590, 589

I will lay this baldly.

First two days in Bangalore were very bad. I was hurt and weepy and walked around like an open wound. I think it was because around me I saw couples and I was tired of being by myself. Over dinner one night, I shared it with a friend. I asked him what men looked for in a woman. He casually said that I should get laid. It felt very, very bad. Like that scene in Kill Bill where she puts a sword through someone's stomach and twists it a little before pulling it out.

But later it became better. I stayed away from that friend, roamed around, and had food and fun.

The heart and stomach still ached and it felt heavy and vacant...like it was carrying sadness like a dead, black baby (or that was how Sylvia Plath described it in one of her poems...or was it 'Bell Jar'?)
But I got through it - one long bus ride at a time. One coffee by myself at a time. One dinner with some friends at a time. One sleepless night a time.

I came back. That night I held my mother and cried. Very, very hard. It would be fair to say that I cried like a baby but to my recollection, I have never cried like that nor have I seen babies who cried like that. In any case, my mom was alarmed and so was I. I wasn't surprised though because I think I had been behaving strong and capable for a long time. I wasn't and the fakeness had perhaps caught up. My mom asked me because if it was I didn't have a partner. I felt that was it. That everyone I know, including Donald Trump- who I don't know...but well, have partners. They can talk to them about life being empty. They can say that there's no milk in the house - go get some. They can ask what is to be cooked for lunch. They can talk about the fears of what will happen after the parents are gone. I can't do that.

But...

I tried to imagine what it would be to have someone to hold and talk to. That knot in the stomach didn't go away. That tightness in the chest didn't relax. I was scared. So I just held on to my mother and cried and cried and asked her to fix it. To fix whatever it was that was causing just so much pain. When I eat nowadays, I hold my breath while eating. I eat a lot and fast - to glut out anything that might come up remotely resembling sadness. Or pain. Anyway, I remember crying very deeply and asking Ma to fix it. She held me and said that she would.

Then after many many days I slept.

She has bought me some very pretty plants, which I have to tend to. They are very pretty so I think I'll be motivated to take care of them.

I have to go to a counsellor this weekend.

Just met a friend at Apache and we had a lot to drink - some beers and a pretty Long Island Iced Tea.

I have decided to do yoga three times a week and so far have kept it up.

And while I had told my mom, that if something did not change I could do something drastic, I have decided to just stay curious. It would be interesting to see how the next how many ever thousands of days turn out.

Today at the pub, when my friend had gone to the loo, I thought about the author she recommended I read - just in case I got diagnosed with depression - David Sedaris. So I thought about ordering a book and I looked at the rain falling softly against the light of the street lamp. I have always loved it.Very, very much. Maybe this is all there is to it? To figure out a few things that one may love and be quiet about...and to notice them whenever they are around?

I wanted to write about what I am going through. I had thought of writing this much later when I had more clarity and strength. I don't know how it will be received by someone fro work if they are reading it. But today I was moved by the prevalence of beauty and alcohol and a recommendation of a book. I think it is not end of the tunnel for me or not even the beginning...but just in case, anyone reading it has felt the way I felt...I don't know...I can't say it will get better or easier...I can only say that I felt it too.

I feel it too.

Present tense.

Promise.