A continuing facade

"Should I continue the facade?", that is the question that is going on in my head right now. I was talking to my mom yesterday. Somehow the topic went to the amount of rape that is happening. What my mom didn't realize was that the number of people raped didn't go up recently, the number of people who are willing to report has gone up more. She was pointing out how she saw more and more cases of 4 and 5 year olds being molested. She was talking about it as if this were a new phenomenon happening only in recent years, and in particular in the US (unlike India, where she is). Little did she know that her own son was molested when he was only 5.

It was hard for me to calm myself down before I could explain to her that this might not be a new phenomenon. It also took me a lot more effort to let her know that this is not something happening only in the US. It is really detrimental that in India people don't talk about 'it' ('it' being anything related to sex, abuse or otherwise; 'it' being such a huge taboo). While I'm kinda proud to have explained all that to her without losing my temper or getting upset, I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing.

How much longer should I keep my parents in the blind? Shouldn't I be known for who I'm, instead of hiding behind a mask? At the same time, do I need to put them through the stress of this? What purpose does it serve anyways other than putting them through a lot of misery? Sure there is something to be said about voicing my inner thoughts, but I've done enough of that to my T and here (special thanks to Karma for letting me know she is listening). What if I do tell them and they don't believe me? Is it worth taking the risk?

So much to write, so little time...

Lots and lots of things have happened in between. For one, I'm actually feeling very much fine, after what feels like an eternity. Had a lot of meetings with my therapist over the last 2 months and that helped immensely. Having an open talk with א face to face helped too. Had a bad rift in one of my close friendships... hoping it would be patched. But, I'm probably too distracted from personal life to even fathom the depths of this damage. On that note, I'm deeply touched and honored by Karma's "The Colors of Friendship Award". Thank you Karma!

Oh, and I'm going to be starting a new (mindfulness) meditation practice starting next week. There is a new group that is starting next week near my lab. That should be good. Since this through the school, I think it would be even nicer. I intend to be one of the regulars there. :-)

Bottom line, it is all good!

Pumpkin carving

Yesterday was fun. I was invited to a pumpkin carving party. I was a bit depressed initially. But, it turned out fun after I started carving. I forgot how much fun it was to do things with my hands (other than working on a computer). There is something about doing things by hand. I wonder why it feels nice to do "manual" labor. It was nice to get out of my house and from myself and be out there, enjoying myself. I've a friend to thank for inviting me over. It was a welcome change from the week of panic attacks. I should look up why doing stuff with my hands makes me feel better (at least this one time). I'm thinking I should take up sculpting or something lol!

Friendship

"Who is my best friend?", I ask myself. Right now I don't have one. I've friends, I've good friends and I've acquaintances. I really don't have a close friend or a best friend. What happened?

"When was the last time I had a best friend?", I ask myself. The answer is... when I was 14. Immediately before I met the "bag guy", my favorite molester in the whole damn world! Since then, I had no friends in high school, 2 very good friends during my undergrad and 1 good friend during my masters. During my PhD, I've made 2 good friends who moved out of town. Another good friend has been downgraded to "just a friend". I'm in the process of making another good friend. But in all, since 14, I've not made any best friends.

"What happened?", I ask myself in vain. Have I lost something here? May be the ability to trust? Perhaps the naivety to allow someone to get close? How do I find out? Does it matter to find out? Does it need to change? Did I try to make א into my best friend? Why does any of this matter?

Down again!

I'm feeling down again. I was almost fine today, until the evening. I seriously suck. Why do I keep getting stuck in this bog? Yes yes yes. I f***ing love א. She doesn't! Get on with it now. I hate myself. Why do I have to brood over this for so long? What the f*** is wrong with me? Oh yeah, thats right, I can't admit to myself that I'm a loser. I'm looking for excuses. Child molestation is as good a reason as any. I'm messed up.

So what else is new now. Nothing really. I should stop caring about it myself. Even I should be tired of listening to myself. I think my T would be too when she hears about it tomorrow. She won't show it, but she is probably tired herself. Ah well, I don't know why I'm even writing anything here today.

Blah!

Mr. Sensitive

So I'm very sensitive. Is that necessarily a bad thing? Intellectually, I know it is not. But I "feel" weak because of that. Sure it comes in handy when I'm connecting with someone, or when someone is depending on me. It actually felt great to be there for a friend today. On the flip side, why do I get so upset when someone flips me off? Or for that matter, why do I get upset today when someone says they are busy? Why did I feel blown off when א said she wouldn't call today as she is too tired?

Instead of seeing things as is, I start wondering if they did what they did to avoid me. I think Karma made a good point earlier. She said I was helping others just to make them owe me. Perhaps I do. Why else would I get worried that the whoever stood me up did it so they can avoid me and feel like a push over? This anxiety and panic reactions I have suck. I know this is not like the big one I had over the weekend. Nevertheless I feel panicky. I don't know what to do.

Somehow, I've come up with writing as a way to deal with my panic attacks. Speaking of writing, I've been journaling everyday this week. I post only a subset of them here. Who is going to want to read all my stupid ramblings anyways! But writing helped me sort out my weekend thing as possibly just a panic attack. I've an appointment with my T coming up soon. Then, I should be clarify this for myself. I'm sure it has got to do with my own low self-esteem.

Anyways, this week has been treating me well despite my low down on Saturday night/Sunday morning. My grad school work is going pretty reasonably well. I helped a friend with his computer problems. Got a phone call from a dear friend who just underwent a transplant. So, it has been very nice overall. I think I'll later on (tomorrow) add a post with excerpts from my journal on how this week has been treating me reasonably well. For my own sake, I should do this.

I've to lead the discussion during our lab meeting tomorrow... so, I should try go sleep first :)

Thanks for reading this really discordant post with a multitude of topics that are not organized very well.

Mr. Brooding

Leave it up to me to turn a wonderful day into the worst one. Today, after such a long time, I got to spend some time with א. I was again reminded how much I liked spending time with her.

When I came home, what do I do? Brood over how much I still love her. Initially I was ok, but then surprise, surprise [sarcasm]! The flood gates opened. I'm writing this unable to go back to sleep. I've been crying like a baby for the past hour over missing her.

After meeting up with her and coming back home, I pondered over what she means to me. I realized this. Since we were together (and before), I've seen a countless number of sunsets and sunrises, mountains with clouds floating in between, quiet lakes topped with thick fogs in the fall, the roaring seas and the waving oceans. I've done my share of star gazing. I've smelt a thousand smells. I've found all of them quite beautiful. But א outshines all of these. If it were the end of times, I'd rather spend my time with א than anyone else. I know it sounds utterly romantic and all. The fact is that is exactly how I feel.

So, here I'm again, going over this all over again. I'm seriously thinking about waiting for her for the rest of my life... even if it means I'll stay celibate forever. I'm really not saying this lightly. Somehow this hasn't changed for me in 2 years, so why should I expect this to change anytime soon?

Now having had these thoughts, I'm also beating myself over having these thoughts. I hate myself for being weak... for allowing someone to have this much power over me. Yes yes, it is said that I can take that back. But making this decision and sticking to it also makes me feel more strong. I know it sounds paradoxcial... and believe me it is. I'm struggling with this a lot. Ah well, life sometimes sucks. And right now, the best day in so long has become the worst day in so long. I'm, quite literally, beating myself over it.

An Island, unto itself!

Since last week, I've been depressed. After meeting with my T, I've been just 'blah'. I wanted to write... I've been trying to write, but never could really. I trailed off after the first 2 sentences. Today, after a little chit chat with a colleague about how I'm very dissociated when it comes to my memories, I found myself exhausted and ready to sleep. Five hours later, I found myself writing (with a little distraction in the background). The outpouring resulted in this poem:

Woken up from a deep slumber
I can't remember what is my dream
I can't remember what is my reality
How long did I sleep? And
How much longer will I sleep?

Memories do not exist,
Recollections end up bust,
Reminiscence collects dust.
Ruminations take me yonder,
But not much farther,
Yet I live... as a shallow creature!

What is my past?
Where is my future?
Between the two polarities
I lose my present.

Unable to stand in my yesterdays
Unable to hold on to my tomorrows
I dawdle in the between...
Lifeless, yet alive.
Floating on a barge
Within the constraints of 'now'
And 'now' alone.

I find myself, an Island
An island not just because I'm alone;
But an island in time...
With none the past,
With never a future,
Just an Island, unto itself!

Homeless

Homeless I wander,
Where was home?
A Promise of happiness,
Filled with safety,
An embrace of serenity,
That is a cradle of care,
When did I leave Home?
Where is my home, Mother?
Inter me into your bosom...
A full 6 feet under,
Keep me safe within,
For me to experience freedom
For me to feel at Home.

