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?

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.

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 :)

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.

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.