A Sense of Self Worth

I took a six month sabbatical from work and the general worries of life to experience the bliss and pleasures of a peaceful and stress-free life. I also prayed to God daily to reveal my true creative expression to me. By the end of this period, I would clearly know my true vocation that would bring me endless joy and fulfilment.

The six months were incredible, a chapter straight from a fairy tale. I enrolled for art and music classes. I went for bicycle rides in my neighbourhood literally catching butterflies in the air. I went for long coffee dates with friends, read books by my favourite authors and watched mindless cinema. I spent time meditating and doing yoga, connecting with nature and doing self- introspection.  It was really as I had envisaged it to be – peaceful and blissful.

However, every fairy tale has an ending. As I approached the end of my six months honeymoon period, my savings started dipping, and I started panicking. I still had no clear answers about my right vocation. I had a plenitude of interests and I enjoyed them all, but there was still no clear focus.

There was the dreaded thought –  I may have to join back the very job that I had quit a long while back with the intention of never looking back in that direction. These thoughts started tormenting me, and the old voices came back, “You are a loser.” ‘God has been so mean to me, I really prayed hard for clarity in this area of my life.” “I have wasted all this time. I should have picked up a public speaking or communication course that would have added to my resume, rather than the art and music classes.” “Despite the peaceful time, I still could not connect well with myself to figure out my true creative expression.” “You have lost again.” The voices continued to haunt me.

I continued to pray, meditate, write and share. Somewhere down the line, as the anguish started became unbearable and I could feel myself breaking down, a sudden shift happened. The shift was not in my environment but in my perspective.

New, nurturing voices started filling up my mind space. “I have not wasted time. All my life I have made conscious choices - choices I thought were best at that particular point in time, best for my happiness and survival. Even today, my choices are geared in that direction.”

 I took a hard look at all the events of my life, and suddenly all the choices and decisions that I had made in my life made sense to me. There were no bad decisions, no bad choices. Each one of them had been necessary for my existence and for my growth.

As I went through all the disappointments and achievements of my life, a powerful sense of empowerment enveloped me. I possessed the life skills, strengths and attitude to win the toughest battles of my life. I was a winner with an amazing grit and determination.

And while earlier I had been undervaluing myself when applying for jobs, I now decided to apply for top management jobs. If I had done all that I had done in my life, I did possess the necessary aptitude to get a top job and do it well.

And when the responses did not arrive, it did not minimize my being like it would do earlier. I reminded myself, “I know my worth today. It is their loss that they cannot see it. I don’t need someone to validate my self-worth for me. I have the self-belief to start from anywhere and still be happy.”

Finding the Artist Within

I am a freelance Public Relations and Communications Consultant. Six months back, I was meeting up with a client who was explaining the details of his new project with me. Suddenly, a dark gloominess enveloped me, and my mind went into a total haze. I lost track of time, and my surroundings turned surreal. The client’s words seemed like the crow’s call from a distant land. There was only one thought that kept echoing itself all over again in my mind repeatedly – “What am I doing here? Get out!! All this does not make sense. It does not matter.” For the next two hours the client kept ranting while I kept nodding my head pretending to be infected by his enthusiasm. I heaved a sigh of relief when I left his office.

I spent the entire next day mulling over what had happened. It had not been an isolated affair. I had been feeling disconnected from life for a while. I just felt like an actor playing a role, and playing it bad. This was not the role I wanted anyways. At the end of the day, I was able to make a conscious decision. I was going to quit my work and take a sabbatical for a while. And this is exactly what I did. The very next day, I called up all my clients and expressed my apologies. They were all surprise with this abrupt decision.

I had been working hard for a while to save money for a six month trip across US and South America. But even that trip seemed stressful now. There was too much planning involved, too many unknowns, too many uncertainties. I wanted something simpler. I had had enough “doing” things. For a change I just wanted to “be”.

