By Deepti Belliappa Ganapathy
It's a semi colon and not a full stop. It's a pause, not yet the end. I bear no marking on my body, but it's etched in my heart always reminding me that this struggle is real. I yearned to be heard and not given advice, I hoped to be in peace. More than a decade later, I have found solace in the power of the word. I write to remember and not to forget.
My ink stained memories of this struggle will always be draped in purple or teal as I hope the narrative is changed. I choose to not be anonymous and unmute. My life struggle is not a story of surviving through having nothing in my hand instead it's the struggle of staying on the surface when the mind drowns in nothingness. For some, it may seem trivial, but for this heart, it's been real. To be at the edge and then step back, was a fight of the mind over heart, but coming out, owning my life and looking back not in regret, learning lessons along the way, has been a journey worth defining.
I have a story like any other, some parts told, some untold. What has been told, has moved hearts, filled them with tears or smiled with joy. I may never do justice in words to my learnings, but my attempt will only remind me what it is like to be grateful.
At a time when I understood relationships, emotions and the depth of memories, destiny had a strange charter for me. It seemed inexplicable at that time from every angle but it was a cold hand played by fate. A few years apart but our world crumbled as we faced the unbearable loss of my father and brother, both with differing circumstances- one with an accident and other through an illness. A family of four had now shrunk to two, a scenario none of us had imagined. The disappointing shades of our society forces us to behave in regressive ways. The judging ecosystem compels the teenager to be the strong support system and shield the mourning family. It’s an odd and heart-breaking moment to not be understood by people who claim to be built with intelligence and experience yet lacking in sensitivity and acceptance to an already broken situation. We both mourned secretly but remained collected. There were emotions we did not understand but we knew we were together in this. Struggling circumstances taught us the value of friends becoming family and the fragility of relationships which couldn’t stand the test of time with the storm of material clashes. From this phase I earned the privilege of my inspiration, in the form of my mother who had evolved into someone so strong and independent. She was able to laugh with all her heart and aspired to live life positively. She had been hurt so many times, that caution seemed like the best approach in relationships. Her generosity had me inspired while she is equally careful. She knew the value of being able to smile in the most unusual circumstances. These early losses forced me to grow beyond my years yet the confidence to get professional help almost seemed like a taboo at that time. In retrospect, the words of a friend who believed I never mourned enough often echo leaving me in wonder. The harsh reality is that it's the tears you don't cry that drown you.
Like an insta reel, we move on to the next phase with a quick swipe. Life's fleeting moments wait for no one. The past struggle is brushed away as we focus on being smitten in the spring of life. Marriage, children or career highlights take precedence.
In marriage, we had every shade of emotion in this companionship. It was not a fairy-tale, but the reality of this equation always had strength, dependability and a different calm. There are times, when it almost seemed impossible but defined boundaries and willingness to compromise made it worth the effort. Soon we were going to be blessed with our second bundle of joy but destiny had a strange twist in our story.
A medical error by the anaesthesiologist complicated the procedure. Soon I had experienced several complications that had signed me up for a long standing equation with the medical fraternity in order to aspire for any sort of recovery and hope. In this time, having faced a near death situation, it had crumbled the morale of every close equation.
There was scare, uncertainty while being gripped with pain and helplessness to not be able to mother my toddler and the new born. Being plugged to the ventilator, shook my inner circle, but waking up to my limited mobility shook my core. The confused medical fraternity, associated my struggle with issues of the mind while they had no answer to treating me. I had become a subject of study for several doctors, while shifting my care between hospitals. The daunting sounds of wailing by the mentally unsound patients from the corridors of this acclaimed hospital deep into the night stayed with me for many years. It was a cry that will always haunt my soul. The unclear doctor consultations, the beeps in the operation theatres, the buzz of the many MRI's, the high doses of steroids administered on a trial, the unsuccessful surgical procedures had my patience tested beyond my resilience. With every passing day, I found my hope deteriorating, my confidence was vanishing and I knew I was truly lost.
The fear in the eyes of my loved ones, hoping to handle me with care, reminded me of my helplessness. The experience of having my two and half year old hold my hand in support and call for help, on seeing me collapse next to her, broke me to pieces. I was slated to be her anchor but my suffering had brought fear in her eyes. I wondered if I had already broken her before I could build her into a self-defining individual. I had not had the opportunity to cherish the early memories with my new born, who had to progress to being bottle fed from her first day. I had shattered beyond repair I imagined.
Standing on the 8th floor balcony, looking down, all I could imagine was feeling free while falling down. That moment felt liberating. There was no fear, pain or hesitation. It felt like the simplest way to escape every emotion that had captured me within. Every single time there after at the balcony had the same 'escape'. With the passing days it got stronger and I felt less connected to every human equation around me. I appeared calm, but inside I was filled with rage. I would smile in pretence, but my heart cried with confusion. I needed the 'escape'. Suddenly one day while walking down the stairs holding the hand of my little one, I almost slipped down. My first instinct was to grab and protect her. I saw fear in her eyes and realised I didn't need that 'escape'. I needed to 'reset' and become the mother to my children again. I needed to take control of losing myself to the unknown. I needed to find my strength from within and start a conversation with myself. The power was within me, I just had to find it.
