Still a long way to go….

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So in my previous post I touched upon why I never took pictures with my son. Growing up I was an extremely active person and somewhere in my 30’s I started slacking off. I used to run track, row, climb trees, and pretty much do anything that would make me perspire. I loved the heat of South India, and I am sure it loved me back.

In my 30’s I went through a lot- loss of a baby, loss of a job, postpartum depression, and weight issues. So as I was on this amazing emotional roller-coaster, my dress size was creeping up. I did nothing to help with my weight issues, which was affecting my health. From being active to getting breathless while climbing one flight of steps was not acceptable anymore. I could not play in the park much with my son, and have missed out on some precious time with him. I had to make a change quick for no one but myself. But how? The only way for this to work was for me to kick my own ass to get moving.

At the start of 2015, I felt different. I thought to myself, okay this has to be the year. I needed to stop making excuses and stop feeling sorry for myself. I was at my heaviest- over 200 pounds. Yes 210 POUNDS!!!! What the hell had I been doing to my body. I know I am the only one to blame, and knew I needed to make a change quick. So I started slow-I found you tube videos on yoga, started that every morning. Did a few challenges, and the weight was slowly coming off, but I was restricted on what I could do, due to being top-heavy. Spoke with my physician, and she suggested I have a reduction. I just stared at her, as that was major surgery. She told me no matter what I did, I would never become smaller. I could not do it, I wanted to give exercise and eating healthy a shot. I kept at it for about six months and then school and life took over again. The weight was going up a little but I kept it in check at 195 pounds. Ughhh!!

Then came my emotional support late 2015. The motivation started again and I kept at it. 2016 rolled around, and the doctor suggested the same thing. This time I listened. So I had my surgery end of September 2016, which was a long surgery. I was recovering very quickly according to my surgeon. The surgery helped knock off six pounds. The surgery was mainly done to alleviate all the back pain issues I was having. So now I had to work on myself a lot harder. As soon as he gave me the all clear, I started with my yoga and threw in some meditation. Eating right was key. The toughest thing for me to give up was “sugar”, as is the issue for almost all. I still sneak in my coffee ice-cream on some days, but on most days I am more focused on eating healthy, and keeping myself hydrated. I am still working on the sleep, which apparently plays a part in weight gain/loss too.

So 2017 is here and I have stopped making excuses and feeling sorry for myself. I keep negativity away as much as I can for my mental health. So 43 pounds later, and with 40 more to go, I was finally getting somewhere. This is a very small victory for me, but it was a start. All I want is to be healthy for myself first and then my son. 

Why I never took many photographs with my son

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Sitting here and thinking back to when I had my first baby, I remember easing into motherhood with so much joy. But that joy was short-lived when I went into postpartum depression as I got laid off right after I had my son. The timing could not be any better.

Being a new mother and not knowing what the hell I was doing, and having a baby who was colicky also did not help. I was exhausted, and there were times I wanted to run away from everything. I was battling low self-esteem, depression and loneliness. The weight kept creeping on, and that brought me down even more. I never wanted to be in any photographs, but loved taking photographs of my newborn son. I took thousands of photographs during the first three to four years of his life, and still do. But I was hardly in any of them. I hated my appearance, and it did not help matters when my side of the family kept reminding me on how I need to lose the weight. They told me how I would look pretty if I lost the weight. Ugh!!! I wanted to scream at everyone. Even when I visited India, I was told by the shopkeepers that I was too fat, and they did not have anything for me. Everyone had this image that being thin makes one beautiful. A very brief background about me: I never used to be a big girl, I was into sports and was always fit. I remember being told that I was too thin and needed to put on weight. No one seemed satisfied with how I looked. I was never bothered about what people thought about me back then, so why was it bothering me now.

The weight came on after my two pregnancies in one year, sending my hormones into a tailspin. I did not care about myself as I was too busy taking care of my baby. When my son was about three or so, I was going through his baby year photographs and realized how I was not part of most of the pictures. I casually mentioned this to my mother in law, and a couple of sister in laws. They told me that when I am much older, and when my son was older too, he would probably ask me why I was never in any of his memories. They encouraged me to be in the pictures with him. That took about seven to eight months, and I finally started to feel comfortable in my skin.

