My strengthening studio at home ✨
My strengthening studio at home ✨
Sometimes I wonder if there’s any limit to the pain I experience. Then I suddenly remember that there is only limit to the suffering around the pain and the limit is my mind. The pain is in my body. The suffering is in my mind. Everyday I wake up and choose to lessen my suffering instead of only trying to rid my body of pain which I know has reasons; of which some are beyond my understanding. Thankful to be here today, despite all the different kinds of pain in all the different joints and partly unexplained pain that we are currently investigating again. Happy weekend!
There’s been a lot on my mind lately and I’ve been thinking all this while whether these things were appropriate to be shared on my blog. These things are somewhat personal and sensitive but I remembered my very purpose of starting this blog in the first place — it was to create a safe space for me to be exactly who I am, share my experiences openly knowing that my account, while helping me make sense of my experiences and live life to the best of my ability, may even help someone else in their journey.
So keeping that in mind, I finally decided that sharing my experiencing and expressing my opinions out here is definitely worth it.
My recent move to India has brought up so many thoughts and emotions for me. For sure, some of it has to do with my childhood and leaving my home of twenty something years. However, a larger part of it has to do with my inability and struggle to make sense of how the system and culture functions out here. I agree that I grew up around lots of Indians and that I didn’t fully lose touch with my roots, but I remember very clearly and from a very young age, feeling very strongly that I don’t fit in.
Let me try and be a little more specific here.
I was seven or eight when I left India. My parents, like many other parents, were highly protective of us. Basically, I have barely any memory whatsoever about the world outside of the comfort of my home in India. Ask me about my pre-Singapore childhood experiences at home and I recollect them as if they happened yesterday. Quite frankly, I remember every painful experience inside of the four walls. Somewhere, as a very young girl, I believed that the world outside was a perfect place. You could say I was rosy-eyed; believing there was peace and love everywhere because somehow that was all I cared about. Naturally, I was naive and didn’t know enough about the actual world out there.
Then, after moving away to Singapore, India became a vacation spot we’d visit once or twice a year.Obviously by then Singapore has started to feel like home. India, to me was this place I’d visit for a limited time, meet limited people and well, say goodbye and return. It was great meeting everyone but a part of me always craved going back. Almost as if I already knew at that age that something about the environment didn’t sit well with me. Or, as I said before, I didn’t fit in.
As I grew older, that feeling got stronger. My views about my homeland started to change drastically, as if blossoming into a young woman brought along a threat I wasn’t quite aware of. While I truly enjoyed my time with family and friends in India, I got more and more uncomfortable about the culture, certain family dynamics and gender roles. As I write, I’m trying very hard to remember at least ONE holiday where something didn’t stand out for me, or that I didn’t feel threatened by some men outside family, or where I actually felt like I could connect or relate with the women I came across. There was just too much out there that made me feel terribly uncomfortable. Being a highly-sensitive child, I didn’t need to fully understand things; the vibe around a situation were good enough.
Today, twenty something years later, I’ve returned to this place again, no longer as a teenager who couldn’t entirely relate to her own culture or who felt threatened as a girl, but as a healthy-looking grown woman, confident in her individuality and her choices AND ALSO as someone suffering from a chronic illness.
For the kind of internal work I have committed myself to for a few years now (I make mistakes but I’m consciously working on myself every single day and seek guidance when needed), I have returned to India knowing very well that the transition isn’t going to be a walk in the park. That said, I find that I am open and willing to embrace this place and all that is in store. I am willing to put some of my most traumatic and painful experiences away and look at this place with a new pair of lenses.
Initially I thought the approach of camouflaging (not fitting-in, that’s different) will get me through circumstances here. You see, you don’t have to fit in, but you could just camouflage your way out, no? Not stand out too much. Watch what you say. Watch what you wear. Watch what you share on your blog. Be nice all the time with everyone. Watch your voice. Don’t react even if people are condescending towards you etc. But as the days went by, I reached a conclusion (for the millionth time) that fortunately or unfortunately, there is absolutely NOTHING camouflageable about me. Not my face, nor my body, not my personality, nor my lifestyle, not my story, nor my parents’ story…etc. etc. and that is just how it is. My life experiences, in general, are nothing less than a cultural shock to most people here. All the work I’ve done to accept myself, set healthy boundaries and evolve as a person is such a waste of time if I focus on camouflaging!