The above was prompted as I was thinking about my lack of memories. A blank slate from when I was 5 years old. My T thinks it is possibly due to dissociation. I'm now wondering what else is hidden in those 9 years or so that I remember very little about them.

Where is that dark side of me?

Thanks Karma for your comment. I really appreciate it.

Karma, you are right about my need to feel needed. Upon looking back, it appears that I've always been "eager to help", even at the expense of doing my own stuff. May be that is my way of feeling important/needed. But when I question fairness, I'm asking how much of a sacrifice should I make. When is it just helping and when is it a sacrifice?

If someone asks for help, I feel the urge to do it right away, dropping everything I'm doing. Instead, I could, say give them a time at which I'd be able to help. Now, this is the kind of (self-imposed) unfairness I'm questioning. Why do I do this?

Yes, there is a feeling of satisfaction from helping others. Yes, I'm the "sweet" guy. But why is this important to hear for me? Why do I have to be nice to others, sometimes even at the cost of myself? Why can't I ever say "no"?

As I pondered over these questions, other things came up. I wanted to feel needed. I feel that I need to get (the right kind of) attention. It is an issue of feeling powerful too -- others need me to do this and do that. They can't do it without me. There is also an insecurity. What if they don't like me? I dread it. I fear it. I want to be like-able and never feel unwanted.

Until now, I've been giving into this insecurity, rather than fighting it. It makes me feel wanted and happy. It is even addictive; for, there are times when I wish someone would ask me for help!

There is also a much older belief that is playing its part. Growing up, I was taught that bad things happen to bad people. So, if I had been molested, I must have been a bad person. Also, much of my memory is lost or is second hand. This makes me a lot more nervous. Given that I come from an abusive family, I always worry that I'm going to turn into them. Now, with a lot of my memories being just blank... a clean slate, whatever you want to call it, this gives me jitters. I feel that my own mind is hiding a darker side of me. I really feel anxious and panicky when I think about this. This makes me want to help even more, as if all the help I do now is going to make up for it.

This is how far I've gotten so far. May be I'll write more tomorrow.

Defining "Fairness"

I'm quite a bit confused right now. I could use your feedback.

What is fairness? What is considered fair to me? It seems that I don't have a sense for what is fair to me. Over the last week or two, I found myself "going out of my way" to help other people -- fellow grad students/friends. I used the quotes because I didn't think I was doing that, but I came to understand that others perceive it so. To me though, it was the natural (not ideal) thing to do. It seemed the right thing to put my stuff behind and do theirs. The return I got was happiness. So, was it not fair to me?

I did make the choice to overwhelm myself with helping others. Perhaps this is to make me feel important and appreciated? The truth is, it makes me feel needed. Right now, I find it very important to feel needed.

In that context, is expressing love (unrequited) not fair? I felt upset to notice how א had become 'cynical' about life. She calls it being realistic, but I perceived it as a reaction to her own situations in life. It makes me really really sad. I really wanted to be there for her even if it means sacrificing everything else in my life. I later recalled other harsh things she had said to me. Yet, I minimized those and saw how she was suffering within. Yes, she made her choices and I will not change those. But, at the same time, I want to be with her even if it means "sacrificing" a lot of other stuff in life.
Is that not fair?

How does one define fairness? Should I see the greater good, my individual gratification, instantaneous vs long term satisfaction? How do I determine if something is fair to me to not? What do I factor into it to determine the fairness?

Ha! There it is!

Finally, after such a long time, I was almost missing it. Nope, it is back again. One single simple disappointment is all it took for me to close up shop in Happyland and make my way back to Sorrowland. I'm pathetic. א and I had plans to go out today. I was very excited, especially because I've not hung out with her in a while. In my excitement, I forgot how prone she is to canceling stuff. No big surprise when the she called right after I left my lab thinking I'll make it home early to spend time with her. She canceled. I got very disappointed.

It is very pathetic that I should attach so much importance to such a silly thing and feel so much sorrow and disappointment when it didn't happen. I'm completely unable to control my automatic thoughts at this point. They seem to be thrashing and threshing any defense I try to mount. Nope, not a chance for me now. The flood gates are open. Mr. Depression is at my door now.

I'm beating myself over allowing myself to be in this place by placing as much importance as I did in this in the first place. In addition, to hating myself for getting attached, I find myself weak again and so, I'm upset about being weak as well. I missed talking to א simply after a couple of days of not talking to her. How crazy is that?

My parents were right, I can never be good at anything. Just manage something or the other. I should probably go back to focusing on grad school and shut all this up in a safe box and accept that I'd always suck in personal skills. I'd get myself depressed too easy. I shouldn't even venture into these areas of existence.

I'm off to yoga... may be that would help.

What's going on, really?

I'm starting to wonder what is really happening with me. I'm so out of my meditation practice. I have been skipping quite a few yoga classes as well. Yet, I'm feeling fine (ish), except for the occasional turmoils which last less than 5 minutes. I've not seen my therapist in more than 2 months! It makes me wonder, "what is going on, really?"

I'm worried I'm simply in denial, or keeping myself distracted. It seems very easy to be distracted with grad school noose tightening around my neck pretty tight. Am I doing what I have always done -- to immerse myself in school work to escape the brutal reality? I don't know... On the one hand, the answer is yes. On the other, I don't think I'm that person anymore. I notice my troubles, acknowledge them, mindfully accept the pain/sadness associated with it,... Face it, rather than run away from it,... Do tong len, if necessary. But I never really "sit" to mediate. I take the practice with me that's all. Despite such an utter lack of meditation and yoga (my only form of physical exercise), I haven't gotten depressed in more than a month. Yes, I have a few moments here and there, but not whole days or even half-a-day!

I've been in a similar situation several times before, albeit shorter, they never turned out to be fine; Instead, they all turned out to be the calm before the storm. While I hope that this time be different, there is an innate fear that something must go wrong, or already be wrong... it is too good to be true. I'm feeling anxious.

Mindfulness and daily life

I've been so out of touch here. Grad school is now hectic. Nevertheless, the month that passed since my last post has been mostly kind to me. I've managed to handle my stress better than before. There were repeated disappointments, but I managed to shoot down all automatic thoughts that were blaming me for every single one of them. I managed to fight depression pretty successfully. There were days when it was really tough on me (like y'day), emotionally. But I've managed to survive.

The one incident I'm particularly proud of is when I saw a sculpture in a shop with a hand over the shoulder of a person. I was stunned for a moment there, for it brought back my own memories of the hand. I caught myself right away, before I went into any strong ruminations. Somehow I gathered the courage to fight it and fend it off. And, I managed to do so only by being mindful :)

Groundlessness

Groundlessness is my word of the month.
People usually talk about being grounded, or feeling grounded. However, not much (if anything!) is in my control. Accepting and practicing this in everyday life is practicing groundlessness. To accept that anywhere I step, it is a shaky ground is not what it signifies, rather it is about not expecting a solid ground. Lofty goals yes, but hard to follow.

Groundlessness practice involves accepting reality for what it is, instead of what I want it to be. Thinking back on when I was feeling jealous, I notice I expected reciprocation. When I practice groundlessness, that expectation disappears. The goal is to do things because I want to, not because it would help or do something for someone else. It is not selfishness mind you... it is about doing what is right, what is the best I could do while remaining truthful to myself, without expecting the result.

Bear with me while I recant here a little incident from today.
I was talking to my mom on the phone today. Once again, it wasn't a happy conversation. It breaks my heart to see her suffer so much simply because she expects the world to change to her needs and wants. Yes, she might have a lot of unfulfilled wishes, but it is the expectation that they will be fulfilled that causes her so much pain. She doesn't react well to her wishes not being fulfilled. While she doesn't cry and make a big drama over every little thing, she expresses her anguish and disappointment by showing indifference to things. Asking her about any such thing pushes her over the edge and she complains about how nobody does anything for her. At the same time, she adds that she doesn't expect them to. Somehow the complaining about it negates that she is fine with it. I tried to explain that to her, but she wouldn't listen.

That is a good example of her not practicing groundlessness and me trying to get her to do so. Ironically, I, thereby, fell out of my own practice. But I realized during the conversation that I wanted her to change, even if it is for her own good, because I thought it would help her. This perception was the cause of suffering in me, when I find myself giving her the label "incorrigible". As soon as I noticed this expectation of my own, I simply dropped it. (I'm kind a proud of this.) When I did so, suddenly, I had more patience for my mom and actually listened to her. I still insisted her to try what I thought my help, without expecting her to even accept it. (she didn't, if you are curious). That was my first brush with groundlessness for today.

