“You cannot step into the same river twice.”
This quote by the Greek philosopher Heraclitus means that everything exists in a state of flux, constantly changing and never remaining the same. The water that flows at one place in the river is gone the next, even if we stand at the same spot in the river. This can be applied to human beings as well. To use a cliché, “change is the only thing that is constant.” It is a universal law that human beings also undergo many changes – physical, cognitive, intellectual, emotional and social in due course of time. Our thoughts and feelings transmute over time. This underscores the idea that life is ephemeral – we should accept the changes gracefully instead of living in the past.
I am no exception to the rule. My perceptions, sensibilities, psyche and social relations have also transformed during the course of the last twelve years or so. I have let go of the idea of marriage or life partner, the idea of being a single parent, full time job, the desire for a travel companion and my social anxiety. Each decision had months of deliberation behind them and I don’t regret any of these.
I had a three months long abusive marriage, the details of which I have shoved under the carpet. I have buried the hatchet and it is best to let the sleeping dog lie. However, I would like to talk about its long-term consequences. It triggered a mental illness called bipolar anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, acute depression and suicidal ideation, all of which impacted my normal life. It was precisely because of these reasons that I didn’t want to remarry or have a live-in relationship. I wanted my “me time”, time to heal and turn over a new leaf. But there was something more, something more personal, and something not very common. I had lost interest in physical intimacy. I will call a spade a spade – I had/ have become asexual and a platonic marriage is largely unacceptable. I didn’t feel the need for this facet of life at all. So, I let go of the idea of marriage or a romantic relationship.
From my adolescence I have loved children, so much so that I wanted to be a school teacher in order to invariably touch base with them. I would have made a wonderful mother, according to people close to me and my psychiatrist. However, when I decided not to remarry, the conception of motherhood seemed to be slipping through my fingers. That was when my mother suggested surrogacy or adoption as an option. We quietly explored these possibilities for a few months, keeping everything private. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I wasn’t emotionally prepared to raise a child on my own. What if something happened to me and there was nobody to take care of my child? Life is unpredictable – my child would be left an orphan – a thought that was unbearable for me. Surrogacy or adoption were not my cup of tea.
During the period of my depression, I had locked myself up in the ivory tower, coming out of the room only when extremely necessary. My mother wanted to push me out of my shell to the open world again and literally dragged me to submit my resume to schools. Fortunately, I got a job in the first school I applied to. I loved being in the classroom, amidst my children, from the bottom of my heart. That was where I felt the most alive.
However, it was a different story in the staffroom. Owing to my social anxiety disorder I could not interact with my peers at large. At that time, I didn’t know that I suffered from bipolar anxiety disorder, so I could not comprehend why I could not deal with the work pressure others could so easily (or not so easily) handle. I buckled under the social expectations, administrative jargon and work pressure and resigned suddenly. The same pattern followed in every good school I joined. I realised that I needed a job with flexibility where I could decide my working hours on my own terms and not depend on the academic calendar. After all, which school would allow me 10-15 days leave due to my bipolar mood swing? Hence, I took to teaching online and writing. These keep me in touch with my students and fulfil the need for self-expression.
With these decisions came the inevitability of losing traveling companions – I didn’t have a life partner or children or colleagues to go on a trip with. Not everyone would be free at the time I chose for traveling. How then would I satiate my wanderlust? Simple – I trained myself to go solo. Yes, even in a country like India which is considered to be unsafe for women. Of course I follow safety tips like keeping a pepper spray, booking cabs only via reliable platforms like MakeMyTrip, giving the driver’s details to several people and sharing my location with them. It has been 1.5 years since I have covered ten out of twelve Jyotirlingas on my own.
Last but not the least, in order to conquer my demons of social anxiety, I started interacting with my extended family members and close friends, one-on-one, to begin with, and then small groups. When my father passed away, I was able to handle all the social obligations adroitly. Attending the next cousins’ meet is on my agenda.
In retrospection I feel that I have been like the Greek mythological bird, the phoenix, rising from its ashes every thousand years when it is burned down. It is the imagery which became a metaphor for resilience and transformation in Greek, Roman and Egyptian mythology. As the lyrics of the 1997 song “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba goes, “I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down.”
By Richa Verma
Richa is an online English teacher, independent blogger, voracious reader, movie buff who is smitten with wanderlust, and a homemaker. She can be contacted through her email address richavermamh@gmail.com
