me ever again.

With time, I have come to accept this mirage of my dream self a little more every day. I find peace now in this unconditional self-acceptance above the noise of opportunistic social acknowledgement. I continue to choose this tiny spark of joy, this one fleeting moment of peace, half an instance of self-love a day.

One day at a time. One tiny spark of your soul at a time. There is always a way back. If not, definitely a way ahead, to yourself.

Be your own sunshine, love!

You are enough. Good enough.

~ faith over fear ~

P.S.: This post has been updated only as a little back story to what inspires the (un)Adulting Snippets.

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