I find it hard and challenging to practice, at the same time, I find it very "opening". To bottom line it, practicing groundlessness is to be myself and do actions based not on expected results but based on what needs/could be done at the moment. Lets see how it takes before it goes down the drain ;-)

PS: Groundlessness is a not so uncommon Buddhist practice.

Jealousy and walk-ins

Three days ago, on Thursday, I woke up from a dream feeling jealous because in that dream my ex, א, was hanging out with someone else. While I knew it was just a dream and just my own creation, it didn't go away. I had to really fight it.

I've been thinking about it. Jealousy runs in my family... my dad, my mother, my granddad! Can I ever overcome this? That is one thought I had. On the other hand, I also saw how jealousy was my own creation... a delusion.

Of all the so called "negative" feelings like greed, hate, anger, etc, it appears to me that jealousy is the most easily justifiable and the most unreasonable.

It appears that this stems from the fact that we delude ourselves in to thinking that our favors are to be returned or that our feelings are to be reciprocated. (In this particular instance, I expect my ex to still want to be with me.) When we feel that this feeling is not reciprocated, we feel dejected or angry. But when this feeling we project, instead of being reciprocated, gets directed at someone else, we feel jealous. We expect to be the one at the receiving end. But this is our own demand that is simply unreasonable. We also find it easy to justify because as human beings we expect reciprocation. We always play a non-zero game and we don't want to give anything away for free. Especially when it comes to love, when not reciprocated and redirected, it feels a lot worse. We actually feel that we have the right to be at the receiving end. Otherwise, we feel used. Hence, it become easily justifiable.

Perhaps I find it even more justifiable, because of the many times I've been used and betrayed. So, when I'm not at the receiving end, I think I'm not just being used by that I'm being betrayed and stabbed in the back. My mom did it by using my trust to meet her lover and continue with her affair. She stabbed me right through my heart when she said that he meant more to her than me or my sister, her own kids! Add that to the fact that I was molested, sexual abused, and shamed in front of others by family members and strangers alike. I've got a monster in my head.... I think everyone is out there to use me.

I think that I walk in to those several times (self-blame, I notice as I write this). At the same time, I'm holding on to this idea/ideal that I've not let anyone close to me since my mom betrayed me, until I met א. So, I value my love for א much more than anything else. May be that is why it hurts more that she broke up with me. May be that is why I think breaking up with me would mean that she just used me... and I hate to feel that she too did me in. I don't want to think that my time with א was simply another one of my "walk-ins". It is weird logic and even I don't get it. But when is matters of heart ever rational!

May be none of this is a reason and I just want to hide behind these so I don't have to face the facts that I'm a loser.

PS: I was talking to א earlier today and she told me that she was, "just hanging out", today. Makes me place more value in my dream and hence I wrote this post.

Riding the roller coaster

I've had an interesting week. I went from being upset over how I'm still hung up on my ex to feeling fine to feeling upset to now feeling alright. In parallel, I was going through memory recalls and memory absence recall. I was reliving my trauma for a day or two. Had a wonderful cooking day for a pot luck dinner. Went to a vegetarians group and made friends. I had a talk with my ex where she expressed her stand and I mine. After that I felt completely fine. We went for a bike ride the next day, without me having to face any pain.

Come today, I was feeling the painful pangs again. I let it be just pain as best as I could, just being mindful of it. Some of it got translated to suffering. But being mindful actually helped a bit. The bigger help, I think came from this: After a long time, I actually felt comfortable and satisfied when talking to my family today. Unfortunately though, I'm feeling apprehensive about my grandma. Somehow, I get the sense that she is preparing herself for her approaching death. It is a bit disturbing. When talking to her, I felt as if her life was slowly ebbing away. I don't know what to make of it. She was still funny, cogent and fun to talk to as always. Yet there was a certain spark that felt dimmer.

Later today, I went to, what I consider, my foster family here. They took me to dinner and then to a neighborhood fest here. It was fun. I was thinking about my ex when I saw a stall selling dragons. When I got back to my apartment building, I saw her entering as well. Turns out she also went to the same neighborhood fest and she too had thought about me when she was by the same stall! :-) Makes me feel happy and removed at the same time.

On the whole, despite the vin rouge, I'm feeling fine today. I say despite because I usually feel reticent, if not depressed, after some ethanol in my blood.

Second-hand self-memories

Today I've regressed back into my physical twitches. The same ones I get when I'm thinking about my abuse incidents. I even jumped (scared and anxious) when I saw this scene on TV, where a hand taps another person's shoulder from behind.

Later, I was watching a movie that was talking about memories of youth. It made me think back on my own memories. All my memories until a few years ago appear to be rather vague or abrupt. Most of those memories from my school and undergraduate days appear to be of a second hand nature. I am unable to recall them as my personal memories. Instead, they seem to be memories created by someone telling me what happened or how it happened. The memories are mine, yet not mine own. It feels very empty. It has the same feeling as making memories of watching a movie from a friend giving me a movie review as if I were there! Nothing in that feels tangible. I do not know why... I don't understand this.

There are exceptions to this. Most of them are "negative" memories. A few are neutral (the earliest one from when I was 2½ years old). A handful are even positive. In fact, I seem to have forgotten even those things that happened when I went to my parent's home last year. Yet, everything I did with א seems very vivid and fresh in my memory. I'm not sure what to make of this. It doesn't make me feel comfortable though, especially when I start speculating about what else I might have forgotten! I find it challenging to stay mindful of this without getting attached.

Anyways, I was wondering if any of you have "second-hand self-memories" like I do? I'd appreciate hearing from you.

Feeling used

Why do I do this to myself? I'm depressed again. I've been hanging out with א, my ex, recently. It is hard to believe that I still want to be with her, she has moved on. She initiated this contact, but I'm the one who is reeling in pain.

I still harbor hopes of getting back together again. She seemed receptive initially, hesitant but receptive. After a week she started withdrawing. I wanted to kiss her once. But she stopped me, saying she was in a crazy place. I respected that and left it at that. I let her call me after that and she did. We have been hanging out after that.

Last Thursday, I felt the butterflies in my stomach again; The same ones I felt when I first started going out with her. Once again I could not concentrate on work. I had the pleasurable butterflies in my stomach to deal with. At that point I knew again that I loved her, still!
I simply cannot get over it. I do not understand why I'm grasping at her this much. I've never before obsessed over anything this much. Even those things I was obsessed over, I was able to let go much more easily. Heck, I do not lose myself like this even when I think about any of my molesters!

א was my first one and only one I dared enough to open up and go out with. When we broke up the first time, I was hoping to get back with her. When we broke up the second time, I thought I was doing better because I started letting her go. But now I'm back there. I am unable to not feel the passion for her. I even tried "letting" it be. But my feelings for her are overwhelming at times, like it is now. She canceled on me today because of rain. We were planning on going for a bike ride. But I was hoping we could instead go for dinner due to the rain. Perhaps she doesn't want to hang out with me, other than for biking. It makes me wonder if I'm simply being used? Am I?

Something I read over the week triggered a chain of thoughts for me. Growing up in an abusive environment, I've always done what pleases others. Perhaps, in doing so, I got something I wanted. May be I'm trying to please א and trying to get something in return from her... and I find it impossible. Is this it... a "need to please"? Is that why I'm feeling "used" by א when she hangs out only when she wants something and not when I want something? Hmm, my thoughts go back to one of my earlier posts: Actions and expectations. It is my expectation of the result that is causing this suffering I'm now experiencing. That is perhaps what I need to let go.

Practicing tong len

To let it be. My friend told me his word of the month was "let". Now, I'm hooked on to it. Let suffering be suffering, to let pain be pain, to let grasping be grasping. In doing so, I'm simply labeling them for what they are without judgment, I find. While it is challenging, I also notice that it increases my awareness of what things are.

Today, I noticed how much suffering was there around me. Sometimes I'm so focussed on my own suffering that I miss those of others around me. Today was a day when the reverse happened. I noticed the joy, the pain, the confusion and the sadness in people around me. I was touched by the state of two people in particular.
One is a colleague. I noticed in his eyes a lot of sadness, over what I do not know. I inquired about how he was doing. Not knowing if should push it any further, and how I should do it, I didn't push any further. I simply did some tong len for him.
The second is a neighborhood friend I practiced meditation with today; the same one I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Despite the fact that he is in a lot of pain and suffering, he has an amazingly positive attitude. Hanging out with him gave a lot of confidence in myself fro some reason. Also, it made me feel so much more blessed and damn lucky; for my health is a luxury compared to his.