I decided to isolate myself from the fear stricken eyes of my family and look forward for my strength in a place I comfort myself. It was self-inflicted time out. I headed to Pune to be with my 'friends like family' who always welcomed me with open arms and no judgement whatsoever. I got my space to rejuvenate, be mindful and find ways to take back my life reins.
Once back home, while the mind was finding its bearings the body found solace in nature cure which became the light at the end of our medical struggle. While allopathy teased with no respite, nature cure eased gradually for sure. It was a slow journey, but I had made up my mind for this testing ride. The side effect of the medicines taken was a consequence I had to face, sadly for this lifetime, but I was willing to brave it. A struggling walk, the noticeable limp, the jerky knee, the swollen face, the unexplained weight and the struggle to find the smile were visuals in this horror story. The glances from all around as they chanced a gaze on me feeling sorry for my struggle was discomforting.
The leg had to find its strong footing again, so I had to build this myself. Gradual walks at 4 am slowly transpired to slow jogs and then paced runs. Soon I could combat the first 5 km run, which had me jubilant beyond control. When I finished this timed race with a medal in hand and the family waiting at the finish line, I trembled not in fear, but because I was truly overwhelmed. The once shaken mother, now so proud, the protective husband now with a gleaming smile, the fearing toddler now grown two years more while the new born had her own speeding milestones as they both welcomed my victory with hugs. I was not in the top 3 neither did I set a record of any sort, but I was a winner in their eyes. That made this run the best I ever did.
This journey was unpleasant and hard to forgive, but embracing it made it a worthy effort. The highs and lows are ongoing as there are still some not so great days, but the journey has taught me to embrace with grace and optimism. Depression and sadness is not in silos. It's not a thing of the past, it's in my present packed in different ways but now I am braver to smile. My view of life and equations have evolved, I am not driven by any materialistic joy, instead celebrating life, mindless gifting and seeing simple joys in small moments has found more meaning.
I have seen pain, immobility, uncertainty, sadness, and anger all in these years. There are true horror stories around us, with people grappling with so much in their lives that my story will seem shallow. But each has their struggle and this was mine to sail. Suicide seemed like the closest confidant in this turmoil. It's not because I was weak and selfish as most perceive it to be. It is the depth of the struggle that makes death look like a better option. In this struggle, often the inner circle hopes to be the wave of hope, the shoulder to lean on and the unending yet concerned advice. But many times, it's none of these, which the closest equations fail to understand. It's the yearning to accept that there is a problem, seeking professional guidance without judgement or the worry of being shamed by society, and the willingness to make that reset.
In this journey, I have seen my loved ones, holding me in unconditionally. If there was sadness, this support was the happiness. Writing was my channel to the heart and every word found its wings. When you write for your soul, your core hears the voice. I write for my heart, while my readers hear my whispers. After two books published so far and the third in progress, I am a cherished bearer of words. I seize my time in a day or grant myself and escape with travel free from any guilt whatsoever. I might appear selfish to some but these momentary pauses for self-care has more value than most imagine.
As a person I have grown leap and bounds. I am strong, yet dependant on emotions, I am a dreamer of relationships and I am a traveller by heart. I am not a doting mother, but their best friend. I am a disaster in the kitchen, but the queen of the family's heart. I often wonder if I have done enough to make everyone proud, but never fall short of love, friendship, dependability and being their anchor. I am a friend to many, to the best of what I can be. I have a temper, but I also laugh. I hurt quickly but forgive in the same charm. Tears have kept me real and laughter has kept me high. I miss a career in the corporate set up but I say this with no regrets – I wanted a family, and I got one in perfection
To the family I am the high energy force that manoeuvres through the house oscillating between madness and championing celebrating little life moments. To the extended family, I am the coaxing presence that insists on capturing every milestone with photos or a story. To my friends I am forever to some, a strong inspiration to others or the coffee respite to a few for that much sought after me time. For the fur baby I am his world. For the sea, I am me - my weakest and strongest, all in one breath.
The daily chaos, the routine grind, the unbearable losses, the painful rewind, the friendship that couldn't survive the time are all weaved into the tapestry of life. This fabric is strengthened with our own belief.
An excerpt from one of my poems, shattered reflections resonates this mantra for me.
The shattered reflections remind me for sure,
Be your own person that will be your only cheer.
Have that circle to call your own,
But be prepared to walk the journey all alone.
There are invisible scars for sure,
Holding me together, coping with every fear.
The world sees the facade of the strength I know,
Inside I am a little girl with shattered reflections that grow.
By Deepti Belliappa Ganapathy
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