Buckle Up – This is going to be a long read but important to me and maybe to someone else who might read it.
I’m an almost 30-year-old lost woman who has absolutely lost faith in romance, love, relationships, friendships, loyalty and family. Now, I recognize that it is an extremely sad sentence to say out loud, even to myself. Life however has pushed me in so many directions that I stand at this crossroad for now. One shows the way towards healing with obstacles and the other one where I wallow for life. Though the obvious choice is the path towards healing, it is not always easy to choose it and not everyone has the strength to do so without the support it requires.
This is not to say that everyone in my life does not deserve the love and affection I give them nor does that say that they do not care about me or support me. Somewhere along the way, growing up, there were so many factors that contributed to my current state of thinking and thought processes, that I myself struggle to understand why I am the way I am today. This i recognize as an impediment towards healing.
I’m writing this post not to disparage my family or friends or anyone who has ever in the past, who are now and who will stand by me throughout my journey of life. I write it as an attempt to show a glimpse into the world of someone who has clinical depression and how family/friends can affect it, be it positively or negatively.
To begin with, let me explain myself and my background. I’m from a normal desi family where used to live with my parents, my elder sister and my maternal grandparents. Being doctors, both my parents were hardly ever present in our lives to dedicate an appropriate amount of time to their children. This ,again in my personal perspective, albeit biased – not what a child requires. Thus, my grandfather became my entire world. My day started with him, my day ended with him.
My granddad loved me more than anyone I can remember and more than anyone in my life currently. I always grew up feeling unwanted or misunderstood and like an outcast in my own family. Now, I’m not delving into that debate in this post but that was the mindset growing up. My parents consciously or unconsciously favored my sister over me. They always have, they do and I know they always will. They vehemently deny the accusation but not surprisingly, I have resentment towards my parents for that. What is surprising though is that I never had resentment towards my sister. It was not in her hands was it?
So, my granddad compensated for the parity in every way possible. He woke me up, got me ready for school, fed me, helped me with homework and bought me anything I ever wanted. My family still tells me this and I felt it too with him. He always knew what I wanted before I even told him. I would have just thought about something and the next thing I know, he would have gotten it for me. I always thought it was magic at the time. Over time , I have come to understand that he was the only person in the world who ever truly understood me as a person.
I have such fond memories of him. I have the memory of the chicken from moana or surya from the movie ghajini ( for tamil or hindi movie fans out there, you know what I mean). But these, they are forever ingrained in my brain. Every month he got his pension was a mini celebration. A bottle of coke for me and anything else i wanted, Sprite,jalebies and bananas for him (a raging diabetic by the way) and whatever others needed. These were a constant. I’m still a coke addict to this day, not because he introduced them to me, but in a very twisted and weird way, I feel connected to him when I drink it. I get sincerely sick with it, IBS flaring, gut issues, sinusitis and what not. Yet, I cannot go by a few days without it. I was and still am an insomniac who also happens to detest snoring. I have auditory sensitivity issues as well. I used to slip out of my parents bedroom where I slept on the floor alone because I could not take the snoring. I quietly would go to the living room in the dark and lie on the sofa. I was about 7-8 years old at the time. My grandad, like magic, would someone know I’m up. No matter how quiet I would be. We would then spend the rest of the night chatting, him making me food to munch, telling me stories until I fell asleep. Even today, my habit of enjoying cooking and having midnight cravings are very much a thatha(a.k.a grandad) reminder and learnt habit that brings me immense joy. I have so many memories of him that I could go on and on about it. But, you get the picture, he was,still is and will forever be my entire world.
