understanding

“The Attitude of Gratitude”: A Phrase I Hate, A Feeling I Appreciate

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piglet_gratitude Today’s Mood Ingredients: Contemplative, Introspective, Grateful. Hi! It’s been a while. Life suddenly leaped out at me & bit me in the rear. However, in the time that pretty much everything was happening all at once, I did realize a few things. I live a pretty good life. It’s not perfect by any means (& obviously no one’s lives are), it’s absurdly stressful, I’m ridiculously worried 20/7 (which is a spectacular upwards movement from 26/7, congrats to me), I want to do 9 million things with the time to do only 30, and I get frustrated that all of the above is occurring. I do, however, have working (albeit mildly arthritic-sadly, not a joke) legs, mobile arms (wing span situation notwithstanding), a functioning brain (up for debate), and a plenitude of opportunity (which I abashedly admit to not taking advantage of enough).

Ok, so don’t close this blog yet! I promise it’s not a preachy post on how we should all be thankful for what we have (even though we should) & how what we have in this life is enough (even though it is). This is a post about how I realized that the words “average” & “normal” have two different meanings and depths with respect to my life. I was always the person who would get incredibly annoyed when people would tell me to think of those less fortunate than me when I was having a bad day. I mean..I am aware that there are people who have no food & no water & no families, & no one feels for them more than me & my over-empathetic self does, but sometimes, I just wanted to wallow in my own misery. COULD I LIVE!? Over time though, I realized that as much as my most terrifying fear was to be “normal” or “average” in the achievement sense, I have never been more grateful to be “average” & “normal” in the life sense. I have an immediate family of 11 that loves me unconditionally & whom I love obsessively back. I have amazing friends who have seen me through some morose times and some euphoric times. I have my health, my family (even through everything as of late) has theirs, we have a roof over our heads, we have food on our tables, and although we are wanting in many other ways, the most important thing is that we have a support system that people would literally kill for (seriously, they’ve creepily told me so). So although I want my business to succeed more, my dreams to be fulfilled more, my worries to be calmed more..I’m truly grateful that on my way to hopefully being able to realize all of those things, I have the ability and the resources that allow me to excel..& all I have to put in is the work.

If you follow this blog, you’ve heard me say this plenty of times, & I’m clearly still going through some form of PTSD from it, but I will never ever be more grateful to whomever, wherever, whatever, that my parents are still with me. To have my greatest fear nearly realized within a short span of 7 months, & to have us all restored to an almost normal (for us, anyway) level is something that I will never be able to express enough thanks for. And for better or for worse, that heavy emotional trauma was the catalyst for me to realize that I have enough. In fact, I have a lot.  In fact, I have the most.  I know I said this wouldn’t be a preachy post, but honestly, I just wanted you to keep reading because if a self-admitted, everyone-proclaimed pessimistic wallower can find a way to revel in all that she has, you guys can do it eeeaaasily! The point is, sometimes, shit is gonna suck. A lot. And sometimes, things are going to be so amazing, you can’t imagine them getting any better..& then they do. But if you want to get through the roller coaster labrynth & come out unscathed on the other side, find ways to be appreciative of the things you have, and even of the things that you don’t. A new perspective never hurt anybody!

**For those who want some ideas on how to get the ball rolling, check out these two links below which have helped me become less of a negative person.

8 Things To Remember When Everything Is Going Wrong

100 Happy Days

Today’s Interlude: Grateful by John Bucchino performed by Stephen Carr

JUST DANCE, GONNA BE OK, DA DA DOO DOO; THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION TO STRESS

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ARTS: JUST DANCE, GONNA BE OK, DA DA DOO DOO; THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION TO STRESS

Today’s Mood Ingredients: Euphoric, Free, Alive.

Stress. Overwhelming stress. It’s very rare that people today don’t have it. It varies in levels depending on a number of factors; career, family, emotions, personality, lifestyle, income, desires, etcetera, but it’s there. Silently waiting to attack when you least expect it, rendering you manic or crazed or depressed or angry. Let’s say you can’t quit your job to own a farm in California or live a spa life in Arizona. You can’t quit your family, you can’t shirk your responsibilities, you can’t overcome your sporadic but prevalent emotional tsunamis. So, what do you do? Release it. For me, the greatest and truest inanimate, intangible passion of my life is dance. Any form. Drunken, choreographed, impromptu, rehearsed, performed, jumping & booty-bumping with my 2.5 year old nephew, ballroom dancing with the puppy. ANY. If it was possible to bottle the feeling that radiates within and out of me when I’m dancing, I would be in direct competition with the Onassis family as wealthiest around. However, I cherish the fact that the feeling is so inexpressible for me because I get to have a sense of public privacy.

