Freaking out when your period is late

A delayed 'period' (or "part of the menstrual cycle when a woman bleeds from her vagina for a few days"  -NHS) is never fun. Freaking out when your period is late is normal, right? The days (or, God forbid, weeks!) leading up to it, are nothing short of hell though! Here are the 10 phases of near-hell that I recently survived...

10.Before period was due
Could I be pregnant? That would be so cool! I hope it's twins :P

9.A couple of days late...
Shit! What if I am actually pregnant?? Does that really mean no alcohol? Do I even want kids?

8.Almost a week and no period...
Time for a pregnancy test. I don't feel pregnant, but what if I am? What if my fat is hiding a baby within? With my belly, it is quite possible! Maybe I just need to lose some weight. Maybe it's the change of place. But I need to be sure it's not a baby!

7.When the test says NOT pregnant!
Mixed feelings. I was kinda thinking of ways to announce my pregnancy while I waited for the stick to work the result. Well, thank God I am not pregnant! I wish I was though...wouldn't it be nice to have a baby or two? Am I too old to get pregnant?

6.Ten days late and still no sign of blood...
The typical PMS is starting to show. I can positively tell that I will be down by the end of the day today. At the most by tomorrow. These mood swings can't get any worse! Maybe I should try to find some papaya? 

5.Second pregnancy test.
It is day no.13 now. This is starting to get creepy. What if I am actually pregnant? There was something about false negatives I had read. Why did I have that glass of wine!? I wish my baby isn't born deformed!!!

4.Alarm bells ringing
What? another negative???! What if I have hit menopause? What if something's really really wrong with me on the inside? What if I am taking this too casually. Let me figure out how to get an appointment with a gynaecologist! 

3.Over two weeks later...
It's never been this late. I have even started going to the gym (well, OK, I just went once, but still!)! Must ask mom. I am officially freaking out now. Are these real cramps or just wishful thinking on my part? I feel fat and ugly and sleepy. And fat! And low. And did I say fat?

2.I'm NEVER gonna have my period.
Gotta see a doctor. Enough delay already! This might be a sign. Maybe my reproductive system ha gone on a long vacation. I hope this can be cured. What will I do with all those sanitary pads if I never have a period again?

1.Almost 3 weeks after due date...
Wtf! I am going to be reckless and wear my new silky panty. Can't let the fear of staining ruin my life! Out for a lovely dinner with the husband and, ta-da! Out with the blood! Woohoo! The choke up is finally clearing out! Thank you God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Jokes apart though, my armchair research tells me that delayed periods could result from various causes, which include but are not limited to - PCOD, weight gain/loss, acute change in weather, high stress and hormonal imbalance. I am due to see a gynae soon. If you or anyone you know is going through any menstruation related complications, don't ignore it. Reproductive health is important. Take care!

She sat with her back to the rest of them. She stared at her screen, listening in to every single word they said. Mentally joining the conversation with witty come backs and silly anecdotes. She did not mean to eves-drop. She was struggling to find the balance between cool and needy, awkward and self-assured, confident and anxious. Every. Single. Moment.

She hesitated to join the conversation - often wondering if it would be rude. Worried that they would suddenly go quiet, again. So she pretended to be busy. Typing or reading. All the while waiting for some cue to join in. Half-hoping that they would ask her a question, easing her way into the discussion. That never happened though. After a few minutes, she became supremely conscious of the fact that she was the only one in the room who was silent. Who was not 'included'. Maybe they were talking about her? Gesturing about how weird she was to always be quiet. If only they could hear the turmoil she experienced.

Every day she told herself that she would make an effort, that she wouldn't care about a possible reaction, that she would just be herself. But she WAS being herself. She was shy, and reserved and self-conscious. She didn't want any special treatment, she just wanted them to be a little welcoming. Maybe it was unrealistic to wish for this. After all, it was not their job to make her comfortable. She had to do it for herself. But it just wasn't happening. She had to admit she was doing better than before. She didn't feel her heart pounding out of her chest every time she heard her colleagues start a conversation. Initially it was the dilemma of whether or not to join the conversation. Now it was the pressure of not creating an impression that she was...that she was someone weird and rude and mean and didn't care to join them in their talks.