I was at the Dalai Lama's talk recently. He talked about biased and unbiased compassion; the former based on actions and the latter based on the person. I thought it was a pretty good way of expressing it. The compassion I had expressed today might be partially biased. But there is the slightest possibility that they were unbiased. That makes me feel better. I've been trying to be more patient and compassionate recently. Perhaps my efforts are in the right direction. It feels fulfilling when I just do something out of compassion, without expecting anything in return. But, I'm worried about letting myself be abused by my own new found enthusiasm for compassion. I'm known to do that.... I should keep an eye on to catch these patterns early before they excalate into something bigger.

Low self-image

I went to my T last week. I couldn't take it anymore. I was not able to sit with my depression. I was too embarrassed to talk at all. But, it was good in some ways to see how I was holding on to some old, very old patterns. I find it hard still to let go of some of the embarrassment associated with my own body--my self-image.

I get angry thinking about it. I get angry at (one of) my molester(s). I had felt anger before, not at him, but as a more generic anger directed towards the injustice, the society that led to such injustice and so on. I somehow didn't direct my anger at him. I saw him only as a product of the society and didn't blame him. But since last week, I'm angry at him. For screwing my life up, for screwing the life of the other kids,... for making me ashamed of my own body. The onus of the body image factor might be on me, but the initial direction was misguided.

Once an arrow leaves the bow, it is not easy to turn its direction. That is what is going on with my self-image. It has been reinforced by several other incidents. Sadly, I didn't realize the automatic thoughts in this process, until last week. Instead, I had used my issues with self-image to chastise myself even further, only leading to a recursive deprecation of self-image.

I'm now trying to school myself to build it again, rather erase the old patterns and lay the foundation for a new healthier one. If it is like anything else I've faced already, it is going to be a long and bumpy road with more pain than I would perhaps like. Hopefully, I'll have the courage to continue down this road, to make at least some progress. It does give me a hint of hope to know that others have made it beyond this point... hopefully, I'll make it too.

Actions and expectations

I learnt a lesson from my own words today. I was writing a post on karma theory today. I was interpreting one of the famous lines from the Bhagavad Gita, "karmaNye vaadhikaraste..."

My own interpretation of the line is, "Do your actions, not based on the expected results". It is easier said than done, of course. But, writing about it made me realize that I was not doing as I was saying. I was expecting certain results and doing things accordingly. I was doing things without being aware of my own expectations on the results. This led me to feel disappointed, sad, and even depressed that despite all my efforts the results weren't as I expected them to be.

As I thought more about it, I realized what unconditional love meant... to do what I'd want to do, irrrespective of whether or not it is reciprocated. It is has to come from within, out of a choice to do what I really want to do, whether or not the results turn out to be as we expect it to be.

As I write this, I also realize that my interpretation is more akin to the Buddhist interpretation rather than a Hindu interpretation (in practice).

Freaking out at intimacy

I was watching an episode (Florida) of Law and Order: SVU (Special Victims Unit) today. Towards the end, there was a scene that struck a chord with me and my life; rather, my own experience. There is a dramatic stand-off where Benson, the lead female protagonist in the show, explains how when a girl is kissed by a boy, she doesn't freak out. Later she explores the possibility that the girl was molested as a child.

This reminded me of myself freaking out when I kissed for the first time. I was confused. It was exciting for the most part and intimidating at the same time. It was more so when the girl I was dating wanted to have sex. I totally freaked out and I could not and did not go on with it. It still worries me that I might never be able to overcome it.

I presume some of you had similar experiences. I'd like to hear what your reaction was.

Dad and his love

I've been thinking about my dad lately. It was only recently that I heard him cry. I know he as cried before, and I vaguely remember once about 15 years ago when my grandma died. But never since then or before then. The way my relationship with him has changed over the past year, rather since I visited home in August last year has been really... fruitful is not quite the word, neither is revealing. Once again, I'm stumped by the lack of appropriate words for the emotions I'm going through.

I've been talking to by T about this. All my life I've been trying not to become my dad at many levels. Now suddenly, I've started seeing him as a complex person rather than as simply the person I don't want to turn into. But today, I realized something beyond that.

For the first time, I realized how he never really expressed his love in an understandable... well what I'm saying is that he never communicated his love for us very well. I now see that he really cared about us very much, he just didn't know how to show it. Perhaps I'm being too generous, but I genuinely felt it today. When I look back on it, I recall him being very frustrated when we didn't understand his love. All we saw was his frustration and his anger resulting from it. Nothing more. At least I didn't see anything more.

Today, I felt sorry for him and connected with him somehow. He did what he thought was best for us, which wasn't always best. He always did things out of love, but when not appreciated for it, he got really angry, but may be he didn't know why he even got angry for. He tried to tell us he loved us, but saying it is very different from showing it in action.

Once again, I don't want to end up like my dad; only, this time it is for a different reason, an entirely different reason.

Empathy

I felt transported to about 9 months ago, when I was brooding over things. This time it was different. First it was short-lived. Second, I felt it in a different way, very very different. It is hard to put it into words. But I felt the suffering not of my own but of the other. I could feel the sadness dripping in the atmosphere of the other. Yes, it is possible that it is my own misinterpretation, but I do not think it is. Nevertheless, this has left me deeply touched. Somehow I find this to be an eye,... no heart opening experience.

There is so much suffering in the world. I've been too very focussed on mine alone that I've failed to look at others. No, I don't mean that I've been so self absorbed that I've not noticed any of the suffering around me. I actually "felt" it this time. It was as if the distinction between me and the rest of the world simply disappeared. Thus, I felt their pain as if it were mine own.

I don't know where I'm going with this, but I found it pretty interesting to note that feeling of empathy rather than sympathy.

Child abuse in India

I saw this BBC news article entitled, Abuse of Indian children 'common'. First I thought they were talking about physical abuse. I know that physical (and emotional) abuse happens in nearly all of 100% of the families in India. Yes, this is going to sound like I'm stereotyping, but this is my experience as it is the experience of many of my Indian friends. Physical abuse is also common in school. I would not be exaggerating in stating that physical abuse is pretty much the norm.

Now, the surprise in the article is this:

Commissioned by the Ministry of Women and Child Development, the study says 53% of the surveyed children reported one or more forms of sexual abuse.

That is huge! More than 1 in 2 kids! That is f****** disgusting. I f******* hate India for being what it is, for being so slow in even admitting it. I'm angry at every one of them hypocrites, and there is a damned huge lot in India, who do not even acknowledge that such things can happen.

In India there's a tradition of denying child abuse. It doesn't happen here is what we normally say. But by remaining silent, we have aided and abetted the abuse of children.

Fuck yeah! We are complete idiots to not see this happen. People who are not conscious of the dangers kids could be exposed to should not be allowed to have kids... heck neuter them! Yes, I'm angry, big time angry.
Reminding myself that sexual abuse is almost always under reported only makes me feel even more angry.

How is this for a statistic that came out of this government funded study:

Two out of every three children in India are physically abused, according to a landmark government study.

Am I the only one who finds anything wrong with this statistic. How is that if 1 in 2 kids are sexually abused, only 2 in 3 kids physcially abused? Where do they come up with these numbers that seem obviously flawed? More fuel to the fire!

They did get one thing right:

a disturbing finding of the study had been that 70% had not reported the abuse to anyone.

Yeah, try reporting that yourself in a society that denies such things ever happen. We consider ourselves morally superior that we refuse to look at our own dirt. The entire country is full of self-righteous snobs who live in self-denial.

I need to lay-off of writing now to cool off... may be I'll try to write when I'm a bit more cool headed.

I lied... to myself

Yes, I lied in my last post...

After my last post, I was worried. I wondered if I started having my friends from ester while -- suicidal thoughts -- come back again. I hated to admit that possibility and lied to myself about it.
It was easier that way.

At the time of my last post, I was contemplating death, much more than simple suicide. I wasn't wondering about how I would die... there wasn't any plan, just death. This was different from all the previous times I've imagined suicide, because for the first time, I thought about how my body would look like after death and so on. I saw a poetic beauty in the destruction of my dead body. It scared me then and it does a little now.

I think I know what lead me to my previous post... it broke me to know that I had mislead myself on more than one occasion. I didn't want to see what was obvious, only to feel betrayed and victimized at the end. I was not able to trust myself. I don't know if I can still. My own ineptitude towards seeing the most obvious has happened too many times... too many times. I can't allow that to happen again. I don't want to. I don't want to be victimized again. I know I have to risk the possibility in order to not become a victim, but it is too damn scary and I don't want to admit it. I don't know how I mustered the courage to even write this here.

At times I think it is not a lack of awareness, but a willful acceptance. In other words, I lie to myself about things being different from what I see them to be, I think. I hope that is what it is... otherwise I must be a moron to not see the obvious... ah well, I don't know myself anymore.