The audience sees a performer on stage expressing lyrics and movements to given music, but much of the time, the performer is in a whole different secret world. I have literally been brought to tears or euphoria on stage depending on the day of performance, & the people, who I don’t even register in my consciousness, applaud. They applaud for a technical performance that hopefully connected with them in some way. What they don’t realize is that the emotion that’s coming off in waves from the stage to the audience at such a high frequency is the tumultuous collage of my innermost fears, happinesses, struggles, tears, accomplishments, sadness, & stress being released. They are privy to something they don’t even know of, & for a hyper-private person like me, it’s my way of “talking about my feelings.” Dancing has saved me from a lot in life. It has protected me from a lot in life. It has given me a lot in life. It is the only outlet that still serves to shatter my anxiety, my founded & unfounded worries, & my fears. The best way to describe it, I suppose, is by using my favorite quote, also tattooed on my ankle: “In life, as in dance; grace glides on blistered feet.” When I’m dancing, I’m at my most euphoric. When I’m dancing, I’m at my most tranquil. When I’m dancing, I’m at my most giving. It’s a blind & frozen moment in time where everything is nothing and nothing is everything & I’m spinning along with the world in harmony.

Everyone deserves this. You deserve to feel this way about something in your life, if not necessarily dance. When things are piling up & suffocating you under their deadweight, find your own outlet. You don’t have to be good at it. Contrary to popular & incorrect belief, NO ONE CARES.

“Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace, and the brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storms.”-Charles Caleb Colton

Is splattering paint across a canvas therapeutic? Do it. Listening to music? Blast it. Playing sports (not my forte!)? Kick it, pitch it, run it. Writing? Scribble it. No one is expected to be the next DaVinci, Stevie Wonder, Jackie Robinson, Ernest Hemingway, but you are expected to somehow be able to enjoy this life without needing an industrial-strength antacid twice a day. I’m lucky that I found my meditation at the age of 3, but “too late” is a phrase I’m just starting to eke out of my vernacular, & I suggest you do the same for “life is short, but sweet for certain.”

Today’s Interlude: “Dance Dance Dance” by Lykke Li

         

Thank You For Bein’ A Friend, Travelin’ Down The Road & Back Again: Long vs. Lost Friendships

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Nostalgic, Understanding, Reflective.

We all have friends (this is a relatively secure assumption). We’ve made them over different times in our lives, on numerous journeys, at various ages. But how many of you still have them all? I know I don’t. Friendship is a funny thing in general. I mean, how do groups of people find each other & forge a bond that’s strong enough that makes them want to spend time together over & over again? I find myself wondering that all the time when I see people on the train or at restaurants or elsewhere; how did you all meet, where did you find each other, how did you connect? (Yes, I realize this makes me sound like a creeper, but I’m owning it, people.) Nevertheless, it happens & you go through life with these people who you’re connected to and when you’re young, you’re all BFFLS & BFFAES and when you’re in high school, you’re all about the cool kids & who’s wearing what to the pep rally if not a cheerleader uniform (btw, none of those were me because I was a bony little nerd, a fact I have finally accepted later in life). College comes around and you find like minded individuals with similar interests and passions (read: freedom & drinking, meant: poetry, dance, film, science). Real life finds you meeting people who are settling down, accepting responsibility, becoming “grown ups.” Now look back on all of those times in your life; how many of those BFFs are still around? 

If you’re like me, you have numerous & varied circles of friends. If you’re like me, you also have had incidences & circumstances which rendered much change in those groups & relationships. I can honestly say I vividly remember & still keep in touch with many of my friends from elementary school through college (thanks, Mark Zuckerberg!). Are we close? No. But our lives are interwoven with fond memories of becoming adults, and now, social media milestones that still allow a thread of a connection both to each other & to our common pasts. 

