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fear

It’s a Blessing and a Curse

And then I began facing a challenge that psychologists eloquently describe as Catastrophisation – a word that most spell-checks still do not recognise. But, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. For a long time since my personal bereavement almost a decade ago, I became aware of a gnawing fear of future loss. A nasty bike accident made it stronger as did a few other stray incidents. It was almost as if I was creating a worst-case scenario for the future and willing it to happen.

What’s more, it was as though some voice within my head was convincing me that I had the power of divining my future, and maybe those of others who happened to be part of my ecosystem. Each time a piece of information came to my notice, a similar occurrence or instance from the past would bubble up and I would involuntarily join the dots to create the same outcome like last time. If that is difficult for my readers to comprehend, I don’t blame them. It is a mental health issue.

The ludicruousness of this exercise would pop out at me at most times, save for those where the force of historical context would push me towards a wannabe catastrophe. It happened in the past, and all of the data available now points to a repeat. Where was this coming from? An incident from this very day gave me some clarity and lots of hope that things aren’t as bad as I thought they would be.

During a conversation, I recalled instances from several years ago, which I promptly shared with my interlocutor. The only response I got for my efforts at unearthing a piece of information was “maybe, I guess so.” I was incredulous. ll those years back, it was my present interlocutor who had furnished me with that bit of information. Now the person claimed no memory of the same. WTF??? The person has no memory of it and here I was narrating it out. During this exchange, I also sensed a feeling of discomfort over the “frivolity” of my interlocutor. I mean how could they forget something they told me?

And then it snapped into place. The piece of information was irrelevant to both of us today. It may have had some relevance all those years ago, but didn’t serve any purpose now. And the person who had no recollection of it was in a happier place, not the one who carried it around in the depths of their memory. And in doing so, I suddenly became aware of how this very capability consistently helped me connect the dots around complex economic, political and geographic facts and events as part of my profession.

This was a habit I cultivated as a professional journalist back in the time when there was no Google, no internet and heck… no computers. Remembering data from a previous article helped me immensely while crafting a new one. Those days my pals used to describe it as the “Cow and the Coconut Tree” technique. This story revolved around a kid who uses her smarts to write about the latter when the examiner wants an essay crafted on the former.

It was indeed a blessing to have those days. However, today the very same habit has become a curse. One where the very same faculties that assisted me are causing me to connect the dots into an imaginary universe and then waiting around fearfully for their fruition. Events, incidents, words – things just come back swirling out of the mental mist when I least need them. Yes, you read that right. When I least need them. They make no sense and have no logic and not even an iota of emotion. They just spring up and convert a perfectly happy moment into one of mild panic.

So, how does one turn the curse into a blessing once again, I wondered. There is no easy way to do this, because when I try to break this pattern, it stops for a while. For that particular instance. Only to resurface with a new memory that’s long been buried. It wriggles out and fits perfectly into whatever it may be that I am processing at a particular moment. The stream flows on until something happens to distract me from that particular thought. The pattern repeats without my discretion.

So, what should I do? I asked a friend and mentor. The answer was simple. Stop running away from it. Just stay with it. Let it play out. Watch the thinker.

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Fear is the key

In the past, these blogs have been about random stuff that I felt had a preachy note to it. Upon re-reading some of them after a decent interval, I felt these were not authentic as there was little feeling beneath the words. So, I decided to wipe the slate clean and start afresh on this journey.

I am not sure how things will turn out this time. Whether my need to putting down my thoughts would reflect my current state of mind or again slip back into that didactic tone that I have now come to abhor. Because, knowledge is inherently available on demand from within and internal changes need not happen as a result of knowing a few more things. It happens without any conscious effort. One just needs to trust.

fear is the key to staying safe
Fear is the Key – Poster of the Hollywood movie by Alistair McLean

And so it is that this blog post aims to start off afresh. And in doing so seek to be authentic – not representative of what I want to be seen as, but as I truly am – warts and all. Today, I feel unapologetic about who I am, because there is no way I can be somebody else. It may fool some people around me for some time, but cannot fool everyone around me, all the time. And least of all, myself.

Self-deception is the worst kind of deception. And possibly the toughest to understand. Because, right from our formative years, we are encouraged to be what we aren’t. People around us foist their hopes, beliefs, rules and regulations making us believe that their’s is the right way, nee the only way. Imagine a world where children are free to choose their own religious beliefs!

As a child born rather late in my parents’ lives, I did not face as much pressure as my friends – maybe because my parents were different or because they were ignorant about parental guidelines. But, challenges there were. I cannot recall a time when I found structured education (at schools) meaningful. Yes, I liked the bits about learning a language and doing sums so I could collect the right change from the vegetable seller as a 5-year-old.

Being an only child and with parents already in their forties meant there was some pressure to be job-ready before my parents had to give up theirs. This was the first fear. And from this emanated others, the toughest being a fear of losing my parents and having to fend for myself. Of course, there were others around, but parents are parents no? To date I recall a 5-year-old standing at the window to hear the sound of my dad’s scooter turning the street. I feared that one day, he won’t come back. And I cried in anticipation of that day.

The key had unlocked a pattern that stays with me till date….

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