A seven-month hiatus, and some lessons learnt

I have been away from this blog for the last seven months. There was a lot going on, and I was a bit overwhelmed. During this time, my elderly mother (she’s 85 plus and legally blind) had to have an emergency hip replacement surgery, and so I also flew down to India to be with her.

I did continue to write in some way or the other during this period. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t writing or working on projects, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to write something here. Maybe it had to do with being overwhelmed, trying to manage and deal with a number of complex situations all at the same time.

But I am here now. This blog has been my friend ever since we moved to Ireland. It was born out of a desire to record my experiences, thoughts, and desires, and to be able to share some snippets of my life with others. It was also a way for me to process my thoughts, and experiences. I have missed being here, and hopefully, it is a thing of the past now.

Today, I am sharing some lessons that I learnt during this past year. Some of them would sound familiar. Anyone who has been through anything in life will relate to these. I hope I don’t come across as rude or preachy. That’s certainly not my motive.

Those who want to help find a way. Others will send you well-meaning, lifted-from-a-WhatsApp-textbook like messages that mean nothing and will never amount to anything. Real help comes in many forms. If someone is sick, facing bereavement or going through something difficult, life-altering and challenging, you can send meal/s, put together a care package, genuinely listen to them (without interrupting, asking intrusive questions or giving unsolicited advice), help them in ways that they ask for to be helped… Those who have no real intention to do anything in spite of being in a position to do so either geographically, financially, or emotionally, will send messages like “Our thoughts are with you/let me know if you need anything/you got this/you are so brave.” And then disappear. Or follow up or precede messages with how busy they are at the moment.

It’s ironic but comforting at the same time to know that this happens to everyone, it’s not just you. Some people will genuinely help you, some will send you meaningless messages, some won’t do either and simply disappear.

Even in your most trying moments, people will ask inane, intrusive, and really stupid questions. It’s not that these people are evil. They just let their curiosity get ahead of their friend/family’s needs and state of mind. Everything is available on the Internet and there are reputable sources to find out about a particular medical condition, situation, or experience. Instead of satiating their curiosity and perhaps a legitimate need to know how things works by looking up credible sources on the Internet, they will bombard you with questions: How does this happen? How much did it cost? Did your insurance pay for it? (No, it’s not about offering you financial assistance, it’s finding out if your insurance has paid for it or if you are paying out of pocket. How this information changes, impacts or improves their life — only God knows). Why do you need to do this, is this really necessary, no ‘alternative,’ holistic ways to counter this?

Some of these people will be those that you hold dear. You will let it go. Or learn to. You will also perhaps learn to say, “I really value you, but I don’t want to talk about this or I am not comfortable with this right now, can we drop this topic please.” It may not come easily. But when you are overwhelmed and trying to put one step in front of another, and dealing with a number of things, you will need to find a way to avoid answering unnecessary questions. I term them unnecessary because by not answering them, neither party loses anything.

Some people will give and give generously. Their actions will speak louder than words. They will “find time” from their commitments and help you in a way that is tangible, real and one that really makes a difference. They will fly down to be with you, send you meals, offer you real comfort, share their contacts and referrals, find sources of reliable information and resources… Some will thoughtfully leave you messages but put in a note that you don’t need to answer or acknowledge them. “No need to answer them. We are just checking up on you but we understand that it’s difficult to reply to so many messages, so please don’t worry about having to answer this message.”

All of us evolve. I am not perfect; neither is anyone else. But if you feel that you have really not done what you could do, or want to do better for someone who is going through a challenging time, do it. Give your time, a referral or recommendation (if the person needs it and asks for it – it could be for work/job, medical resources, access to second opinions or therapies), a homemade meal (food can often be the simplest and most valuable asset you can give someone when a person is sick, down, or going through a particularly difficult time).

Honestly, if you are within the distance to help, a bowl of khichdi goes far beyond 50 “our thoughts are with you” messages. And one more thing. Please don’t lie. Don’t say things that you don’t mean. People may be too exhausted to call you out, but they know what’s genuine and what’s not. Instead, a simple, “I am sorry I wasn’t able to be there but is there anything that I can do now” may be more helpful and heartfelt.

We all learn, and I hope that in going through some of these experiences, I may have more empathy and understanding. Hopefully, I will be able to respond to a person in need in a better and more valuable manner. One that makes a difference.

And since today is the day when the Jain community seeks forgiveness, marking the essence of their seven-day Paryushan festival, I take a leaf out of their spirit of seeking forgivness. As the members of the Jain community say, “If I have hurt any of you through my thoughts, words or deeds, caused discomfort or stress of any kind, be it knowingly or unknowingly, I humbly ask for your forgiveness. Micchami Dukkadam.”