I wake up with a feeling of dread. I open my phone to see if I have received any messages from my “obsession of the year”. No, I haven’t. I go into spirala-la land. Does he hate me? Did I hurt him with my texts? Does he think am crazy? Is he just busy?
I get up finally. Thank god for urinary bladders. I settle down in the hall and start watching my favourite emotional tv show at this time: Gilmore girls. There are three kinds of tv shows I always watch. One is the kind which elicits a lot of emotions from you like Gilmore girls and Friends. These are ideal for days when you want to mope. Then there is the kind of TV show which you can watch in a very detached manner like River-dale and Sherlock Holmes. These are generally too dramatic and are ideal for days in which you feel very numb. And then there are the other type of TV shows for the other kind of days. Normal days, I guess.
Ok anyways I watch about 10 episodes back to back. I am clearly sad. Then I open my phone and start reading articles on what is called anxious attachment. I have been having a suspicion that I have the anxious attachment style. In non-diagnostic terms, I am clingy. My romantic interests would agree with this. Hell, I agree with it. However i don’t like when someone calls me that. I feel a ton of shame. I am guilty of doing frantic phone calls and seeking solace and support from people desperately. But that was genuine cry for support. Don’t accuse me. Don’t label me. Anyways, I continue reading this article and realise it could have evolved out of my trauma like so many other things. I apparently respond like a child in my relationships and I was even called a child by someone recently. I felt so ashamed reading all that. It was horrible for me. They say I can develop a secure attachment style but the journey looks really tough.
At one point, I just start crying and try explaining all this to my mom who is convinced all will be fine if I marry a guy who is committed to me. She may be right but am so ashamed of myself that I don’t want to torture anyone by marrying them. I talk to my mom and at one point, I feel better because somehow I ground myself to the present and realise there is a lot of other things I could be doing rather than mope over this romantic obsession of mine and my attachment style. So I do just that. I read and learn for like three hours.
So that was my day. A typical day once a week for the past four months. I call it distress. A week before I told myself I was improving and probably getting better. And then, this happens again. I started feeling like mental health is impossible for me and it is unfair that I have to work through it. Then my mom says something profound: “you have to work through this however long it takes. It is okay that you are who you are. Everyone is different. You will meet someone who is accepting. Let this journey take time and you have to work through it. Be grateful you have therapy and an accepting mother.” I felt that was true. My situation wasn’t hopeless. I had access to therapy and acceptance from an emotionally mature zen like mom. This motivated me.
I wish I could be with her always. My workplace is in a different city however. Should I give up my work and stay with her? I do learn a lot from work. It is a good environment to be in. How do I preserve my mental health? That is the question that makes me dread going back to work after my short break. What if I have an episode of distress again? There is no one to save me. Well, I guess I have to learn to save myself. Surely my mom’s genes must be there in me. I just got to find them and save myself and be there for myself more often. Seems super tough now. Bye.
Thanithuvam 