The people who knew and loved her couldn't understand. They were unable to comprehend why someone so cheerful and friendly was finding it so challenging to fit in. Truth was, she was not sure herself. Yet this was the reality she lived with every day. It was not a catastrophe. It was not like her world was crashing down. Yes, she was uncomfortable. But she knew she would get used to the discomfort too. Perhaps that scared her more than anything.

Waiting - the movie

Saw this movie a few weeks ago and knew that this one I got to write about! :) To be very honest, it did not live up to my expectations. That is not to say that it isn't a great movie. It is. I was expecting something much more gripping though!

Anyway, so as the trailer suggests the movie reflects on two very different individuals' experience of "waiting" for their respective partners to wake up from a state of coma. The contrast is brought out by Shiv - effortlessly portrayed by Naseeruddin Shah - as the older, more seasoned 'waiter' and Tara - an effervescent, recently married,  expletive spouting young woman played by Kalki Koechlin. It's about how we are alone in our grief and how two very different people bond over a common misfortune.

There is a point in the narrative when Tara is struggling to come to terms with the reality of her husband's accident, and Shiv explains the "stages of grief" in a manner that would have done Elizabeth Kubler-Ross proud! It's too textbook to tug at your heart-strings though. Maybe that's what the movie is missing. I would have loved to see more depth in the narrative. Perhaps covering a longer period of time. And the open-to-interpretation conclusion may not go well with a lot of people. That's just my perspective though. The movie is definitely worth a watch!

She was trying to speak between violent sobs. And I was directing all my energy to my ears, struggling to comprehend her words. Three things became evident pretty soon. She was in distress. She was in a vulnerable place. And she was desperate for help. I was petrified to be on the receiving end of this 'crisis call'. To be absolutely honest, in the first few moments when all I could hear was a wailing woman, I contemplated hanging up on the pretext of not being able to hear what she said. I am not sure whether it was fear of being pulled up if the call was audited or something more meaningful that made me hang on. I would like to believe it was the latter!
She said she wanted to end her suffering. That it was getting too much to bear. I asked her to promise me that she wouldn't do anything to hurt herself. She refused. My heart sank to my toes when she told me of her plan as well as access to means for harming herself. There are knives in the kitchen, she admitted quietly. I was at a loss for words. My mind seemed to have slowed down. A voice inside me was screaming, say something! Anything! You have to save her! 'But how?' asked a smaller, more timid voice.
After what seemed like forever, I told her not to go to the kitchen as long as we were on phone together. To my immense relief, she agreed! She started to share her heart-breaking tale. I wanted to comfort her. To reassure her. Yet, I was at a complete loss of words. I probably asked some mindless questions. I can't be too sure. She said something about writing a letter to her daughter and 'ending it'. Before I could react, she hung up!
I have never been more disappointed and scared at the same time. With alarm bells ringing in my head, it seemed as though every single nerve in my body was taut with tension. My manager suggested I call her again. She rejected the call. I tried again. And this time she picked it. Relief, nervousness, fear...I felt it all at once - electrifying my very being. I tried to keep this out of my voice, and requested her to stay with me. 'Don't talk if you don't want to,' I said, 'but stay on line with me please.' Again, to my immense relief, she agreed.
The 20 odd minutes that followed, till we connected her with her mental health worker, were... I don't really have words for what they were. I wanted her to know how much I wanted her to live. But I didn't know how to. She said she was scared. I wanted to say 'so am I'. Instead, I tried being strong for her. Tried distracting her and 'holding' her. Every few seconds I repeated her name and asked if she was there. Every time I asked her to take a deep breath, I did too. I wonder what that was like for her. Was she feeling frustrated by my feeble attempts? Or was she grateful to have another person with her in this? Either way, I am immensely grateful to her for letting me be with her. For my sake more than hers. Because I know how badly this would have haunted me if I did not have the reassurance that she was in safe hands.
That was then. I have no way of knowing what happened after. Did she get the much needed support? Did things get any better for her? I don't know. But I am hoping that she knows, that she is not alone. Then again, I wonder, what was my desperation all about. Was it because I didn't want her to kill herself on 'my watch'? Or because I genuinely wanted her to live. Either way, it was a draining experience. And I am glad she called in.