Despite all that mistrust, I somehow know I want to live rather than die; not by suicide at least. I don't know why I should cling on to life that much, but I do.

Today is a good day to die

This is a bit dark... but to let you know ahead of time, this is not a suicide note. I plan to live, at least for now. This is something that simply came up as I encountered today's weather on the outside and on the inside. Inspired by this inclement weather, I wanted to write... and here it is.

The foggy day, that is today, looks inviting. The mystery of the fog carries... nay, hides within the pain; Perhaps if I die today, the shame would be shrouded by the mist that surrounds. I would not have to be rejected again. I will not have to feel the scorching of the fear of rejection again. I will not have relive my rejection again. I shall not have to hate myself for being who I am and who I'm not. Today is a good day to leave it all behind. Today is a good day to let my body shrivel, there... right there on the grass, arms outstretched, palms facing up, ankles falling to the floor with feet wide. The pain disappears as my vision clouds, the fears melt as the sounds move distant; only the smell of fresh grass to hold me up. The dampness in the air caresses my face.
There, I feel that water drop settle high on my nose. Slowly, ever so slowly my eyes close, the water drop starts to roll. It rolls towards the bridge of my nose... an invisible hand pushes it to the right side of my nose... it pretends to be a tear and rolls of my cheek. The final tear that would ever be. Did it know there will be none other? Did it know about the lush green grass leaf investigating my ear? What is it looking for anyways? Does is it know there is lots of time to examine, time enough for it to grow up and die, right next to my shrivelled body? Does it know today is a good day to die?

Abusive relationship

For the past few months, I've been munching on something in my head. This is not about my childhood abuse. This is about a relationship, which I feel (only now), might have been abusive after all! It has gotten old. Yet, it still evokes something very powerfully emotional. When I ruminate upon this particular topic, I feel my ego bruised, no shattered. Other times I feel angry. Mostly though, it leaves me bereaved. It feels like I've been stabbed repeatedly not just in my back, but right into my heart. All I could do was painfully watch it happen. The part that worries me the most is that I saw this particular relationship to be "divine", something that made me feel better about myself, instead of being abusive.

It bothers me that I let such a thing continue on for as long as I did. First, I didn't see it. Then, I did recognize that it was not fulfilling for me. But, I kept blaming myself for that too. I thought I was asking for too much and kept blaming myself. Here comes the worst part... after it ended, I felt miserable. I was back to blaming myself again! I didn't see it as abusive or unhealthy at all. Even to this day, I've to repeat to myself that it was emotionally abusive. That brings me to this burning question.

How can I trust any relationship I have established before, have now or make in the future will not be abusive, if I don't even recognize it?

Living alive

I reveal the blog behind this face to a friend today. I was scared quite a lot initially. Surprisingly, it went very well. As my T says, it feels good to have a witness.

A face thus far blocked;
Today it was revealed.
The sun lit the sky,
And this face beneath it.
In clear light, I'm bathed,
No shades anywhere,
But nothing to hide.
Nowhere, nay, no need to run.
Yes, my feet can stand,
Face lifted, and shoulders broad.
The obsidian glass has melted away,
Everything is out in the open.
In their nakedness they revel,
And I proceed to live alive.

Why Buddhism?

People have come up with several possible reasons as to why I embraced Buddhism recently. Mostly, it is wondering what I find in it that is different from Hinduism. I'm going to try and address this here below.

My spiritual practice involves mainly mindfulness meditation. While this has got nothing to do with any particular religion, per se, the philosophical theories associated with Buddhism in connection to meditation are the one that speak to my heart. Hinduism as it is practiced does not appeal to me much. In its current form, there is too much attachment to external rituals. While I'm not against rituals, having rituals simply for the sake of having them is not something I'm interested in anymore. I feel their meanings have been lost.

The philosophy of Buddhism appeals to me. Sure, it might have stemmed from Hinduism, but it has developed far beyond it. There are plenty of similarities. However, the main difference between the two (as they are practiced), in my humble opinion, is that Hinduism believes that we are responsible for whatever happens to us. Buddhism on the other hand believes that things just happen, but it is up to us to make it whatever we want to make out of it.

Hinduism is very fatalistic in that sense and there is a strong sense of pre-determinism (our current status depends on what we did in our previous life and the ones before that). This leads to a certain callousness and "willful ignorance" of responsibility for one's actions; for everything is perceived as proceeding in accordance to fate "as it should be". I know this sounds a bit contradictory. As a Hindu I'm to do my actions according to what is the dharma and leave the results to God. Somehow this translates into people's actions performed with seemingly no personal responsibility. While Buddhism doesn't entirely exclude pre-determinism, it very strongly acknowledges our own responsibility to our lives irrespective of a Superior Being. Furthermore it states that NOW is all we have to work with.

It is that very aspect that appeals to me the most. Hinduism makes me see my own broken childhood as a reflection of my evil deeds (from a "past life", whatever that means). Meaning, it is my own fault that it happened. Every time it happened I was to blame, not only for this life's actions but also for my actions in all my previous lives as well.

Buddhism on the other hand allows me to accept that it happened. It doesn't explicitly blame me for it. Yes, I know the previous statement might be contested. But, at least it allows me to work with it in the present. It doesn't assign blame on myself or anyone for it. In other words, Buddhism allows me to say, "Shit happens. I feel it is shit only because I perceive it to be so".

NO, I'm DEFINITELY NOT saying what happened to me or the so many other people out there was acceptable. It was terribly wrong.
What I'm saying is two things:

1. Shit happens. It happened. I 100% acknowledge that it happened and that it was possibly the most terrible thing that could happen to anyone. I would never wish this on anyone... not even the ones who did it to me.


2. I feel it is shit only because I perceive it to be so. It is not happening now. It did in the past and it can stay in the past. I do not have to react to all things in life as if they were all threats to my immediate person. I can be myself instead of reacting like a person tainted by his past. In other words, shit happened in the past, I don't have to perceive shit in everything now.

Indeed my basic instinct is to protect myself from any perceived threat by building walls of defense. I've found that instead by opening up and exposing the tenderness (ONLY if and when I'm feeling up for it) is quite paradoxically healing.

This is what I see in Buddhism's philosophy. Instead of praying or denying pain, Buddhism seeks to accept pain as a part of life. (Note: This is neither nihilistic nor masochistic and there are plenty of books to explain it better than I could.) Buddhism allows me to accept the pain, accept the sadness, accept the fear, even accept feelings of self-guilt and shame, without turning any of them into suffering. I acknowledge the feelings without denying them attention. At the same time, in doing so, I notice and label them for what they are instead of allowing them to make my head spin out of control.

So, taking refuge to me is a formal acceptance of my striving to be truthful to myself, accept impermanence in life, welcome both good and bad equally instead of favoring one over the other... In other words, by taking this refuge vow, I promise to myself to be "hopeless and confident" as Pema Chödron so elegantly puts it. Hopeless not as in derelict, but as in non-expecting things to happen one way or another.

So, am I Buddhist? Yes. Am I no longer a Hindu? No. I incorporate practices from both into my life. It is not my intention to simply abandon Hinduism. It is simply to find my own niche and accept who I'm... a HiBu. :-)

Depression & Refuge vow!

It is official now, I'm now a Buddhist. The ceremony was simple and elegant. Got a cool name. It is a big step for me. To me this is as much about acknowledging my practice as it is about accepting who I am and being truthful to myself.

The day started with me brooding again. I wasn't terribly happy about it. I had to really take a stand and fight the loneliness and that feeling of rejection. I was nearly going into depression again. I stood at the bus stop and listed how I felt to myself. The words were mostly "negative". Eventually, I settled into breathing deeply and doing a body scan. My heart felt (and still feels) enshrined in a dark, shiny-black metal sheath. It feels rather heavy.

I know I should be proud of the name chosen for me during the refuge vow. But it feels more like it is what it is. I'm off to bed now, feeling all alone once again! Perhaps I should somehow learn to accept that I'm and I'll always me alone... seek company in Loneliness. I only wish it would not turn into one of those cry-myself-to-sleep days.

Fighting Depression

Today, I started off with quite a depressing mood. I didn't know the reason. I simply woke up depressed. I started wondering if was to do my upcoming Refuge Vow ceremony. I didn't think it was. But then may be I'm anxious, worried and perhaps even scared of it subconsciously. Then, I thought may be it was to do with א; honestly, that was only a scapegoat. Then I was in the shower wondering about my dreams, searching for a possible answer there. Then I found it.