So, I stopped. I don’t want to fit in and nor do I want to camouflage my way through life here. Trying to be anything less or more than who I’ve become makes my days feel less fulfilling. Living on someone elses’ terms or expecting my story to be understood as is, both, eat into my precious energy.
To say the least, it’s been quite a challenge being a young, single, work from home (or not, if health doesn’t allow), chronically ill and pretty woman in a place like India. That whole combination somehow doesn’t seem to help. I’m award that women like me in other parts of the world struggle too but for the sake of this post, or collection of posts, I’ll be writing about my experiences here in India.
It’s been harder than I thought. You know how knowing is one thing and actually experiencing something is another? I’ve not known enough about India (from my personal stories and reading) to make informed decisions but never have I had to experience the culture the way I need to this time. I’m seeing things around me that I don’t quite like (never did) and I’m learning to respond in a way that honours my present self.
If you know me personally, you’d know that writing is extremely healing for me. It helps me process my thoughts and allows my emotions to move through my system (who wants that gunk sticking around inside anyway?) more easily. I usually write for myself, some of which I share and some I don’t.
Over the years I noticed that as I write and put things out there, I also directly and indirectly connect with people around the world. Maybe me sharing my experiences as I manoeuvre my way through this transition and issues like sexism and ableism, could potentially make someone else out there feel heard and less alone.
At the moment, the closest of my relationships consist of men — my brother, my dad, one of my best friends who is a guy and a male cousin. While they can try and understand how I feel, they cannot possibly, even if they wished, fully grasp or wrap their heads around the actual intensity. Of course, they’re around to help but certain sensitive topics require more than just that. They require being put out there. Being spoken about, often publicly too.
My closest girlfriends, on the other hand, share the same opinions as I do too but once again, being chronically ill takes things up a notch. Your environment and how things function in it affects your health to a level not understood by most.
This is going to be a step up in my journey. As I learn to own my story once again (this time in a very unfamiliar setting) show up for myself and become completely okay with not fitting in, I hope to keep my posts on here rather raw and as unedited as possible. Obviously that means if you’re expecting a level of political correctness, my posts are not for you :)
Do wait up for more posts coming in as they come in. I will only be writing if my health permits.
Lots of love,
P.S. I will even be turning off the comments section on some of the stories I share. Please feel free to reach out to me on my e-mail if need be. Should you have anything defensive to say about my stories, please remind yourself that our experiences can very well differ and neither are necessarily invalid.
I haven’t been updating my Instagram or blog much lately and I don’t feel great about it because I really haven’t been writing much. Writing, for me, has been healing. I generally write a lot, whether or not I share my writings with anyone, but I do need that time and space to just be with myself.
Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to sit with a pen and paper in my quiet sanctuary where I pour my heart and soul out onto the paper. I know for sure that as my safe space starts to come together, and as my self-care routine becomes my primary focus once again, I will spend more time writing and sharing again too.
In the last two weeks, my ability to respond appropriately to my surrounding dropped drastically. It only makes sense, given that I have been dealing with too much at once. After sitting with this thought for a while, I realised that responses were coming from a place of fear and a sense of instability.
In 2017, I was once again required to make a hard choice for (not because) the sake of my health. Nonetheless, it seemed like the right thing to do and I’ve been okay with it. However, the physical of transition became so real in the last two weeks, it started taking a toll on me. I’ve been desperately trying to put things in place quickly so that I can finally let my body rest. The fear of what would happen if this transition caused my health to deteriorate even further worried me to an extent which reflected in how I responded to things around me.
I keep reminding myself that one of my strengths is and has been in my ability to adapt to the most challenging of circumstances.Unfortunately, though, I do have a tendency to be a little harsh and less compassionate with myself. Possibly a pattern from the past.