Though the comments never stopped on how fat I was, but by now I had grown a thick hide. I was confident about myself, and the people kept talking but I did not care. My son is now eight, and I absolutely love being in photographs with him, making goofy faces and being silly. I know I will be able to look back on these days with a lot of happiness and pride. I am still not “thin”, but that is okay. Who said we need to be thin to feel beautiful? I love the way I look and feel now. I have never been more confident in my life, and most importantly I am the most beautiful woman to my little man. What more can I ask for.

And then there was a wedding….or something like that.

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So I don’t know how many times I have started, and re-started this particular blog. This was supposed to be the next step after the “awkward proposal”. There was someone who did not approve of this…but since I am at a stage in my life where I don’t care about what anyone thinks anymore, here goes.

After returning from India, we went back to being busy with our respective jobs. After a month or so we picked a date, actually I did. So the date I picked was a month after my birthday. I figured it would be easy to remember.

Wedding planning is the most stressful event ever, even worse when you have no one from your own family to advise and help. As much as I wanted a traditional Indian wedding with the dancing, henna, and Rukhsati, I knew that was never going to happen. He is a Catholic, and I am a Muslim, so we wanted to have something very small at a non-denominational chapel.  In order to have a Catholic wedding, one needs to go through a marriage class with the priest. Well, we went to see a priest, and had to fill out a questionnaire each and then we were questioned individually. When he asked me if I was going to baptize my child, I said I was not even sure I wanted a child. But they needed an answer and a signature, which would then go to the Archdiocese of Washington DC. Well, my answer was no I was not. At that point the “interview” was stopped and he called my fiance in, and said we could not get married in a Catholic Church, which I already knew before even going to meet this priest. So I looked at different chapels on my own, but nothing was working out.

This planning was annoying especially since I was trying to do it on my own without any help. So with the date picked, I had my mom print cards in India, and I sent out an Evite out to family & friends in the United States. Those who wanted to be there could, and those who did not, oh well. I definitely ruffled some feathers, but with no family support here, and none from the groom to be, I made the decision to get the marriage license and made an appointment for September 1st, So that September 1st morning, sitting at the courthouse, my heart broke again. It was another big event in my life, and I had no family. The price we pay when we move half way across the world. So after we said our “I do” to the judge, we then headed on our 14 hour drive to Memphis. I drove all the way because my lovely husband could not drive my car (Stick-shift). 

My gorgeous aunt had invited people over for a dinner to celebrate our marriage. My in-laws, a couple of my sister and brother in laws flew in for a day. That really made my day, but I missed the most important people in my life-my parents. There was no honeymoon as we had to head back to work. There was no “giving away” of the bride, which come to think of it, still has not happened. Maybe I should have my Indian wedding someday…so my father can formally give me away.

So now as a married couple, we start a new journey, and oh boy! no one warned me about the hidden dangers of being married….hee hee!!! 

joon joon and me

The #1 Gora’s entry…and a tragedy

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So my husband is a little nervous about this particular draft, not sure why. Anyway, here goes….

So this assistant manager was moved to my office, and he barely smiled. He was what we would call a Khadoos (grumpy). I did not like him at all and thought he could at least smile once in a way. I did not get his humor. Why was it funny to laugh at the stupidest things? Maybe I was the grumpy one, who knows.

I was moved to another office and did not have to work with him anymore, yay!! But one evening I ended up climbing a curb and damaging one of my tires by the park. It was almost dark, and who do I decide to call for help-that same grumpy manager as he lived down the street. I needed someone to have their headlights on, so I could change my own tire, but he being a gentleman changed my tire. He then asked why I was stalking him? I just stared at him in disbelief and asked why the hell would I want to do that? Like I mentioned before, he has a weird sense of humor. I did not find that funny. I don’t remember how we decided to go for a movie one day, but I guess that was the start of a very interesting chapter. He was not my type, which was tall, dark and had to wear glasses, in fact he was short, white and too chikna.

