Life Update: There is None

If I can be particularly honest I must tell you that I am forcing myself to write this tonight. I literally pep talked myself for the last half an hour, pushing my obdurate butts to sit in front of my laptop and write, Not that haven’t done this in the past twenty days but it hasn’t worked. Not sure if it will today.

Maybe we’ll know if I can finish this. The activity itself feels so alienated that I am finding it hard to believe not a very long ago, I used to connect words and joint the sentences that would make sense to a fairly large community of people. However, I also want to be forgiving myself and believe that it is nothing to do with skill and ability. rather the fact that I have lost the touch with the activity for a while now. I think one of the most difficult feelings to overcome is when we lose a sense of direction in what we do. A big reason to wake up every day is to have a purpose in life and work towards it. This thing, this purpose, makes us want to do better, not procrastinate, learn more, and also be hopeful on occasions. So it’s quite detrimental when we lose that connection that holds our purpose and our life together like a PBJ sandwich and begins to question our existence in large. What’s bread to do without peanut butter and jelly?

Sometimes I do wish I didn’t think this way. What if the whole point of life was to be merry, cherish the happy fleeting moments, survive the rest and die. Ah, perhaps I’ll be this utopian person in my next birth. This life I spend questioning existence and getting drowned in it once in a while. I didn’t intend to be inactive here tbh. It started with being busy entrepreneur-ing and family-ing however it did lead to seeping into a dark place, episodes in the washroom, questioning my whole life, subjecting myself to hate and watch hope disappear into a tunnel. And just like that, it’s almost a month. But that apart, if I could tell you all a secret that I hate admitting myself. I didn’t miss social media at all. It’s weird because I used to spend a ridiculous amount of time on it, scary because a large part of my earnings depends on it, funny because I had sort of predicted it but most importantly it’s a relief because it re-affirms the fact that my identity and life is made of many little and big things that go hand in hand with my existence in social media. I refuse to let the latter overpower. This post is a testimony that I am showing up here once again for whatever it's worth and on days when I don’t feel like shit, I like sharing parts of my life with all of you, listening to your stories and having a platform to document my roller-coaster journey. I hope you do the same otherwise there’s no point to it really. One of my most favourite things to do at home is to sit with the family and listen to stories about my childhood from a time I bleakly or don't remember. My family however vividly remembers and narrates them, these stories, and it often feels like reading a book with my favourite character who isn't me but I can strangely relate to.

My cousin shared one, last evening, about how as a one and a half year old baby, I would sit on the table and try (pretty successfully) to eat my food with my own hands. At that age, I'd learnt how to mix fish curry with rice and had apparently fed a ball to her with utmost precision, careful enough to not drop a morsel of it. My mother brought up another story where as a two and half year old, I ate masala fried crab all by myself by a sea beach in Orissa and pooped all throughout the journey thereafter.

Love and light