I left the vacation planning for later. For now, I decided to join music and painting classes. I bought the keyboard I had been fantasizing about for a while now, and found a really cool music teacher who agreed to teach me at home. I have never considered myself to be the artistic sorts. My mother and brother are the artistic people in my family. I possess the laborer’s hands – stout and thick – eager to work at all times. My mother used to paint but gave it up as she got busy with bringing up the children, her work and the household chores. My brother had a gift for music but my parents discouraged him forcing him to pick up a more respectful career.

I would reprimand both of them for wasting these God given gifts. For years, I had bought my mother easels, canvasses and other art material to encourage her to pick up art again. I would pick up musical instruments for my brother thinking that they may inspire him to take his music more seriously. But it never happened.

On my part, my standard line was, ‘Even if someone demanded that I draw and paint as ransom for a kidnapped family member, I would not be able to do it.”

Well, it was time for me to break out of my mold and give the artist within me a chance to blossom.

The entire paradigm of life shifted for me. From looking at life through the lenses of business, finance , networking , loans, gadgets, etc. I found myself tracing the shadows cast by the lights in the evenings, I found myself noticing the difference in the shades of green of leaves from one tree to the next.  I started sitting on my terrace in the morning spending hours listening to the chirping of birds, to the sound of leaves hustling, to the sound of the metro moving on the tracks nearby, to the sound of my maid moping the floor. All natural sounds bringing in a feel of unadulterated bliss and contentment. Life became an interplay of sounds and light.

In my first art class, I was not able to draw a tree when my teacher asked me to. Today my teacher insists that I continue the art classes. She has promised me a collaborative art exhibition after six months if I do. The critic in me does not believe her, but my heart does. My music teacher has promised me a pianist’s job after 9 months if I continue with the same dedication.

The artist lives within us all. We just need to believe in the little child inside and allow it to express itself.

There were many times when my self-doubt would grow to be strong enough for me to be willing to give up on myself. I would find my art childish and compare it with the work of the finest artists. But my art teacher would not allow me to do that. She got me to embrace my own creations and expressions. Art is a language, a very individualized one. It is my expression, my joy, not to be judged by others. And within my limitations, I can discover my strengths. By accepting my imperfections and limitations, and embracing my strengths, art has taught me a lot about self-acceptance and self-love. The lesson is a simple yet invaluable one, ‘Play with what you have, learn what you don’t have.”

I feel  so much more actualized with the different modes of expression at my disposal. 

Darkness before Light

I am Perfect and Whole

Growing up in a dysfunctional family, I always had the feeling of being defective, of being less than others. Shame and self-hatred enveloped my world.

I sought help in a myriad of ways. I joined spiritual programs, experimented with various religions and schools of spirituality, saw therapists, gobbled up self-improvement literature, had long conversations with people and friends on similar journey, went to meditation retreats, tried creative therapy, tried narrative therapy, and so forth. I looked in every direction for tools that could give me some respite from my darkness, and make me feel good about my world and my place within in. Well, each of these tool did provide me with some respite. But the darkness continued to exist within me – the inexplicable heaviness in my chest that would attack me at any given time during the day.

It was only during an interaction with a friend, when the friend pointed out that I was still living out the victim script in my life. I wanted to live a secure and stable life. I was afraid of making mistakes. I was frightened of experimenting and taking risks. And all that pointed towards the fact that I did not accept and forgive myself for the choices that I had made in my past.

That night, I went back home and took out the pictures from the various stages of my childhood and growing up. Each one of the pictures seemed to scream at me, ‘What have you done? How did we get here? In that moment I realized the amount of self hatred that I carried within me. I realized that I did not accept myself. I picked up the pictures, one by one, and started talking to them. I asked each of them to forgive me, to understand that I had done my best.  I slept very well that night.

And then the next day, the friend pointed out, “You have been trying to seek so many ways of fixing yourself. You seem to consider yourself as someone defective who needs to be fixed.”

This was another enlightenment for me. Memories came flooding back. How I had grown up with the feeling that I was defective that I there was something wrong with me. Relationships, money, career, achievements had not taken away that feeling. I still lived with that feeling everyday. It was evident in my choices and thoughts.