We were working one morning when one of the employees came running in and said the tower fell. I looked at her and asked her what tower she was talking about. She was scared. We quickly turned on the radio in the car, the second tower was hit. What the hell had just happened? I was just there exactly a week ago and now this. I had all these thoughts running in my head-how did they not see the tower? why were they flying so low? was this an accident? I heard a scream from the office, the Pentagon was hit. We worked in the DC Metro area. Were we under attack? There was so much confusion. We continued to work as we had people waiting. Even though everyone was concerned we had a job to get done. One comment that I heard from one of the managers was “damn Muslims and their jihad”. I was completely taken aback. The next nine hours was chaos as the flood of people from D.C. came through our area as we were only 3 miles from the DC line.

We survived the 9/11 attacks, only to be in the cross-hairs of the Beltway Sniper in 2002. A lot of those shootings were extremely close to where we worked and places we visited frequently. So it was an extremely tense time, but those managers words still ring in my ears even today. What was happening to the world that I loved? So many unanswered questions. But among all this chaos happening in the world, I was beginning to accept this khadoos as mine.

After about three years, he introduced me to his family. I was extremely overwhelmed as it was a large family, and I hadn’t really been around family in years. They were sweet and extremely welcoming. I had crawled into this shell and generally did not let people into my life that easily, so I probably came off as shy or rude. There were lots of kids around and I didn’t do well with so many children at all, I still don’t. He and I talked about getting married, but I informed him that he had to speak with my parents first. For that he would have to travel overseas to my home in India. He had never left the United States, so this was going to be fun. Nothing like travelling to India on a first overseas trip. He had no idea what awaited him. All I told him was to come with no preconceived notions and an extremely open mind. The journey had begun….

The Career (America By Default)

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So the default as some of you read in my previous post was “love”. That is what brought me to America. And I stayed on, because I knew the sacrifices that were made by my parents. I really wanted to go back home, because this was not my home (as yet).

It would also be five years before I went home to see my parents and brother. They did not make it to my graduation, actually no one did. I had a few friends and that was it. I had missed them so much. I remember being told by some people that I would never be allowed to work here, and that I would never get a work visa. Luck seemed to be in my favor, because I did get to work here, and also got my work visa in Canada without any issues. Destiny was taking shape, and I guess I was meant to move here. But I was still uneasy and was looking for any opportunity to go back home. The vacation back home was a much needed one. Things had changed in India, and I actually got a culture shock when I went home. Everything was much more western since I had left, even though I had grown up in a city. But it was home and I was savoring every minute of it. But soon it was time to go back to work-gosh I had grown up and had a job now. Mom and Dad were proud that I was managing on my own, but I had never let on about how I felt internally. 

Career:

So I said goodbye to West Virginia, and moved to the Washington D.C. area. I worked 60+ hours a week, so yeah you could call me a workaholic. I actually loved my job because I got to meet people from different walks of life. The place I worked at was a good ol’ boys club and if you played the game right, you advanced. Well, I played by my set of rules, so you could say I did not advance very far. This was a completely new environment for me, new life skills were being learnt. I was even told since I did not go to enough happy hours I would never get promoted. I was okay with that because my self-respect was intact and I did not need to “advance” my career by forgetting my morals and values. I had cut off contact with all my friends and I did not have any idea what was happening in their lives(no FB as yet). When I got moved to another office, I was told we were getting this new Assistant Manager and I had heard he was very serious. So on one of my runs to his office before he moved to our location, I asked who this person was and he stood up from behind the desk, and I was hoping it would not be this person. Well it was, and soon began another chapter in my life of a love-hate relationship.

photographs: some of my best friends from high school in India, and the assistant manager who made an interesting entry at a not-so interesting time in my life. 

 

America By Default pt. 2

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Two and a half months after being settled in my University by my best friend and her hubby, I got the worst news ever that changed our world. My Abajaan (grandpa) had passed away and his words still rang in my ears…it was the last goodbye. My problem of trusting everyone was about to be tested. I left my backpack at a friends dorm room and went to an acquaintance’s home to call my mother and him. I was distraught and was not thinking right. I stayed there till I calmed down, and then got my bags and walked home in a daze.