Part of my dream related to the upcoming Refuge Vow. It involved me 'leaving home'. There was a sadness to it but no suffering. Pain, but no suffering.
The other part of the dream involved some random guy reaching for my right shoulder. I pushed him away, rather forcefully, asking him never to do that again. That was what was causing the unrest in me.

Noting that however, didn't really help me all that much at first. However, I had an inspiration while still in the shower. I realized I have the power to stop this depression from become seriously depressing! I tried, intellectually, addressing it -- saying that it was all in the past and that I was in the shower then. But it didn't help. I thought perhaps meditating would help. But I found myself too disturbed to even be mindful of it, noting the emotions as they arise. While I tried that, it didn't help. So, it ruled out sitting meditation.

Then it struck me -- body scan, like my T had told me. That helped me bring my attention back to my body. Feeling a heavy heart. Wow, my heart is reliving it as I'm writing this. Once I noticed that, I went into a deep breathing almost naturally. I had to leave my house at that point, but I kept my attention on my breath. It is amazing how such a simple thing as the breath could help me bring me back to the present.

After about 20 minutes of paying attention to my breath, while focusing on that tightness and heaviness in my heart, I was completely out of depression! Amazing. I've never done this before. I'm so proud of myself to have fought and WON before my depression could take me over. Again, I'm happy and proud.

Mindfulness & yoga

I've been holding off on this post for a while. But, reminiscing over the past two years and going over some of my yester-year journals over the last weekend, combined with my own online "research" in the last 2 weeks, along with my upcoming Refuge Vow ceremony (to officially become Buddhist) have lead me here... to this post.

In the past 2 weeks I've dared to explore more on child abuse stuff online than I've before. In the process, I came across Dr. Jim Hopper's website where he talks about Mindfulness and Child abuse. He pays his respects to Jon Kabat-Zinn and expands further upon that. I was reading his article, co-authored with Amy Schmidt, entitled "Mindfulness, An Inner Resource for Recovery from Child Abuse". I came across this,

"...Practicing bringing your attention to whatever arises in the present moment, and noticing it without judgment, makes you much more likely to notice positive experiences and emotions and much less likely to judge or dismiss them. Particularly when your mind is moving more slowly, and is relatively spacious, positive feelings have an opportunity to grow, last longer and lead to other positive feelings. And many positive emotions, particularly feelings of appreciation, kindness and love, help to enhance the mind's calmness."

This is very true. In fact, this was one of the exercises my T gave me when I started out on therapy. I remember even downloading a Palm program (moodylog) to log my emotional states all through the day, whenever I can. The point wasn't to judge the emotion, just to notice and potentially label them.

When I first tried this, I noticed only sadness, fear, shame, self-effacing hatred, self-ridicule, embarrassment, sorrow, desperation and a respite in the guise of numbness and depression. However, within 2 or 3 days, I started noticing glimpses of neutrality and even elation. These days, I've come to realize that it is mostly the other way around -- I'm mostly feeling neutral with a sprinkling of sadness, fear, shame, self-guilt and anger. I even see elation quite a lot. I'm more often than not coming to terms with just noticing, labeling and letting go... simply being mindful of them without getting caught up in them. This, as Dr. Hopper says, enhances my mind's calmness. For this, I'm unabashedly grateful to my T.

That said, mindfulness is a skill that involves patience and perseverance; and it can also cause a lot of pain sometimes. That is where yoga is helpful. For some reason, it is easier to be mindful when I'm in motion as in yoga. I'm noticing my bodily sensation very acutely and my own mind is attuned to emotions much better. It is as if someone put an amplifier for these and somehow filtered out all other noises. That is not to say that the mind doesn't chatter. It definitely does, but it is easier to notice, label and let go.

Perhaps by doing yoga, I'm able to "feel" my body more than I'm able to otherwise. Perhaps I'm able to tune to my body, rather than disconnect from it. The latter being the strategy I've taken since... well, since whatever happened.

Journey to nowhere...

I woke up today with this poem right off the bed. Pretty much set the tone for today. But I took it well. Nevertheless, I still felt rejected and isolated. It takes a lot to remind myself that I'm not alone.

Ego bruised
Self-esteem sullied
Pride dented
A society's reject continues...

Stories to forget
Memories to regret
Pains that upset
A society's reject continues...

Shame persists
Reactions indelible
Emotions unintelligible
A society's reject continues...

Restitution hides
Truth lies
Justice desists
A society's reject continues...

Respite sulks
Relief balks
Nightmares run amok
A society's reject continues...

Days push on
Years pass on
Silence goes on
A society's reject continues...

Forever and forever,
A society's reject continues...
on this journey to nowhere.

Being mindful of "the hand"

During my mindfulness meditation today, I kept going back to the imagery... the hand reaching across the chest. It kept me a bit jumpy. I kept coming back to the breath. But this was interesting because I do not remember having any trigger, none at all. I suppose I know where I'm stuck right now. It was so hard not to move. I literally had to twitch, however hard I tried to simply be mindful of it. At least it came from the fact that I noticed it and "allowed" it to happen, rather than simply react to the feeling without even me noticing it. Feels good to notice the improvement.

Epiphany of Hope

A storm passed,
Veils lifted,
Glare thwarted,

Apparition disappears,
Cloud clears,
Gloom veers,

The wall is broken,
The shell is cracked open,
Melancholy... it's forsaken,

The shadows are slain,
The pains abstain,
Tears refrain,

Hope...
It shows up!

Dissociation?

The weekend was good. Starting Sunday, I've been feeling really good. I'm just fine, accepting myself. I'm very much at peace with myself. It is kinda cool. But here is the dissociation part. It is a bit scary.
Somewhere during the weekend, I started thinking that it was April already. I didn't realize it until I heard back from a friend, a friend I had wished a happy birthday for (thinking it was April). It still feels a lot like April. I do not understand why or how this happened.

The nearest to an explanation I have is that there is the Chinese new year. Perhaps I somehow jumped to the Tamil New year from there.... I don't know. Has this happened to anyone else?

Just keep moving!

Yesterday night was tough. I realized that it wasn't about א as much as it was about what א represented -- my failure. Yes it is a let down I need to work on. But it was important to notice it.

As an abuse survivor, I had hoped to be more sensitive to other people's needs and feelings. I see א as a reflection of a lack of just that. I also wonder if I could ever be... in short, I feel myself as unworthy, undeserving and supremely guilty. I found myself in the middle of this quagmire yesterday evening. I sat with it, for a while.

Soon, I started losing sleep. I woke up. This time my focus was different. I was recalling images. I got angry that he screwed up my life. It was because of him that I couldn't be "normal". Perhaps if it had not happened, I would have been better with א. Then came all the may-bes and what-ifs. Before I knew, I was very angry and deeply saddened. I started crying, wondering if I'll ever be able to get out of the grave that has been dug for me.

A sleep and hours of work later, I'm back here, writing. But from a better place. I know I'm getting better at handling all this. The trick I guess is to simply keep moving, even if it is from one depression to another. Just keep moving.

Feeling accepted

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday. When we happen to broach the subject of child abuse, she started by saying, "What happened to you was wrong, very wrong". I noted how fulfilling it was to hear that. No, it wasn't the usual, "I don't believe it happened", expressing astonishment. It wasn't a, "I believe you", which while way better than the former, still feels empty. It is the strongest acknowledgment I could ever ask for.

By uttering those words, she not only acknowledged that I had gone through it, but also recognized that injustice was done. I doubt I would have done the same in her place. It takes a lot of maturity and understanding that goes beyond one's own experience. She bridged that gap. That makes me appreciate her friendship a lot more. Most of all, it makes me trust her even more.

As for today, I'm still feeling tired from yesterday's EMDR. There are emotional swells that bring me to the verge of crying. So far, I've tried to be in the moment.

EMDR

I had a very powerful session of EMDR today. I was moved way more than I've ever been previously. It was sad to see how my trauma had spilled over and affected a wide gamut of things. I was dismayed, in particular, by the effect it had had on my relationship with א. Ah well, it is what it is.

This EMDR filled up quite a lot of my somatic memories and I couldn't help but wonder at how long and how deep it had been buried. It had been burnt in to me, deeper than anything I know. I call myself, "stupid" -- but really meaning, "ashamed of myself". That is what I told my T. Upon more reflection, I suspect it ends there. There is an additional feeling of me being "unworthy". I'm still amazed EMDR works. It is such an abstract procedure that evokes quite interesting feelings. I'm also fascinated by how it fills in the gaps in memories. It is quite amazing in fact, especially considering that it started out practically like a free association. I wonder if this experience is common among others who have had EMDR .