Tears

If you'd pause to think, you would see
my tears hold the answers that you seek
do you really seek answers, i often wonder
for i don't hear you pause
i hear your questions
and the anguish behind them
and i wish i could put the tears into words
but i can't
they flow, when there are no words.
i have always been
at a loss for spoken word
smiles and tears i am easy with.
my tears are not a means
to seek vengeance or to hurt
to punish or to rub in.
they are an expression
of a girl who is at a loss for spoken words.

Memories

My stomach hurt from laughing so much. This man had a wicked wicked sense of humor! I don't think I have laughed like this for decades now. As a divorced, reclusive workaholic 50-something, I did not give myself much opportunity to lighten up and enjoy.

I met J on an online dating site. I am quite a skeptic when it comes to connecting with people via internet. Call me conservative, old-school, whatever. I just don't think it's safe! But a friend of mine - one of the few non-work-humans I am in regular contact with - created a 'profile' for me and insisted on playing the matchmaker. I am not sure what made me indulge her, but I did. And I must admit, I'm glad about it!

The first person to 'express interest' in my profile was J. His profile described him as a teenager trapped in a middle-aged man's body. I found that funny; and with more than necessary goading from my friend, I started talking to him through chat. Our interests matched on many levels, and differed on many more. I had never come across anyone like J. He seemed to have interests ranging from wine to cricket, Harry Potter to Jagjit Singh, World wars to cottage industries. He seemed to know something about everything. He had strong opinions about politics, philosophy, science, economics, the list seemed endless! Yet somehow, he seemed real, grounded. Not once did I feel out of my depth or that I was interacting with a pretentious douche. After almost a week of near constant chatter about everything under the sun, J suggested we meet (his exact words: "'coz frankly my dear...my fingers hurt from all the typing!"). 

So here we are, 5 hours after we first met in person - having the best time I have had in years. To be completely honest, I don't think I am attracted to J. I don't think he is attracted to me either. But he seems like a terrific person. He reminds me of my ex-wife in some weird way. We were great together. She was my best friend for the longest time. My pillar of support, my confidante, my strength. No, it's not how you think it is. We did not part ways because I am gay. She knew about it. Maybe not when she fell in love with me...but soon after. 

We were really young then. Maybe it was foolish to get married knowing fully well that we would never be everything that the other wanted. But this was the 1980s. I couldn't dare to openly declare my sexuality. I don't think I can do it even today! I was not too sure about my sexuality either... But both of us were sure of one thing - that we loved each other's company. And in the innocence and recklessness of our youth, decided that that was all it would take for us to live happily ever after. Our families gladly consented to the match. 

Neither of us realized how frustrating it would get - and how soon! Not just because there was no sex in the marriage. We had an unsaid understanding. Both of us could gratify our sexual needs outside the marriage. I was naive enough to believe that this arrangement was flawless. I was in for a shock when 4 years after our marriage - almost 10 years since we had known each other - she declared that she was pregnant. And that she thought it was best to raise the child with its biological father. Needless to say, I  was devastated. I felt cheated, used. Why couldn't she just have sex without getting attached? I even tried reasoning with her. Told her that we could raise the child as our own. I would be the best father there ever was. She trampled over my heart by telling me that she did not love me anymore. That both of us were not in college now and one of us had to be an adult an put an end to our crazy "social experiment" that we called marriage. 

'Don't tell me you missed my finest joke!' J's voice jolted me back to the present. I couldn't keep reminiscing over something that happened almost 20 years ago. Why then, did it still feel so fresh? Why did it still hurt so bad?

losing Dennis

It's been over 4 years since Dennis died. He was just a little over 10 at that time. The good thing is, I can talk about him happily. Reminisce the years we spent with him. The not-so-happy part is…I still miss him soooo much!! Life would never be lonely if he was around. He'd keep me on my toes. He'd go crazy wagging his tail every time I returned home. He'd never let any moment be dull…

Sometimes I think of adopting a dog again. Now that the intense grief has subsided, maybe I am ready? But then I think of the time I lost Dennis. And the years that followed. I still cry when I think of that. I know so many people who have had numerous pets over the years. I am not saying they don't feel the pain when they lose a pet. But I can't imagine putting myself through it all over again. Then again…sometimes I wonder…maybe the unconditional love that a dog gives you makes the pain worthwhile? Maybe we need that sort of pain to be able to value love?