Like I said my trust was about to be tested. In my time of grief, this person who lived in the dorms decided to go through my bag while I was making calls and took my credit card number. When I got the bill I was shocked-he had called a sex line with my credit card. I did my research on where the call originated from-it was his room. I confronted him, he denied it. I was so angry, and I decided to file a police report against him. They arrested him while he was asleep. He got out and then a few weeks later they arrested him again. So he did what most guys would do…smear my name among the Muslim students. He wanted me dead. I had some angels watching over me at the school. You all know who you are. I did not care and knew that eventually they too will find out who he really is. Took a year or so, but I got my apologies from the Muslim Students. I distanced myself from a lot of people and associated myself with the Indian students, trusted no one, except a few.

During the second year, he decided to visit. Something was different…with me, or him-I did not know. This caused a friction between my best friend and me and we stopped talking for a few years. When he left I knew it was over. I was heart-broken but learnt two valuable lessons-trust no one and love is an over-rated word. He then emailed me to let me know it was and was because of religion. Wish he had the balls to say that to my face. So why was I still in America? Because my parents had spent money to send me here and I was not going to let a guy make me disrespect them in any way. Yes, I came here because of him, he was the default in my life, but probably ended being a blessing too because it led to other adventures.

University definitely was an eye opener-a little sweet and bitter. I had no family, and no one to advise me on what I needed to do. I was trying to make sure I was getting the grades, while trying to deal with two different losses. No one told me life would be this ridiculous. So I graduated, managed to get a job too, much to my surprise. Moved to another state by myself and started a new chapter in my life-my career.

 

Goodbye India….America by Default pt. 1

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I started writing this to log my story on how I came to live in America. Somewhere between enjoying the summer vacation with my son and life I am lagging behind…and no I am not apologizing for it. So let me finish up and try and understand why I am here, or at least attempt to understand.

As the final year of college was winding down I had no clue what I wanted to do. Even though I had managed to bag a couple of job offers with two big companies, my heart was working against me. I don’t remember much about him because it was so long ago. All I knew was that I wanted to marry him. We were opposites-me the extrovert, him the introvert, I loved dancing, he did not..etc. Yet there was this mutual respect and understanding. He decided to do his MBA, and I decided to apply for my hotel management again, but this time in Cyprus. I got into College in Cyprus and left India, not knowing this was it.

Cyprus was beautiful, the people were great and the college was fun. My stay in Cyprus was short and I even managed to survive an earthquake. During one of our conversations he said he was going to migrate to Canada, and that I should consider the USA to finish my studies. He said he would finish his MBA and then we both would move to Canada, and settle down. Again, I didn’t think much of it and applied to a few universities. I got into all of them, but chose West Virginia University because I had family there, who ended up moving right before I got there.

Now everyone told me that I would never get a US visa and personally I really didn’t care if I did or not. The United States was never in my life plan and after the brief interview at the embassy he told me to come back and collect my visa. This was my final goodbye to my Abajaan(grandpa) who was in hospital. His last words still ring in my ear, “I’m never going to see you again”, and it was so true.

Said my final goodbyes to my family, friends and my country and left not knowing where my life was heading. When I left that airport and gave my best friend a hug it was like part of me got left behind with my loved ones. My parents faces and my best friends face,  along with my Abajaan’s words are still so fresh in my memory. I got to Cyprus, packed my things, said goodbye to him and moved to a new continent.

And this was the start of a new chapter or the worst decision ever in my life….

Late 80’s/Early 90’s: Part 2 End of school life

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So the early 90’s and pretty much the rest of the decade was a mixed bag of emotions. The nightmares were back in full force, my gender played against me, my first kiss 😊  and then I had to move cities again…How did I survive?

The Nightmares:

Waking up screaming for my mother became a very common thing in the early 90’s with me. The suppressed memories from my early childhood days, revived the worst kind of nightmares, right around when I was trying to figure out my way in this world. I needed a support system more than ever. There was no one to turn to, no one to talk to about my fears, and no one to advice me at all. The only way I could control these fears, was by immersing myself completely in my sports, music and friends. But even my closest of friends had no clue about what I was going through, as I never wanted to burden anyone.