You committed the same mistake again. You lost the keys again. You cannot go out for lunch with a man, you don’t know how to handle them. Stay on the safe path lest you will make a mess of your life again. These were the thoughts that ruled my life. The past had a firm grip on my present, and the child within me was trapped.

As I became aware of these feelings and thoughts, I made a decision. The decision to love and accept myself completely as I was. The decision to accept my limitations and imperfections. The decision to accept my human-ness.

In that moment, I set myself free. In that moment, I became perfect and whole, as God had intended me to be.

I am Enough

It was the severe dread instilled in my heart while waiting outside the ICU for an update on my grandmother’s health that made me realize “I am enough.”

Several thoughts raced through my mind as mom and I waited outside the ICU.  “Ventilators mean long term medical care. It is going to cost a lot of money. Granny is not insured. “

“How will I arrange the money? What all assets can I sell immediately?”

“All these grand thoughts of being on sabbatical and learning art and music are fantasy at the end of the day. I should have continued with my job. I would have had the necessary funds and access to any loans that I may need at this time.”

My beloved grandmother had fallen sick all of a sudden. We had rushed her to the hospital and doctors had straightaway put her on the ventilator as she was suffering from an acute respiratory disorder.

The next wave of dark thoughts began!

“Oh God, I feel so alone”. I wish there was someone I could call to be here with me at this hour. I wish I could seek advice from someone I trusted.”

I continued to burn in the fury of these thoughts for the next hour before respite came in the form of nurturing and loving thoughts.

“I am not in charge. God is in charge.”

“I could have access to all the money in the world and yet not be able to save my Granny. If Granny is destined to get better, God will show me the way.”

And then:

“I have taken care of myself all my life. I took care of myself when I was a little child growing up in a dysfunctional family. I have survived much bitterness and disappointments.”

“I have many achievements to my merit. I have won some really tough battles in life. All this while, I took care of myself. I can take care of this too. I can take care of my Grandmother. I have always been enough. I am enough now. I do not need anyone else.”

Grace had happened. The weight of victimhood was replaced by the lighter, breezier feelings of empowerment and belief in me.

Nine days later, when the doctors recommended an elaborate procedure known as tracheostomy, my heart skipped a beat. The procedure requires the ventilator tube to be inserted through a slit in the neck. Patients can take months to wean off the tube. It would involve a lot of funds and intensive care. Once again my faith shook as I wondered about what all it entailed.

But the feeling of empowerment was restored. I told my mother in a firm voice, “Let us pull up our socks now. We will give it our best.”

“As for the funds, we can sell off all that we have. We earned this money. We created these assets. We did it, and we can do it all over again. I am enough. You are enough.”

Empowerment is a matter of perspective. It is about how I choose to look at my life. Do I want to continue the victim script of “Poor Me” or do I want to feel empowered and say, ‘I can deal with this. This is simply life happening.” It is a choice I make.

Self Acceptance

It was a bright and sunny winter afternoon. I finished my work early and headed straight towards home, looking forward to spending some quality time with my grandmother. 

As I entered the house, I thought to myself, "She will be lazying in the Sun on the terrace. I will go and massage her legs. She has been complaining of leg pain for a while. And then I will comb her long, golden locks just like the good old times. It will be nice and intimate."

After changing my clothes and parking my handbag in my room, I walked up to the terrace.

To my utter shock, I discovered that my favourite quilt was hanging on the clothes line to be dried.It had been washed.

It was the same quilt that carried the smell of my cat who had recently died. I was attached to the quilt and the smell. I had strictly forbidden my mother and maid from washing that quilt. I realized my grandmother with her obsession for cleanliness, and washing clothes must have washed it. 

I had been struggling with my grandmother over the issue of space and privacy for a while. I had asked her repeatedly not to intrude into my room and not to wash my stuff without my prior permission. She would keep ignoring my pleas. And now this had happened.