Now Imagine, you’re just 10 years old, your granddad is your world and one day out of nowhere, your world is snatched from you. The ground beneath you has collapsed. There is no light and you’re in the pit of darkness. I thought when books and movies said this or depicted this, it was such an exaggeration. It couldn’t possibly be that bad, until I felt it. It is true and will remain true till my last breath. Not only was the loss, a strong jolt to my system but the guilt that came with knowing that he fell in the bathroom trying to wash my school shoes/clothes and died during surgery due to diabetic complications has changed me in so many ways that many people would not comprehend them. My world shattered that day and it never came back together the same way again. The unconditional love, the attachment, the feeling of being wanted and the indescribable peace that came with just hanging out with him is and will forever be an unmatched thing in my life.
My issues/problems that I had would instantly melt away when I was with him. We had this tradition of watching tamil tv soap operas and loudly commenting on them while watching it together. I still do it. I still loudly comment when I’m watching something and I imagine he is right there beside me, doing the same.
I’m now 30. 20 years have passed. There hasn’t been a single day in my life that I did not think about him or do not regret just going with him when he passed. I never knew you could love someone so much. Never knew that no matter how much time passed, no matter how happy I may seem at a moment in time , with the people beside me, I will forever be craving the love and peace he provided me. It also did not help that my parents didn’t even make an attempt at taking care of me when I spiraled out of control after he died. My mom actually got rid of all his pictures and memories because it hurt her too much. I only have one picture of him that I drew myself after he died. I stopped eating, sleeping, taking care of myself, failing school, failing classes,losing more weight, My teachers complained, classmate complained but no one cared. I was in an extremely dark place. Being completely alone in the planet, like in the middle of a rain forest or a desert or a mountain screaming into the void and just your voice echoing back – that’s how I feel all the time since he passed. This below is the only thing I have of him. I hardly remember what he sounded like. All I can remember is the love and peace he radiated all the time. I drew this right after he died. He would have loved it.
No one noticed I was spiraling out of control, except one person. I had absolutely no friends in school. Wherever I go people hated me, immediately assume I’m a bitch even if they have never spoken to me. But, here was this new innocent girl in school at 6th grade, who knew no English asking me out of nowhere if I would be her friend. I never knew at the time, she will be the reason for why I’m still here today. She took care of me in more ways than I can remember. She fed me, helped me sleep, fought with her parents to come meet me, motivated me to study( using the excuse that she needed me to help her), made up stories with me and played. Force fed me like a child in school after she hurriedly ate her own lunch. It worked. I slowly moved up the pit of darkness and despair.
This amazing human being has been through so many things with me, has been more my family than my family has ever been. Yet as expected, my family does not particularly enjoy her or her company. They have no idea how many times this woman has saved me from taking my own life. She made me promise in the 6th grade(mind you the year we met & the year my granddad died) – I’m never allowed to leave her. Not of my own accord, not even if she wants me to. This promise still helps me keep going, 20 years down the line and it will as long as I can handle it. There is so much more I can talk about her. There will definitely be post down the line dedicated to our friendship.
Now, the whole point of the long rambling is this – sometimes grieving someone is a forever process. It becomes a part of you that you can never erase. Even an extremely insignificant small thing can remind you and send you down a spiral. What is the most important take away in all of this is – to help you grieve, to love yourself for you – find your person. I found mine in her. My soul sister, my best friend, my protector. You can find it in anybody you trust. Find them. That will be what is the reason, you will keep going. If a lot of things remind you of your grief and someone says that was a long time ago – ask yourself this : Had they lost a part of their body , can you say it was so long ago, why are you still grieving? No, right? Losing someone is losing a part of your heart and brain. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. Find your person, be that person for somebody and live your lives the way your lost ones would want you to spend them.
This is me and my best friend 10 years ago:
We have had our fair share of fights and long periods of not talking, but in our hearts – we know, we are and will forever be each other’s person. She was, she is and she will forever be the Christina to my Meridith, the Chandler to my Joey, the moon to my earth and the forever friend I need. For once in my life, I thank the higher powers, whatever it maybe, for giving me my grandfather and her.
Whoever read it till here, you have the patience of a saint. But on a serious note, I hope you found your person. If not – I pray they find you soon. See you next time with more personal journey essays.
With Love,
Leelaa
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