 Spiritual: October 11, 2017 Issue [#8516] |
  Spiritual
This week: What do I know about myself? Edited by: THANKFUL SONALI RIP BIKERIDER  
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This newsletter is scheduled to be released on my 50th birthday.
That's considered a milestone of sorts.
So I just decided to think about what I've learnt about myself,
over five decades of knowing me. |
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Dear Reader,
I was born on a Wednesday. It was the 11th of October, 1967, and my Mom noted the exact time in my baby book - 12.16 PM.
It'll probably be fifty years to almost the minute, when this newsletter gets released -- also on a Wednesday. So I decided I'd indulge in a little self-awareness. Or something.
What do I know about myself, having lived with me for the last fifty years?
Um. Er.
I know that I'm very possessive of tote bags.
You know, the sort you get in grocery stores, or when you buy yourself a new dress. Or a bag you buy for yourself. I don't like giving them away. So if I'm with a friend and that friend has a lot to carry and no bag, I'll probably hand over that yellow tote that I got from the store -- but it'll be with a bit of reluctance and a small pang.
Someone from the poetry group, who has shifted to another city, was visiting here and stayed with me for a few days and forgot a towel behind. No biggie, I've just given it to someone who is, in turn, going to be visiting him, to hand it back.
But I had to put it in a bag! I thought twice, then I told myself -- 'you can't just hand him a plain towel to carry, Sonali. I mean, this isn't the Hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy.' So, with a few words of farewell, I handed over the bag, too.
Are you waiting for a conclusion or insight of some kind? Sorry, but there isn't going to be one. I'm sort of listing what I've learnt about myself, you're free to draw your own conclusions.
I know that I like to be punctual, and I don't often forgive others for not being punctual.
I absolutely hate to keep someone waiting. To the extent that, once, when in college (three decades ago), I had to meet up with my two closest buddies, they actually broke in to a sweat because I was late by four minutes. And they're not the kind to break in to a sweat easily. It's just that it was unheard of for me to be late. I'm the sort who lands up an hour early, because I've left margins for traffic or for locating the place, and then found it before I thought I would, or not got stuck in traffic. When I was doing a script-writing course, which the teacher was conducting at his residence, I was always the first one there. Once, however, I happened to be the second to arrive, only fifteen minutes early. With a twinkle in his eye but a stern face, he admonished, "You're late."
Now this one, I'm going to analyse. One -- according to me, it's manners. Just plain courtesy, to value someone else's time. And it does stem (cliched though this may sound) from valuing one's own time. But that's just the one part of it. I think it also has to do with slightly low self esteem. The other person is more important than I am, so how can they wait for me? I'm not sure how much of each is in play at any given time, but I think it's always a combination.
I'm not sure if I'm grateful to my Mom, or if I hate the way she brought me up.
In India, live-in nannies are pretty normal, when a kid is born. The nanny does most of the work for the kid, bath, 'changing', and so on. The mother breastfeeds, with the help of the nanny, but bottle-feeding is usually done by the nanny.
My nanny stayed on a bit after I outgrew the infancy stage.
She stayed on thirty-seven years, to be precise.
So, for thirty-seven years, I was waited on hand and foot. I didn't have to lift a finger for myself. Actually, I wasn't ALLOWED to lift a finger for myself. It was just so much easier, to let the nanny do it ... rather than take the time to teach a kid to fold clothes or take the trash out. When I tried to do something for myself, I was chastised. "Why can't you just leave it to your nanny? Why do you have to get up to these things yourself?"
I don't have a nanny now. She left, twelve-and-a-half years ago. Mom died ten years ago. It's Dad and me at home now.
And I struggle every day. I struggle to do simple things that would be habit, or automatic, for others. I didn't learn to do them at the right time, they aren't part of my routine. Making the bed, washing my shoes, sorting and stacking clothes ... it's like this big, exhausting mountain to climb on a daily basis.
I also struggle with my feelings about my mother. Was she neglectful? She didn't care if I acquired life-skills or not, she just wanted to save herself some hassle at that time. Or is it that she really loved me and wanted things perfect for me? Was it simple thoughtlessness? I struggle with this, almost every day. It's hard to resolve now that Mom's not there.
My friends are important to me.
I'm single, and I'm an only child. I have a lot of cousins whom I get along with (I have twenty-two first cousins) ... but they're scattered all over the globe. So, in the immediate vicinity, I have my friends and they mean the world to me. I have friends I hang out with, friends I talk for hours on the phone with, friends who land up at my door with their luggage, having walked out of home (see "While the Sun is Shining" ) ... friends who are as crazy as I am and friends who are, while you read this, probably singing Happy Birthday to me at a surprise party I already know about.
Yes, yes, I know about my surprise party.
The thing is, I'm not very fond of surprises. I'd rather just know in advance. It's more fun for me that way. So they decided to make it a surprise, and then each one called me individually, whispering 'don't tell the others I've let on, but we're having this party ...' and each time, I had to pretend I didn't already know ...  Yes, I have friends I'm grateful for. They're my world.
While on friends ...
I confess to having two ex-friends.
Yup, I've cut off from two of my friends ... and one of those hurts. I initiated the cut-off, and I hurt. Here's the story in brief. She's my neighbour (four houses away) and she and I walk together sometimes, around the park in the evenings. Well, I've requested her not to mention it aloud on the street when my Dad isn't in town and I'm alone at home. For a while, our neighbourhood was unsafe and I was worried about people knowing I'm alone for a few days. We had a burglary attempt at home, in 2009, when both Dad and I were out for the morning on a Sunday.
Well, my neighbour didn't respect that request. She would loudly say things like, "When's Dad back?" for all to hear. So, I stopped telling her when Dad was going to be out of town. Once, in February, she saw him get in to the auto riksha with his luggage, in the early morning, and sure enough, on our evening walk, "Where was your Dad going, with all that luggage?"
I've repeatedly told her, please don't, it makes me scared. But she simply pooh-poohs that. I decided that it's not up to her to decide whether I'm being paranoid or not, and pooh-pooh my fears. If she can't respect what I feel, she can't be a friend, that's that. I didn't join her for the walk the day after that, in February ...
When we bump in to each other or she calls (rare, now), I'm polite enough, but I don't consider her a friend any more. I miss her, but have made this decision.
I don't know what I'd see in the Mirror of Erised.
Those who know me well must've been waiting for a Harry Potter reference by now! Well, I'm not going to disappoint you, here it is! For non-Potterheads, the Mirror of Erised (which is 'desire' spelled backward) shows you, not your reflection, but your heart's deepest desire. It shows what you truly yearn for.
And, for the last few years, I've been thinking about it off and on -- what would I see in the Mirror of Erised? The answer is -- I don't know! I mean, I know I want more tote bags, but I don't think that counts!  . What's my deepest desire? What do I yearn for? Is it a relationship? Is it that my Dad somehow lives forever? Is it a kitten? Is it my own library? Is to to somehow get my Mom and my Nanny back? Is it to get my weak eyesight fixed? I don't know. I don't know which of these I want badly enough that it shows up in the Mirror. I don't even know if it's something totally different that I haven't yet realised I want. Feels a bit strange, not knowing this! But there it is, I don't know!
I could go on, but I think this is enough for one newsletter!
Hope I didn't bore you.
Much love,
 |
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Thanks, An apple a day.... for this response to "Quiz Dilemmas" :
I think you must be a wonderful inquizitor! Thanks from a muggle for telling me about your Potter games. |
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Amazon's Price: $ 15.99
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