School: Old and New

There was so much going on at school. We had a school strike-I don’t remember exactly why, but it was when I was fearless and defied the seniors who stormed into our class while we had a test.

I moved to a new school (9th & 10th grade), and made more new friends, who were just as fun as the old lot. Cake fights, crazy dandiya nights, movies, were just some of the fun things we did at this new school. At the new school, there was a little boy, who would end up being a huge motivating force in my present life.  I would still go back to Asan to see my old classmates, and that is when I noticed him. What was his name? He was my neighbor! I used to see him leave for school every morning, and return in the evening. I don’t remember how we started talking, but when we did and I realized we both were mental cases, equally possessive, and both crazy about each other. When I did move back to my old school, he was one year my senior. He was the first one I slow danced with, and the first boy I kissed. I remember one occasion, where he had to be locked in his classroom because he was mad at me, probably something that I did to annoy him. I won’t go into any more detail about him, as my parents read this too 😉. But he introduced me to one of my favorite genres of music and I absolutely love him for that. He did eventually ask me to marry him but I couldn’t, because I loved his parents a lot, and I knew exactly what his mom wanted for him, so I had to let go.

My final year of school was lovely-our class got suspended for a week, because someone decided to set off fire crackers in the closet of our classroom. How and who did it, I still have no clue. But it was in the middle of our accounting class, and boy was the professor pissed off. The principal accused me, saying since I come early to school to practice, it could have been me. What a crazy year, and I loved every bit of it. I won two regattas, got the best outgoing sportswoman of the year and passed my 12th grade.

I had some very close friends by the time I finished school. One silly one lived around the block, and his home was my second home. So I had parents away from my own, who loved and adored me. I also learnt how to drive-the Ambassador was my favorite. I used to drive down Mount Road extremely fast-some of my friends still shudder at those memories. There were a lot of hospital visits, as my grandparents were in and out of them. My two sweethearts would sometimes bring food to the hospital, and keep me company. I hated the smell of hospitals. On my last day of school, my grandpa was shocked that I was done. He had no clue as to which grade I was in. So he said the next thing was for me to get married. I didn’t know how to react and just said no, I wanted to study.

We graduated high school, and were ready for the crazy world of college. I thought I would continue my studies in Madras, but other plans were being made. I got into the Hotel Management program, and even secured a scholarship to go to Switzerland for a month, but I was informed I couldn’t because I was a girl. I didn’t know that my gender would play against me. That was not how I was raised. What a low blow to my self-esteem.

So this was the end of my time in Madras, before I left back for my hometown. Uncertain of what I was going to do, as I wanted to do my management, but settled for Arts, and I knew that I was wasting my time doing it. I left heartbroken, and with a lot of pain. I felt at that time that I was unwanted, and didn’t want to leave my amazing friends behind. They had been my everything for the last eight years, and the one who had taken my heart, how was life going to be without him. More adventure awaited me, as I prepared for my new life with my parents. Gosh I had missed them so much and was looking forward to living with them again, but I was going to miss living with my grandparents too.

America by Default

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First of all, I am not a writer, I just suffer from verbal diarrhea.

The reason for my title is actually quite simple. It is not related to the economy or anything like that. I never had America in my life plan. There was no intention to ever move here. However, “life happened”, it became my home and after almost 20 years of being here, I do still call it home, but there is something that is nagging at me. Something I need to figure out. So let’s start this story from as far back as I can remember.

A brief history: I was born in India to two amazing soulmates. I was their “love child”. They were married, but even then, there was drama. My paternal grandparents were upset their son was marrying a Sunni woman…blah, blah, blah! But after I was born they were more accepting. My mother was on the darker side so she had to deal with racism in the family, and so did my brother. I was raised to be very independent, honest, respectful and empathetic.

I am going to write this in different parts and it may be haphazard. I make no apologies for that as this is straight from my heart.

This is my therapy 😉

Coming up next: Late 80’s/Early 90’s