Losing Dennis was like losing a part of my life…a big furry chunk of it. I was in the 8th grade when we brought him home. It wasn't always easy having him around…but it was always fun. He was everything a dog should be - happy, friendly, loving, forgiving and always hungry :) He was probably what all people should be too!! Pretty soon, he became an indispensable part of my family and my life. Every morning, be greeted by his big goofy grin and a vigorous wagging of tail…if by chance I slept a little longer than usual he'd be on top of me…sniffing at my face and walking over me till I gave up and rolled out of bed. Till date, I hate waking up…but it wasn't so bad when Dennis woke me…I just couldn't be mad at him :)

A few years later, when my brother and I went off to college, I know for a fact that he played a Big role in helping my mum cope with the empty nest. He was the son who didn't abandon her. He was always there, no matter what. But then he wasn't. He got really sick. And the bleak possibility that he could die started materialising. It felt like the most awful time.

I still miss him so much.

A plane with over 200 people on board has been missing for two weeks. News reports today say that it has crashed and that there are no survivors. My heart goes out to the family and friends of the passengers and crew of MH 370.

It is a terrible tragedy. But there is something worse off than this. And that is what we have become. A couple of days after the aircraft disappeared, there was speculation regarding what could have gone wrong. Theories ranging from hijacking to alien abductions. Without a shred of evidence, news agencies and "experts" were making allegations about passengers' mental health and intent. The pilot and other crew on board were not spared either. I find that deeply disturbing. Yes, one tends to wonder what could have gone wrong in the face of such a mysterious disappearance. But making assumptions in the public sphere..tainting people's characters with such ease... What a sorry state to be in! In all probability, the crew and the people on board would have tried their very best to survive...to escape the fate that awaited them. But it seems as though sensationalism wins at the cost of sensitivity. What fun is it to imagine that a technical flaw occurred and the plane went down despite the pilot's best efforts? Nah! Sounds so much more exciting when you hint at sabotage. Ugh! Where is our decency? Our ability to face uncertainty by giving a little benefit of doubt!

God

From as long back as I can remember, I have been a believer. I have no religious inclinations, but I'd like to call myself spiritual. I have believed that there is a person/thing called God - who is no less than a super-hero. Probably owing to my christian school upbringing, I picture this God to be a male with frail physical appearance but abundant inner strength. He can do Anything. His job description is quite straightforward - to guide and protect. Everyone and everything. He is the one who created this world. He is the care-taker of it all. Maybe he delegates some of this stuff to guardian angels, I've never been too sure. But I know that I don't have to pass through a mediator to get in touch with him. He is ever ready to listen; to answer my 'prayers'. He knows everything. He is fair in his dealings. He makes sure the bad guys get punished. His functioning doesn't always follow logic but he does what is best for everyone. But he is no dictator. He is kind. He gives us choice, he gives free will.

Recent events, however, have made me question all of these beliefs. Of course, it was easier to hold on to them as a child...of course they seem a little flimsy in the face of reason. But that's not the cause of my concern. I have the tendency to be adamant in the most unlikely situations. I can happily turn a deaf ear and be in complete denial of cold facts if I so wish. But that somehow doesn't work where personal tragedies (for the lack of a less dramatic word that fits the bill) are concerned.

The God I believed in did not "test" to show favour. He did not have to be satiated with a particular kind of conduct. He did not make me stumble over hurdles every time I started walking :( I can't make sense of the way things are panning out. And I can't find an alternative to my belief system. This state of non-believing...or the absence of familiar beliefs is quite disturbing... Even more so when it concerns the people I love. Seeing them suffer, and being able to do nothing to end this suffering...I hate the helplessness of the situation. Which is why I find myself thinking...if there really was a God...the kind that I believed in....would he have allowed this to happen? Would he not have intervened sooner? Would he not protect 'good' from 'evil'?

I love surprises. It doesn't matter whether it's big or small...whether it's a material object or a gesture or a surprise visit...what makes surprises so special is that they make me feel special. The joy of knowing that someone cares enough for that smile of yours...of knowing that they made an effort to put together something just to see the look on your face :)

I have been blessed with more than my fair share of surprises. My first memory of a surprise was when I was 8 or 9 I think. I have always loved animals. Always wanted a pet. And like most parents, mine wouldn't let me have one. So I had to settle by 'adopting' stray pups and kittens. To be honest I hardly adopted, but was adopted by them! They were fulfilling my need to love animals...I wasn't really doing much for them, apart from an occasional saucer of milk or slice of bread...Anyway, coming back to my first surprise...