Another thing with EMDR is that I find it so tiring, every single time. I feel today was the worst. I could NOT relax my muscles at all! I was so hard for me to let go. Man, I'm so exhausted from all that muscle contraction. Nevertheless, I made myself go to yoga. It was even more exhausting. I had to take breaks and go into child pose quite frequently. I'm beat now.

Yes, the world just inverted itself.

This is my first poem in nearly 1.5 years.

The sun filters through,
Not from the roof, or the window,
But off the floor,
Yes, the world just inverted itself.

The shutter pulled down,
The window closed with doors,
The curtain pulled in between,
A darkness descended in the afternoon,
Yes, the world just inverted itself.

No clouds to cover the sun,
No moisture to make clouds,
No water to make moisture,
Only me, to make tears,
Yes, the world just inverted itself.

The sun is too bright,
The glare is unbearable,
There is too much exposure,
The reliving continues...
Yes, the world just inverted itself.

Sun's glare in my eyes

I'm not feeling very good today. I feel the need to isolate myself. I want to avoid all social contexts. I don't feel like eating right. I need chocolate. In other words, I'm depressed.

I woke up, not feeling very good. Didn't feel like going to yoga. I got myself there anyways, knowing that I usually feel better after yoga. As the class started, the sun glared in my eyes, reflecting off the snow outside the room. Reminded me of things. I couldn't do yoga as I usually am able to. I simply wanted to go back home and brood. I wanted to cry. I stuck with it and finished the class. Got home and haven't done anything productive since then. I wonder how others deal with it when they get their triggers.

I can't write any further... but I'm going to try and write my story this weekend, for my own sake.

Disturbing

I saw this on ABC last Friday. I couldn't watch the whole think. Here they follow the suicide note of a guy who was sexually abused as a kid by a lot of people including his own mother. This is really really disturbing. It is called Revenge Against Religious Sect. It is sad that the kid had to kill himself. Having seen the documentary, although only partially, it makes me feel all the more better about myself for not having to have gone through all that. Perhaps "feel all the more blessed" is the right way to say it. I'm not sure.

It stimulates feelings of anger and frustration in me. Not revenge, for I see even the predators as simply "messed up". I really pity them sometimes. No, I cannot forgive them for what they do, but I can still feel sorry for them. What if it were just a chemical imbalance and they are truly just helpless inside? I mean, depression is sometimes simply a chemical imbalance, so are a lot of mental disorders. What if the predator is only one side of a multiple personality disorder? I suppose I'm thinking in terms of Dr. Jekyll and Hyde. What if? Does it then make it right to punish them? Or, should we as a society help them?

Does pressing charges really help? Shouldn't we be spending more time in educating, meaning dealing with them for real, instead of simply hiding and isolating them away from the society? Is this really justice? I'm not saying pressing charges is unjust. Wouldn't it be better to have one predator turned to the other side and have them fight against others? Is jail term the best way to do this? Could we use their guilt (if they have it) to do something more productive? We have to remember everything that there is, is both good and bad. All of life is a two edged sword. Perhaps it is important to point both edges away from us instead of simply hiding one edge and pretending it is a one-sided sword. That can be a dangerous game to play.

Second chance

As I was sitting in meditation today, I realized one thing.

Every day I wake up, I'm having a second chance at life.

How cool is that!!! I'm having a second chance right now. Not many people have that option. In my life, I'm having a second chance right now. Every minute is another opportunity. How silly would I be if I didn't take hold of it?

As the day went along, I tried letting my mind wander into things I need to think about. It is not easy to think about, because it is not solid to hold on anymore. The mind simply doesn't want to latch on. Nevertheless, as I tried, it came to me (influenced by something on TV) that every "dark" personality comes from a "dark" background. There is a probably a terrible childhood story behind that. Seeing sexual predators makes me almost want to feel pity for them. Almost being the key word there.

A soothing shower

In continuation of my last post...
I recalled a lot more details after that, plenty of finer details. I remember the conversations that were. Yet, there is one part, one essential detail that still eludes me. Recalling that would give me the completeness I seek. I talked to my therapist again, I needed to. It was different. I was able to talk about, in quite the vivid detail I had in my head without too much hesitation. Some of my deeply ingrained patterns now have a reason to them.

I find it interesting that another friend of mine, who also has gone through a recent rape, found showering very soothing. What is it? I know, there is a feeling clean instead of dirty factor. Somehow, I don't suppose that is not it all for me. There is more to it. Hard to express. To feel the water drops drip-drop and splatter off the skin is comforting. Perhaps it is a reminder of how everything in life has a cycle. May be it is a sense of shielding... the water cannot penetrate; it has to splatter off my skin, the closest I can come to a shield? May be I'm simply over thinking this. Could it be more fundamental than that? Rain brings water to the ground and stimulates growth... rain water activates the ground bacteria that start fixing nitrogen in the ground, leaving more oxygen in the atmosphere. Yes, it is stretch, but hey, it is afterall my blog :-)
While I'm stretching thus, might as well include one more hypothesis: "we are born in water". Being inside the amniotic fluid is perhaps the most basal instinct we have for safety. Thinking about it, we curl up when we need to feel safe (or cozy). That is perhaps what I intended to obtain from the shower.

A stirring from the past

Recently, every time I watch TV or check the news online, I invariably find something on rape or child sexual abuse. Saturday was no different. First there was a documentary of a girl (Confessions/The Letter on Dateline NBC -- link below) who was raped. Then it was a show that had a male child sexual abuse/predator/survivor subplot in it. I had taken them all well. I had a decent sleep. I was proud of myself.

Sunday morning I was telling the only guy who knows I'm a sexual abuse survivor about the above. I added, "I wonder if this is a sign!". The response for the rhetoric stunned me. He asked me if I considered myself a child abuse survivor. I was stunned. He knows about it, not in detail but in summary. So, why would he ask that question. After stammering for an answer, wondering if there is a meaning I do not understand, I managed a "yes". I didn't think about it then. Now I'm.

Sunday evening, my mind had wandered into the story of the girl who was raped while unconscious (Confessions/The Letter on Dateline NBC). During the narrative she said something about coming back to her room and showering for a long time because it felt dirty. It jogged my memory and I remember doing the same. I felt the same way again and stayed in the shower for nearly an hour.

Eventually, I had to get out of my house. I went for a walk. Then went and visited a friend as promised. But, I still am reeling from the onslaught of memories served fresh. I remember details of the curtain, the shape of the room, the entire incident in short. I also remember walking back home embarrassed, blaming myself, ashamed of myself, cursing myself, angry, afraid, confused,...
I remember staying the shower for nearly and hour and a half. It was a Saturday afternoon-evening time. I remember looking at the mallu-auto guy and wondering how much he knew, every time I saw him. I wondered how much the other people knew.

All that aside, I've been seeking one thing... only one thing all this time: acceptance and support. Not pity, not apologies, not pain, not revulsion, not scowl, not any of those. Acceptance and support... an understanding of my situation and then to treat me still the same way as I'm now. Barring perhaps O, there is only one person right now that fits the bill, Py (MT). She is the only one who didn't run away or treat me any differently. Thank you my friend.

Pedophilia

Here is a follow up to my previous post. This is interesting in that, it is not just in India that such horrors happen. In fact, I find it more audacious that someone who downloaded child porn be let loose in the society. Have we learnt nothing? This really angers me. I think this is the person who needs to be put in jail and pick soap, if you know what I mean. Sometimes, I wonder if even that would be sufficient. Sure you can claim he needs psychological help. But, I don't think he deserves anything... he deserves the iron maiden. No, I take that back. I think he deserves torture... simple yet elegant. Make him listen to 24 hours of hard metal songs immediately followed by 24 hours of elmo, sponge bob and such. There is his therapy! Shame on us for letting such criminals out in the open. I'd rather have a thief than a pedophile in the open.

Rape & Injustice

As I was reading BBC news on the South Asian section, I found this India rape accused weds 'victim'. How horrible is that? A few years ago, I might have thought that was appropriate justice. That is what the movies have said. That is exactly what I've been told to believe in. No, not anymore. It must really be horrible for that girl who is in that marriage, even though she might believe this is the best thing that can happen, as I did a few years ago.

If I think back on it, it is all because of the societal pressures on a non-virgin unwed girl. Yes, a non-virgin girl cannot be married to "another" guy. And, however horrible the guy might be, it is the responsibility and duty of the woman to make sure that the family goes on. It is important that she adjust to his needs... no whims and fancies. This is utter horrible. This makes me angry. As Ms. Walia says, shame on the court. Shame on the judicial system -- the judges, the prosecutors and whoever is involved in this heinous crime.

On a similar note, here is another such audacious proposal. Kudos to the woman who rejected it.