Unfortunately, time plays its part as do the growth and change of personalities & the people who have them. There are so many friends that cross my mind on a regular basis who I don’t think I’ve spoken to in months, & in some cases, years. So many of the girls from my college dance troupe who have witnessed many of my most catalytic moments, I don’t talk to much anymore, & this is after forming a close bond over 4-5 years of all night practices, 5 hour lunches, open bars, parties, performances, travel, tears, fears, laughter, girl talk, boy talk, & sleepovers. I admire them still & stalk lives via social media, but it’s a tentative connection, albeit based on true love for them. I can still say, however, when it so happens that we do meet, that core of friendship picks up quite quickly, & we will always be bound (in a non-criminal way) by the matching tattoo that 10 of us have depicting the passion that brought us together; dance. Medical school was a whole other story. We all became “family” very quickly (admittedly, due to me trying to make the best of an intimidating situation for all of us) and when you’re stuck on a tiny little island for 16 months (or more), studying instead of going to lay by the crystal clear turquoise waters that are right below your balcony, you become realllly close reallllly fast and things can get pretty dramatic pretty fast too. But what happens when you are back to reality (oops, there goes gravity..jk) and seeing your old pre-island friends and trying to readjust to non-island life? Some things can fall apart, and some things stay glued together. In my case, I was lucky to be able to hold on to some very true & real friendships with people who, although I’ve only really known for 7 years at this point, are some of the closest confidantes I have. They may not all be very good friends with each other, but they are very good friends to me, and that is probably the one thing I came away with from Caribbean Med that I treasure the most. Unfortunately, there are also some people who I was unable to stay connected to & although that gives me little pangs now & again, there is clarity in hindsight, and the reason for the disconnect was always valid.

At the end of the day, all of those little clichés about people coming in & out of your life whether for you to change them in some way or for them to change you (for better or worse) ring loud, ring clear, & ring true. I’ve had friends who have made me less trusting, friends who have made me more hopeful, friends who have made me more perceptive, friends who have made me more suspicious, friends who have made me brighter, and friends who have dulled my luster. But for a brief moment in the timeline of our lives, we intersected, we connected, and we loved; and sometimes, that’s just plain good enough.

To all of my own lost connections, be they by chance, choice, or circumstance, know that I think of you often. When a certain song comes on or when I smell something familiar or especially when I’m pondering on the past (which I do more often than I’d prefer), I wonder what you all are up to and hope that you are happy & well. There will forever be people and places that will own a sliver of your memory and a part of your heart. And to borrow from John, George, Paul, & Ringo, all these places had their moments, with lovers & friends I still can recall. In my life, I loved them all. 

Today’s Interlude: “In My Life,” The Beatles

I Tried Carrying The Weight Of The World, But I Only Have Two Hands: The Agony of Anxiety

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Worried, Stressed, Exhausted, ANXIOUS.

This is probably my most personal post yet & I’m hoping I actually hit “publish” before deleting the whole thing. I don’t know about you, but over the past decade or so, I’ve been hearing much more about “anxiety” than I ever have before, or maybe I’ve just gotten older and have had way more experience with it than I’d like. Most of us use the word “anxious” as a substitute for “nervous,” & although they have many overlaps, trust me when I say they’re completely different things. I was nervous before launching my own company, I am anxious all the time.

I’ve always been a relatively confident and logical human being. Yes, it’s possible that I’m more emotional than most & feel things very intensely, but I could always rationalize and understand situations without suddenly feeling like my world was crumbling. Over time however, I’ve realized that I started developing a real anxiety issue. I can attribute this to situations from my childhood & failed relationships & starting medical school and quitting medical school, and a plethora of other events that could cause anyone minor anxiety, but for me, it has ballooned into an unmanageable situation causing dysfunction and deflation. Add those events to the life of an already introverted, hyper self-aware, super-emotional, over-imaginative pessimist & there is only disaster.

Lately, I’ve started worrying about things that have only the most miniscule chance in hell of happening, but I worry about them constantly. My parents’ health woes took a huge toll on me & now I stalk them like a little creepy shadow daughter. The idea is that if I am always there with the people I worry about, then I can control the situation and in turn, the scary thing I fear will not occur. This is not logical because I have not yet been cloned (& I don’t think anyone who knows me would even allow that for the sake of their own sanity) & I obviously cannot be everywhere at once. This fact alone causes me great anguish because lack of control over something I feel deeply about is something that drives me completely nutty (currently, I’m only partially nutty). The lack of control over my negative thoughts (please see header image above..that’s literally me in cartoon form) sends me into an anxiety spiral that I usually need my inhaler to get out of. What’s also fun is that an anxiety attack can mimic symptoms of a heart attack & I usually end up sweating & short of breath, with chest pain & tingling limbs; a fantastic thing to watch in a notorious hypochondriac (someone should really take me on the road as a traveling one-woman emotional circus, might as well cash in on myself).

