What I hate about Living?

My last post ‘What I hate about Dying’ gave me the chance to vent and be vulnerable. Both are important to me. It helped me reconnect with people, even those whom I’ve never interacted with personally. We live in truly amazing times.?

Where a complete unknown drops in simply to offer you words of comfort and peace. Altruism is this. You parted with your time and it’s the biggest gift anyone can ever receive. So, thank you. From the very deepest corners of my heart.?

Let me get back to What I hate about living:?

• The effort it takes to love life itself.?

We breathe involuntarily and of course, if I choke on my food, I’ll be praying desperately for a Heimlich maneuver. But, as I live and breathe today, I’ve never had it so hard trying to find meaning in continuing my existence.?

From being inconsolable to asking myself, 'what’s the point of living like this', to sitting down to write this today, the needle hasn’t moved a lot for me. What has happened is I’ve made peace with the fact that we know truly nothing about the things that are most important to us.?

We don’t understand death. And by association, we don’t understand life. We don’t know how the two really happen. What it all means and where it’s meant to take us. All I see is we’re stuck in some kind of roulette. We have no way of knowing when we’ll get out of the game and what will happen to us.?It's stupid.

Ergo, everything in between is meaningless. I’ve spent hours and days harboring this defeatist view - the novelty of it was certainly appealing. I still do it, at least once every day.

Then, I switch to the other extreme.?

If we’re here, it must mean something. My life may not mean something but my son means something to ME. That counts for something. That one who left meant something to ME. This is how I yo-yo into asking myself which of these feelings is real.?

The answer comes back, both are.?

We know nothing. And our lives hold meaning. If they didn’t, why would I be grieving? What would I be grieving? We just have to make peace with the fact that we know nothing. We probably never will. It’s the only choice we have in the matter.?

And therefore, in saner moments such as this one, I shift from “I have to” to “I get to”.?

- I have to fend for myself now → I get to explore and celebrate life, also on behalf of RB, whom we have lost.?

- I have to struggle alone now → I get to live his values and look after our son.?

- I’m left alone to deal with all my problems now → I get to live and learn, I get to see my little dude grow up. I get to raise him and in the process, learn to be a better parent each day.?

• Social protocol

You are free to counter me on this but I do believe in the truth of what Dr. Gabor Mate says about our society being a truly toxic place.?

Our social protocols about how people are supposed to hold themselves up while grieving are often dehumanizing. I won’t go into any of the details but I’ll say this: I’m following none. Especially because that’s very much in line with RB's wishes.?He was a hippie at heart.

In fact, I’ve decided that just as while I was pregnant, people used to tell me to eat for two, I’m going to live for two.??

I am going to have to dream new dreams and think new thoughts, without him acting as my sounding board and a critic. Taking a swipe at my idiotic ideas and silliness. It might all pour out here at times, be warned.?

I’m going to try out the things I used to only dream about. I used to share my crazy ideas with him and he'd egg me on to try them out. I’m going to see if I can do some of the things he really wanted to do. Carry on some of the work he felt strongly about. I’m not sure exactly how but I’m going to spend some time figuring things out.?

And man, do I miss his sense of humor. I do. I remember once we'd laughed for 3 and a half hours straight, for nothing at all. I can't believe I have one less person I can do something stupid like that with. ?

• Making friends with grief

Grief, I have found, is like the weather. It’s always around. Mostly, it’s like the unbearable heat we face in Ahmedabad - my hometown, where I’m currently stationed. Only rarely it’s like the mornings in my city - very clear and very sunny, and very pleasant too if you’re a 5 a.m.er like me (these days I'm up by 2 a.m. It's ridiculous what grief will do to you. I used to pride myself on the ability to sleep 8 hours straight).?

But, there’s no escaping grief, no. There’s no long drive away from it, no place you can leave it behind on your trip to the play park. If you’re watching your favourite sitcom, it’s there sitting next to you, clicking “next episode”. If you’re reminiscing times past, it’s there balling up in your throat. If you’re asleep, it’s humming a low tune ‘how long do you really need before I get to wake you up’.?

It’s my screen saver and my default setting. So, I’ve initiated steps to make friends with it.

“I guess, that’s the kind of relationship we’re in now, RB”, goes my thinking

• The unbearable kindness of my people?

I hate that I’m feeling compelled to prove worthy for the amazing kindness I have received from the people in my life. I hate that my people are so nice to me. They're my family. It includes my best friends. ?

This family of mine has been - and I struggle for words here - unbelievably supportive, kind, and understanding. They’ve literally cushioned me and my son from the worst facets of our shock and grief while feeling no better themselves. We’re bubble-wrapped in their love.?

My feelings of “why me” about what happened to our lives have been replaced with “what I have done to deserve this amount of love and kindness (and support)”, time and again.?

And it's not just them. It's my son too. I cannot describe how unimaginably insightful our collective moments of grief have been. Even when we think he doesn't truly 'understand' it. I've just said earlier how little of life and death we ourselves understand. If we had a scorecard for how he's handled it against how we adults have fared, he'd win it hands down. He's shown us the way to love life. It's more than anyone can do for another person.

Yet, in the moment, I hate it. I hate that my "meaningless" life is so full of people caring for us and RB's not around to experience it.?

• Grieving as a parent

I believe that you become a parent when you realize you want to multiply your experience of life’s learnings. That’s doing it right. If your life were a game, you're playing yours at the highest level when you become a parent, no matter you who are.

In the process, you reparent yourself (I have to remember I don’t have to —> I get to). Identify many traumas of your own and work through them.?

In all these, RB was my auditor, my thought filter... Now that I’m going it alone in so many ways, I’ll work to really level up my game. ?

RB’s go-to line for me was, “ZB, you can do it”.?

So, now I’m going to.?