I felt this was an unacceptable intrusion of my space especially since I had requested that no one should touch this particular quilt.

In that moment of anger, I took a conscious decision - the decision to express my anger. My usual way to express my anger is through healthy communication. But I decided that this situation warranted some action to send out a stronger message to her.

I did not say a word to her .I quietly picked up the quilt from the clothes line and shredded it into pieces infront of my grandmother. She just kept watching me. I then went back to my room, thoroughly disappointed.

Ten days later when she died, this incident replayed in my mind several times. But I was able to accept it as part of my human-ness; and as part of our every day human life. Would I change it if I could? No, I would not. Emotions make life enriching, especially when we are simply expressing ourselves and not acting out of pure malice. I was able to accept that part of myself without any guilt. Aah , what a relief !!! If the same incident had happened a year back, I would have spent days flogging myself over it, and maybe even blamed it for my grandmother's death.

Self Love

My grandmother recently passed away and my mother and I have been grieving her loss. We were very close to her.

Few days back, I decided to cheer us up by making a plan for a movie. My mother refused.

"How can I go for a movie. My mother has just died. We have not even completed the ritualistic grieving period of 40 days.

But you go. Cheer yourself up."

Amazing - a mother's love for her child. A mother wants her child to be happy and cheerful. Why can we not love ourselves like that? Why do we need to be harsh on ourselves when we are so loving and compassionate with our loved ones? Where is the love for self? Are we not worthy? Don't we deserve the compassion that we reserve for our children?

Am I Worthy?

I am a human "being" and not a human "doing". Hearing this phrase made me ponder about my life.

 I have always prided myself on being an efficient and productive human being. I have always had long “To do lists” and I have managed to check most of the items on those lists on a regular basis. I am always thinking about the next thing to "do". To just "be" is an alien concept for me.

Recently, a friend gave me a book on the dubious topic of “Shame.” I buried myself into understanding the contents of that book. The book was written by a famous American psychologist, lending it credibility and making it worth my hours.

As per the book, Human Shame is Universal in character. The Shame stems from our recognition of our limited capabilities and capacities. As children, most of us do not receive unconditional love from our parents.  When that happens we feel “Unworthy”. We feel something is wrong with us since there cannot be anything wrong with our parents. Our parents are like Gods to us. We then start feeling ashamed of our selves due to this deep sense of unworthiness.

The only ways to feel worthy, to reduce this shame and to feel loved then are:  through achievement and through good behavior.

 Our life’s journey then becomes about the struggle to climb higher and higher on the ladder of achievement. Each step higher makes us feel more worthy of being loved and respected.  Each certificate, each promotion, each medal makes our parents more and more proud of us. They love us more. We grow and expand from the appreciation we receive from our boss, colleagues, friends, etc. They will not reject us now. I have proven my worthiness to them.

The other way to gain that love is by becoming good boys and good girls. We learn about acceptable behavior, attitudes and mannerisms and adhere to them to the best of our ability so that we are loved. My parents’ ideals and desires may not be mine but I follow some of them just to keep them happy. My life begins to revolve around keeping other people around me happy. That way they continue to love me and not reject me. My own happiness does not figure in the equation. I am happy in keeping my family members happy.

Love is the food for the human soul. And we will go to any lengths to feel loved and accepted.

Our constant discomfort stems from this inherent sense of our unworthiness. I am unworthy of being loved. So let me go and achieve some more. Let me try to look better. Let me try to be a better father/daughter/wife.

In this struggle to appear worthy, somewhere I lose a sense of my own self. I become distant from my own inner being. I forget who am I. I forget my own values, desires and aspirations. I become dishonest with my ownself. And if I am dishonest with my own self, how can I ever be honest with anyone else?

I forget about accepting, respecting and loving my own self.  If I cannot really love myself, can I really love anyone else? My relationships and life's purpose are all then based on my neediness - my need to appear worthy to others. I want to be loved because I am incapable of loving myself. I need to be told that I am worthy because I have lost my own inherent sense of worthiness.

Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself “I am worthy.”