There is so much I want to say…

…but I don’t seem to be finding the right words. All around me things have changed. The Pandemic has thrown us into an unprecedented situation. For the last 6 months, I have struggled to cope. There, I said it. And now, I feel the inane need to explain myself. In March, India went into lockdown. We have been indoors. My children have not crossed the threshold of the flat and I haven’t gone further than the ground floor lobby. We haven’t had household help and chores have been divided amongst us all. Each family member does what they can, when they can. We have balanced school classes with office video calls, cooking lunch while discussing strategy, changing diapers during project updates and somehow juggling it all. I thought I was busy earlier. The me today would scoff at the me from before and tell her, “Just you wait. You have no idea what busy truly is”. And yet, even as I think these thoughts to myself, I am reminded of my blessings. My loved ones are safe, we are managing okay. There are many many people who are affected far worse than me. I have been telling this to myself all this while as a consolation. However, that does not change the fact that I am struggling on a daily basis. All the balls I juggle have been dropping.

Someone else’s bigger problem, does not reduce the magnitude of your own.

This week has been especially tough. Late evenings, issues, delays, corporate politics are just some of the things that weighed me down. Today, I questioned the point of it all. Why am I doing what I am doing? Tentatively, I peeked inside. Just as the answer began to rise to the surface I beat a hasty retreat. I am afraid of my own feelings. Surely, this can not be right. I have been wanting to be a writer for so long, I don’t even remember when I started. Yet, what have I done about it? Zilch. The incomplete manuscripts and short stories that lay forgotten in a folder on my computer should have been paid more attention. A writing project I promised a friend should have been completed. I haven’t tried to learn the craft of writing. This blog has been the only thing I have written. Even here, the last blog post is from March. The ideas around blog posts have died out in my head. I truly enjoy writing and have deprived myself of this pure pleasure for the longest time. I haven’t acted on any of it. And see, this is why I stopped reflecting. Because in my head, I am the one to blame. This thought scared me.

Today, modern philosophy is all about the power of thought. The power of using one’s mind to change one’s reality. The power of negative thought creating an adverse circumstance. Subconsciously, I have started suppressing them. But that does not make them go away. Trying to change my thinking does not fix the problems. It is the action that does. Action takes effort, a physical effort and that takes time. Time – my most precious commodity today. I am doing only the most urgent tasks today, leaving all else until it can no longer be ignored and has become urgent too. This juggling on a treadmill is crazy, not sustainable and yet, there is no end in sight.

I know I am not the only one in this situation. There are thousands and millions of people across the globe who are in a similar boat. Who are tired, fed up, cooped up. Who are forced to go out and scared every single time. I know that. Yet, writing all this down has been almost cathartic. Grin and bear it has not been working for me. So I have rambled on, like I used to in my posts from a decade ago. I feel better already.

If you are reading this post and relate with it, try and do the same. Speak, write, share. It might work. Even if you don’t find the words at first. Give it a try.