It was during one of the summer holidays, most of which I spent at my nani's in Mulund. Those were fun times. With cousin nanis, nanas, mamas n maasis living close by. Me and my brother spent a lot of time at their places. The adulation was hard to pass...we were the only grandchildren for a long long time :D So, on one such day, close to the end of hols, we went to my cousin nana's place in the evening. Just like that. (when did i stop going to people's places JLT?!..it used to be so effortless!) And he asked me to go to the kitchen, to see if I found anything 'different'. Given my bleak observation skills, it was no surprise that I found nothing different. But I was more curious as a child than I am now, so I was just snooping through the things kept on the counter...and guess what I saw in one vessel?!?!?! There, swimming timidly in a huge steel bowl was a beautiful little tortoise!!!!! He'd bought it for me! You can't imagine how I felt at that moment! Or maybe you can...

The point is...he died today. And I'm reminded of all the awesome things he did. Not just the tortoise incident (which, BTW was a HUGE milestone in my life)...I feel swept under a wave of nostalgia. So many parts n people from my childhood are no more....the change feels overwhelming.

It's been almost a year. And over the last 12 months I have tried at least 1200 times to write about Dennis. But every time I started, I would find it impossible to carry on. Found it way too overwhelming to go on. I would start out with a happy thought about him...and in no time, bam! I could see those last few days and I was a goner. I would think, okay, it's been x months now, surely I'm more in control. Every single time I thought that, I would disappoint myself by breaking down. Looking back, it almost seems like set pattern. (Think about Dennis - feel thankful about the good times - start to pen down something about him - be reminded of his death - cry myself to sleep). But it wasn't. Every time, I was as surprised by my reaction as always. The frequency of the crying spells reduced...the intensity did not. I hardly talked about this. Whenever I did talk about Dennis, it was with a wistful smile and a complete lack of pain. I don't know why it was so easy to talk about his life in someone's company...and so impossible to even think about him when I was alone.

It's still the same. And lately, those last 3-4 days keep running through my mind. Very vivid images. I remember what I wore. I remember when I slept. I remember the song playing on the radio. It still isn't easy to talk about that time. But I have spoken to A and M about it. And even talked about the whole thing in a counselling practice session. It doesn't make things easier. Sure, it is wonderful to know that there are people who care. Yet, I know no one will know. And it isn't anybody's fault. My pain is my own. My guilt is my own. No one else can see my memories...how will they ever understand?!

In which case, why, you may think, am I writing this at all? I wanted the post to be about Dennis. But it ended up being about me. What does that say about me and my belief that grief is very personal, no one really knows what someone else is going through? Well yes, I still believe that no one will know my pain the way I do. But now, after having spoken about it, I also believe that shutting people out isn't the best way to deal with it. They wouldn't know till you tell them what it is like. You might not have the words right now, but try. And it will help them get closer to your reality. Help you to understand your pain better. And eventually, maybe in some tiny little way, make the pain grow dimmer. 'Coz that's what we really want, isn't it? At least that is what I want. I want to remember him fondly, not with remorse. And I never ever want to forget him or 'get over him'.

if i shut my mind and don't let myself think

if i pretend that there is lots to do and hardly any time

then the pain doesn't seem so bad...it is negligible.

it's almost as if nothing happened

i've been trying

and i am getting better

at fooling myself into believing that everything is okay

but if i drop my guard for even a moment

the flood of emotions is too overpowering...

i'm doing quite well

if i say so myself

maybe, if i try a lil harder, i will forget about the pain.

Pain

This is an ooooooold diary entry...and it's here as an answer to all my '"why me's"...and to remind me that 'dard mein kuch toh baat hai' :)

I met an old friend last night...Pain. We share a strange relationship. I hate him..and he seems to love me. 'Coz no matter what I do to drive him away, he keeps coming back...wrenching my body...wringing out all my energy...and making me feel utterly helpless!
But, he's still my best buddy...b'coz even though he torments my body, he rejuvenates my soul. Every time he comes visiting, he brings along a lesson on optimism...on hope. And each time I succeed in doing away with him, he succeeds in making me a stronger person. Each encounter with him makes me think, 'if I could go through That, i can go through anything!'.
What seemed like a curse once, is in fact a boon. My friend, dear Pain, hope to see you again soon!