The problem with anxiety is that it’s sometimes overlooked & treated as though it’s a minor issue that an individual who suffers from it can get past by just changing their thoughts. “Just think positive! Control it! Count to 10!” Hello friends, if changing thoughts & inner processes were that simple, who out there wouldn’t be a perpetually happy, content, self-assured person!? I don’t even know that the worst-case scenario thought is coming before it’s already onto catastrophic proportions-case scenario! It’s an agonizing & literally physically and mentally exhausting condition when it gets too far (a la moi) & even more so when the individual refuses to ask for help and believes that they can sift through their irrational concerns on their own because that’s what they’ve always done (again, a la moi), because then there is an internal battle of why won’t this go away like it always has & will this get worse if I don’t explain it to someone else out there? I could go on & on about the stigma of such disorders that is out there, but honestly, you can just Google that and get more articulate & thorough information out there than I could provide for you. I’m not the biggest fan of therapy or drugs (I know that’s rich coming from an ex-medical student with a psychology major/sociology minor, but..sorry?), but it’s not because of any stigma. I’m an advocate of all of the above..for everyone else. I’m not a talker, I’m a thinker & the idea of having to go through my life story & delve into my past with someone who knows nothing about me is less comforting than it is terrifying. And the idea of them giving me a houseful of Xanax is even worse. But recently, even I have had to admit to the fact that something has to be done for me, & more importantly, it has to be done by me. The 7 years of insomnia, the daily “what ifs,” the negative terror-thought cycle, the improbable scenarios, the sudden dread at nightfall, and the immense need to control situations and people would be beautiful traits written for a character in reel life, but they don’t belong in my real life (but in case anyone in the industry is reading this, I can totally play myself if you decide to bring that character to life; Oscars, here I come!). 😛

What I can say is that I know that I’m not alone. I’m upset about that because I wish no one had to suffer through the constant crippling & paralysis that severe anxiety has on one’s day/goals/social life/entire life, but I’ve finally understood & come to terms with the fact that it can be managed. What we all can do & should do is be people who support one another, empathize with one another, & understand each other to the best of our abilities (this is true whether you suffer from it or not, btw).

In the words of Bastille, “But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” The new & hopeful words of my inner self are just beginning to form an answer..I am gonna be an optimist about this. I have a fabulous life to live.

P.S. If you suffer from anxiety, there are apparently a million resources out there, check ’em out here.

Today’s Interlude(s): “Don’t Let Me Get Me,” Pink & “Happy,” Pharrell Williams (kind of a before & after thing)

Are You There, God? It’s Me, Siddhi: My Friend & Foe Follies With Faith

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Trusting, Trying, Anxious, Faithful.

I’ve always been a child of faith. Mostly because as kids, you tend to follow whatever path your parents are on, & in my case, that was a deep belief in Hinduism and our polytheism. They told me to go to temples with them, I went. I prayed because they were praying, & I mean, believing in God seemed like a normal life process. As I got older, the religious ceremonies and prayers became more time consuming activities, and not in a good way. I didn’t feel like going all the way to Pittsburgh or Queens to go to various temples when I thought logically, it made sense to just pray to all of the idols we had all over our house. I still believed in all of my Gods, but I didn’t want to take the time out of the rest of my life to go be grateful for something or to ask for something to someone who, at that point in my life, I wasn’t even sure existed.

At 17, I had a minor health scare which was a slight ordeal, but the residual (temporary) effect was an extremely swollen left side of my face & a crooked one-sided smile. At 17, we’re all narcissists and high school is a hall of mirrors reflected back to you in the faces of your peers. I was a senior; I didn’t quite process that my life had just been saved, I only knew that prom was coming, yearbook pictures were coming, & graduation pictures were coming. One day, I was so infuriated by the distorted reflection staring back at me in my mirror, that I threw it across the room & threw a nearby religious idol with it. I was so pissed off that any of this could be occurring, & naturally, I blamed God. I mean, if there were Gods, why would They ever let this tragedy happen to me? God isn’t supposed to allow for suffering, He/They (for me) are supposed to make sure that They protect you and take care of you. From that point forward, at a gradual pace that I didn’t even recognize until years later, my belief waned. The more terrible things I heard about in the world, the more (in hindsight, minor) things that came my way to overcome, the less I followed my parents’ customs anymore, the less I believed in prayer, & the more I sat in the car when they dragged us to the temple (by the way, this didn’t all just start because my face was a partially inflated balloon, I’m not that vain, but that is the first moment I recall really feeling a change). For many years following that, I became an atheist. I just couldn’t bring myself to feel that strength of faith or shift in energy or positivity in prayer or in God or the idea of God anymore. I had many “why me?” moments that we all have, but they didn’t propel me to seek a higher order; I just attributed it to “whatever, that’s life” & moved on. Sounds great when I write it that way, but when I look back now, those times in my life were when I felt the loneliest & most defeated.