Friendship

I have recently come to realize that it is not easy for me to strike friendships with men my own age. I'd rather be with men who are older (by a decade or two) than I'm. Whereas when it comes to women, I don't have that problem. Perhaps it is the same "victim" mentality. But, I don't think so. There are other factors as well.

1. I'm more "mature" for my age in some respects. I don't really feel comfortable hanging out in bars and stuff like that. I'm not really big on outdoors-y things as a group.
2. I prefer smaller groups than bigger ones. I usually consider 2 a company and 3 a crowd. It is just the way I'm.
3. My topics of interest seem to be much different from what men my own age are interested in. I'm simply tired of listening to what does not appeal to me. It comes across as mindless chatter to me.
4. In no small measure, I'm a dork. It makes me uncomfortable in social situations in general. When hanging out with other men, especially of my own age, I find that this aspect of me is particularly uneasy on myself. Yes, I feel insecure in my social skills. Women seem to tolerate this better.

There might be cultural undercurrents that I'm not entirely aware of; However, I'm not going to hide behind them. Regardless, I thought I should mention this.

Something to ponder!

Trust and mistrust

I had my first therapy session of the year today. It was good, very good indeed. I went in with one thing in mind. Came out with a more fundamental understanding of things. It was wonderful.

I usually trust people completely, and very easily. I do not doubt their credibility from the get go. All this time, I've thought my problem was this trusting nature. But today, I realized to my own surprise that it is not just my trusting nature that is a problem. It is also my distrusting nature that is a problem. I realized that I loose trust in people as quickly as I trust them. That is really bad. This is mainly due to my insecurity. I feel the need to be reassured in any relationship. But ultimately, the reassurance has to come from within. Right now, it mostly comes from without. This has unfortunately broken a few of my relationships in the past -- not just the romantic, mind you.

This is really a pressing issue for me right now. That I overly trust initially and then soon afterwards unreasonably distrust is unhealthy I feel. I know it is better late than never, nevertheless it has cost me rather dearly, I'm afraid. Huh! I could only hope that I don't repeat the mistake again!

One more thing...

I just found out that Edgar Allan Poe was born today. Just an interesting fact about a favorite poet/author of mine. Thats all. I think that is a good note to end the day on!

Lending a helping hand, a realization of sunyata

I've been helping D with the computer for her friend. D finds the help I've been providing rather too selfless. I wonder if she is struggling with the idea that I'm being this helpful without asking for much, if not anything, in return. It even worries her, I feel. It would perhaps do the same to me. She is trying hard to see what the "real hidden agenda" behind all this is. At this point, I don't have any at all! The way I see it, I have the opportunity, time and "skill" to do what needs to be done. I can be thankful for that. Sure, there is that satisfaction I gain from helping someone. That satisfies my ego. I makes me feel important. I hear nice words from a good looking woman. It makes me feel fulfilled in some ways. So, I guess there is an agenda.

That said, I think there is one agenda that is beyond me. As I was eating at the Heartland Cafe, and reading Dune Messiah in parallel, I realized this: I'm nothing more than an agent through which the universe acts. I'm playing my part exactly as it was meant to be. It is almost as if this body of mine belongs to something else, and it simply acts through me to get to its means or whatever it does or needs to do. I know it sounds very New Age-y, but I'm afraid I'm not able to express this any better than that. I think Frank Herbert's Paul from Dune Messiah expresses this better:

...It occurred to Paul then that all creatures must carry some kind of destiny stamped out by purposes of varying strengths, by the fixation of training and disposition. From the moment the Jihad had chosen him, he'd felt himself hemmed in by the forces of a multitude. Their fixed purposes demanded and controlled his course. Any delusions of Free Will he harbored now must be merely the prisoner rattling his cage. His curse lay in the fact that he saw the cage. He saw it!
...

The only difference is that I don't see it as a cage. I rather see is as a much more opening experience. There is no me, only a flux going through what is recognized, rather associated as "me". Only the flux of change and flow, coursing in me and through me. So, where is "me" and "I" in all of this? I find no such thing, yet there is such a thing. What a strange thing this is! This is what has been labeled in Buddhism (& Hinduism) as sunyata, I guess.

What a strange feeling it is... it is all-encompassing because of the lack of everything, it form arising out of formlessness, formlessness arising out of form. This has been a very very interesting day with some wonderful realizations. Fascinating!

Speaking in the listener's language

So far this day has turned out very interesting. First there was a realization about my self-blame. Soon afterwards, I got an email from a rather anxious א. My reply email appears to have impressed her so much that she had to call and thank me. I'm finally starting to understand what people hear when I say the things I say. I'm suddenly having this glimpse of what the subtext of what people are saying is. More than that, it is about what they need to hear. It doesn't mean I'm able to answer them easily. Right now, email seems better suited, since I can think and say what I really mean to say instead of just saying something. No, it is not about saying what they want to hear, but it is about conveying what I want to say in better terms. In a sense, it is speaking in the listener's language. This works better when emailed. In direct conversation, I'm pretty much in the throw of things, myself. It is a process. I'm starting out on it.

Another interesting thing that has been happening is that I'm starting to "understand" M. He and I have never, looked straight in the eye, so to speak. But I think that is improving. He volunteer's information as I start to do the same. Interesting.

There is more I want to add, but I think that deserves a separate post in and of itself.

Guilt and self-blame

Those two have been the most powerful emotions in shaping me. Especially self-blame. I had another one of these yesterday. This time, I caught myself leaning towards self-blame for things entirely out of my control.

I found myself get caught in the middle of a "couple's" fight. Technically, they are not a couple, but that is besides the point. Finding myself in the presence of two people fighting opened the flood gates of self-blame for me. "It must be because of me", I thought. Granted, there might be some old flames are work. But, knowing that history and questioning its influence on current possibilities, I started with my self-blame. I must not be here. I should get out. I'm causing trouble for them. In crept Guilt right then, I'm at fault. I'm the one to blame. Why do I end up in between all the time?

It took me a while to recognize it has got nothing to do with me, per say. Even if it were due to the history, that person has to deal with it. Not I. This I realized within an hour of when I first started feeling that way. That is new for me. I usually don't ever realize it, not until it is too late and I'm already in depression. I'm happy to have made that progress, if you can call it that.

Today, I realize that this has been the trend in a lot of my personal relationships. I don't think it is a exaggeration if I were to say that it is the case with all. I've always seen things in the light of "my fault", rather than for what they were. I've always wondered what I could have done differently so that the conflict could have been avoided. I do not recall asking myself whether or not what I did was right, only what could have been different. It never mattered to me if acting different would have been fair or unfair for me.

That doesn't sound right even to write! But I've done that exactly that all my life, especially in relationships that mattered the most. Hmm, something to work on!

A new beginning

Here I'm, watching a Frontline movie (Hand of God) on child abuse. It is bringing back my own memories. More than that, it is giving me courage to post about it online. So, here I'm blogging about my broken childhood.

I find Hand of God pretty evocative. Here is the introduction:

In "Hand of God," filmmaker Joe Cultrera explores the very personal story of how his brother -- Paul -- was molested in the 1960s by their parish priest, Father Joseph Birmingham, who allegedly abused nearly 100 other children. Producer Joe Cultrera tells the story of faith betrayed and how his brother Paul and the rest of the Cultrera family fought back against a scandal that continues to afflict scores of churches across the country.

"I was inspired by my brother's strength of spirit in surviving his abuse," says Joe Cultrera. "His story was unlike any I had seen in the media. I thought a detailed film about his and my family's experience would prove healing and freeing for others."

[...]

At 14, Paul, an altar boy at St. James Parish, came under the guidance of Fr. Birmingham. Birmingham was young and friendly, often taking the boys on trips and inviting them to the rectory for Friday and Saturday night pizza parties. It was during confession that Paul's relationship with Fr. Birmingham changed. Confessing to masturbation led to private "counseling" sessions at the rectory, where Paul was sexually abused. Birmingham also abused him during nighttime rides in Birmingham's black Ford Galaxie and on trips out of town.

"When you're totally wrapped up in the environment of sin and guilt, you internalize it yourself. At least I did. I decided it was my fault. It was something the matter with me," says Paul. "You think you've done something really bad. So you become very adept at drawing a huge circle around that part of your life."

[...]

"The film created an opportunity for my family to deal with these issues in a very intimate way," says Joe. "We have emerged as a more understanding unit. One of my hopes is that the film will inspire other families to talk."

While there was no priest in my childhood. There was a sufficiently powerful figure involved. Perhaps one day I'll have the courage to post my story and face next to each other. To me this story shows me another male child abuse survivor, who came out and put his face and voice where his story is. That is where I wish to be, some day! And one day perhaps I'll be able to share this with my family and expect understanding in return!