The truth is, it is extremely natural to freak out when things are moving too fast around us. This is how I see it: Transition = change = temporary instability = temporary disruption of routine = an opportunity to create a new, more present one = ability to transform & grow.
Over next couple of weeks, my goal is to allow myself the time and space to adjust. There is no need to figure out ten things at once. Some things may require my energy and others will sort themselves out.✨
If you ever forget how strong you are, pause for a moment and look back – look at all the times you fell and stood up, not just stronger but courageous enough to try over and over again. Look back at the times you could have shut yourself to love and pain, and built a wall around your heart, but you chose to remain soft and let light in anyway. Look at the times you showed up; for people and yourself. Your story makes only a part of you, and the lessons your learn and how you evolve, make up the rest of you. Ask yourself, “how has my story changed me for the better?” If ever you doubt your strength, your ability to love, your discernment and authenticity to walk your own path, look back… look back and see how far you’ve come. It’ll make it easier to continue moving ahead if you realise how unstoppable you’ve been up till now.
#strength #soft #courage #grow #love #acceptance #life #chronicillness #relationships #chronicillnesswarrior #ehlersdanlossyndrome #hypermobility #friendship #pain #suffering #family #illness #rare #light #journey #pause #unstoppable #keepgoing #faith #trust
It’s been four years since this photo and yet I get goosebumps just thinking about where I was at, both physically and mentally.
I was falling #sick with a cold or a stomach flu every other week, reacting to medicines which were supposed to help, afraid to be alone in my own bedroom, finding it hard to eat, needing help to wash my hair and sometimes even to brush my teeth, hating on my body for being fragile and weak, struggling to protect myself from people, fighting with school because they had no policies in place for people with medical issues, crying myself to bed every night, falling asleep with a strange emptiness in my #heart, waking up to feeling suffocated, hating on my creativity because I couldn’t pursue it the way I wanted to, feeling like every day was an absolute drag… I was claustrophobic in my own #body and #mind.
I wonder if this photo says any of that.
2013 was the year I knew I was done with everyone and everything around, including myself. Something needed to shift and I didn’t know what or how. All I knew was that life couldn’t possibly feel the way it did. Despite feeling like a hostage to my own #existence, there was a glimmer of #hope, a constant knowing that nothing was going to change until I decided to step up to where #life was heading. Stepping up at that point meant pausing and for once allowing myself to let it all sink in. Nothing was going to be anything like I had once imagined and I had to come to terms with that. I couldn’t distract or push myself anymore and I felt horrible. Who thinks about pausing/stopping at 23, right?
The thing is, some of us reach a point in our lives when we are faced with circumstances so real we simply can’t look away from them. Greater things are at play and our personal plans and effort make no sense. Life keeps finding ways to force us to look at what’s being presented and leaves us with two choices – to keep #suffering by avoiding pain OR to acknowledge pain and learn to #rise from there. #trust #acceptance #health #mentalhealth #pause #rest #recover
Looking back, I suppose there were things I had in 2013 which lead me to be where I’m at today. The daily struggle and fight have definitely added to all that I have become as a person and in some ways I’m grateful for it (not for the fight but for what came out of it). Of course, gratitude seemed like the last thing on my mind at that point in time because I was in this terribly dark space. Practicing and expressing gratitude, learning to accept whole and broken parts of me and making choices that honour my health (both mental + physical) has taken time and conscious work. I still have rough days but I’ve made peace with the fact that harder days are part and parcel of learning to live with a chronic illness. Today, I know better than ever before that while life is capable of giving you 5 reasons to fear, hate, complain, it will give you at least three reasons to trust, love and grow.
Reminding myself to trust the process, accept where I’m at today which isn’t where I was or where I will be permanently, and take it one day at a time through this significantly transformative period of my life. Transitions are never comfortable but I’ve found more strength in learning to ride the waves rather than just waiting/hoping/praying to get to the other point because quite honestly, you never know how long it can take. There are always lessons to learn if you keep your heart and mind open and there is always a chance for you to let go of the old and evolve. Being here in the now and learning to respond to what is is immensely empowering. You are exactly where you need to be.