I’m not sure exactly when I started to believe again, which is interesting in its own right because I just told you the exact moment when I stopped. Anyway, over many years, in a “slow & steady wins the race” kind of mentality, my faith slowly began to resurface. I didn’t throw a tantrum when we had religious events at home (my parents would always kick my ass anyway, but at least now they didn’t have to go through that whole absurd process anymore), I walked into the temple & paid my respects at least, and I did pray here and there for my family’s well being and for myself as well. Fast forward what I presume to be 10 years later to the present day. At 32, I can say I’ve become faithful again. Over the course of the past 4 months, both of my parents almost lost their lives and in the process, I nearly lost my everything, including my mind (thank God[s], they are both doing well now). In what is something that I deem entirely inexplicable, during this time, I experienced a pure faith resurgence to a level that I didn’t even have as a child, but we’ll chalk that up to less experience & understanding back then. While in the hospital with my dad for 3 days in late October and in two hospitals for 5 days + 3 weeks with my mom from January-February, I dug out the little Zip-Loc bag holding what had been labeled my “crew” almost 2 decades ago. A little plastic baggie that I had been carrying on & off for years filled with pocket-sized religious hymn books, small deities, etcetera, that had only ever been taken to exams in college or medical school and on plane rides. I [barely] slept on a recliner at each hospital with it attached to my side, one earphone plugged into my ear playing religious songs on an iTunes loop, and just imagined that these deities were in front of me in real life, from all different walks of life, & I would simply pray for one thing; that my parents would be okay (I still do this every night, only now, I thank Them all). In the beginning, it was more of a mind-diverting activity, just something to do to keep my mind off of the scarier things that were happening. But over time, I felt a palpable shift in energy within myself & outside of myself. I suppose it’s something you can only explain to someone else who has felt it, or actually in that case, you probably wouldn’t have to explain anything at all, but it was there. I began to have the depth of a feeling I had never felt before and I still couldn’t tell you what it is now, so I just keep calling it faith, but it’s more complex and intuitive than that (it’s like an Ivy Leaguer in the institutional hierarchy of emotions). It’s moved me to a point where I’ve been in tears because of it, it helps curb impressive anxiety attacks at times, it gave me the actual inner desire to go to the temple three times a week, & it has provided me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I cannot soon repay; and I can honestly say, I cannot remember the last time I prayed for myself. I inherently know what is most important to me & as long as I can graciously express thankfulness and gracefully ask for protection for my beloveds, I’m pretty sure Someone(s) up there or out there has got my back. (I completely forgot how much I loved that “Footprints In The Sand” poem until I started writing this post & I think my family has been “carried” a lot lately).

This isn’t meant to be an insane preachy Peter Popoff post. Let me reassure you of that right now. And also, sorry if it came off that way. But I promise I will not attempt to change your beliefs, I will not ask you to donate to my life fund, & I will not mail you Holy Water vials of any kind. You will also not be a witness to any miraculous occurrences, & for that one, I apologize! It’s simply a sentiment that I wanted to bring to light because I have an inkling that there are probably many of you out there like me. You may have suffered a hiccup in your faith in something, whatever it may be, and it may remain long gone or it may have resurfaced, but I’m sure (I hope!) plenty of people out there have had this experience and sometimes it’s nice to put something out there that may make someone else feel less alone. I know I felt extremely alone and even somewhat guilty in my faithless phase. That’s why I just urge you to put your belief in something. In anything. Believe in religion, believe in a higher power, believe in energy, believe in gratitude, believe in meditation; hell, believe in logic! But believe, wholeheartedly, in something..because it may help you find something you didn’t even know you were looking for.

P.S. My brother is an admitted atheist and while we don’t understand each other in that respect, his unwavering belief in logic and practicality is a spectacular thing to experience.

And if you’re not in the mood for any of the above, fear not, for in the immortal words of Diana King: I’ll say a little prayer for you.

“Today’s Interlude” is an excerpt from a New York Times article (linked below) that really hit home for me. But though there are no instruments, this poetry is still just as melodic.

“Dear God,” I begin,”Whatever we call you / Wherever we find you / in the laughter of our children / the tenderness of our parents / the strength of our brothers and sisters and friends/the closeness of our companions and husbands and wives. / In the arc of the pelican/the leap of the mullet, / the perfect sunny day / or incoming storm / In whatever ways we understand you, / in a church or synagogue or mosque, / or on a beach beneath a starry sky, / we offer gratitude for this day.” -Roy Hoffman, “Remembering To Pray”

Below, some art pieces I did during bouts of questioning, insomnia, and belief.

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