Skip to main content

Making sense

You're imperfect,
and you're wired for struggle, 
but YOU ARE WORTHY of love AND belonging - Brene Brown


A few years ago one of my female colleagues stated she feels left out in her husband’s home because no one consults her. Decisions are made and that’s it. Obvious for her to feel that way, she being the eldest child looking after her younger brother and helping her mom and dad to run errands, she owned her responsibility duly or naturally transferred to her. She enjoyed the responsibilities, she felt wanted and she felt important.

I wasn’t as lucky as my colleague who enjoyed the responsibility in her maternal home because being the youngest child I felt left out. I know my husband who is also the youngest shares the same feeling because decisions are made and we have no clue what the hell is happening. My husband and I were both leaders in our schools, our friends value our opinion (I hope they do), we may or may not be raising our 6 year old appropriately (it’s nobody’s business), we both manage our careers effortlessly but at our homes it is different. This infuriates me. My husband consciously chooses not to give a shit.

As a child of the surviving parents I am writing this from a child’s perspective. I bet it will change when I become older but for now I am furious. As the youngest child I was sent to a hostel in the Indian hills and then went further away to continue my studies. In school, I had a set of friends who I could rely, trust and depend on – for everything. I felt I belonged because I was responsible for my actions and for my friends. I was a leader. I mattered.  At home, it was different. I had a difficult time adjusting the roles I played at home and in school. It was like as if I had a split personality.

Despite the isolation I am glad I had two elder sisters who made sure I felt I belonged – belonged to the perfect imperfect family. They ensured all family decisions (made without my knowledge) were known to me.  I don’t remember an instance where I was kept in the dark because somehow I felt they got pleasure out of the discomfort I showed by the truth or the lies told.

Nonetheless I am thankful. Thankful for the truth and the lies and thankful because I knew the limits of my expectations. And although I felt less important compared to other siblings, the knowledge of simply knowing that I too am on the same page as everyone else gives me a lot of comfort – I feel I belong.

I guess this could also be the reason I hardly feel the need to consult with my parents when I need to make decisions - big or small. I call them once in a while but I never discuss my issues with them. They have no clue what is going on in my life unless I choose to disclose to them and I guess it is vice versa. Until a few days ago I felt guilty for shunning my parents away when making important decisions about my life. But one my friends mentioned that her in laws expect their son (her husband) to share and inquire after them when they hardly discuss any matters with him (although the elder sibling is often sought after). That is when I realized, oh darn I am in the same position. I no longer feel guilty. It’s just I won’t feel guilty period.

I have a 6 year old girl who is a rebel in so many ways. My husband and I worry sometimes because she is the only child but often we end up reinforcing our decision to not have another sibling simply because we don’t want her to share our love or lose out on the decision making power. Now this sounds perfectly selfish in so many ways and most importantly we as parents are making an important decision without consulting our only child. But the fact that she will be the only child and that we won’t have any choice but to seek her opinion somehow makes sense to me and my husband. But of course it shouldn’t make sense. 

pic: Ktm post



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A letter to my future teenage daughter

My dear daughter, you are only seven today but you will soon be seventeen. And when you become 17 I know the world will no longer be the same for you and I. We will be together in the same house but we will be distant apart in our heart and head. I was once 17 you know. And like everything else nothing is constant so before you grow up too fast I am writing a letter to you and the million other 17 year olds just like you. Love life - you are going to fall in love - hard. So hard that you are often dizzy with love. A love that is insignificant but withholds you from achieving all your dreams. Dreams that you dreamt when you were barely ten. Dreams that your parents dreamt for you when they first held you in their warm loving arms. Dreams that your mother dreamt for you when you were just a tadpole in her growing tummy. You are 17 and you have just graduated high school. At the verge of becoming an adult. You think you are big enough to make decisions and that you know the best f...

Dreams pursued

My precious Photo: Shradha Giri Last night my nine-year-old and I held hands and cried. We then laughed and then cried again. This isn’t something we normally do – our daughter, our precious one who was quiet for a change sat still, listened to what I had to say. The thing is, I have decided to change my career at this age and it is creating a ruckus which I didn’t think of earlier. I guess no one thinks through until the day one starts working on the decision. I decided a year and a half ago that I would invest in a school. Both my husband and I danced at the idea one idle weekend. We didn’t think of the distance - 500km. A year and a half spent running to banks, local ward office and to tax departments, the deal was done. Just like that with considerable amount of loan on my shoulders, I became a part of the system where I have always wanted to make a difference. I spent the past two weeks in my new role and I was baffled by what I observed (I also spent a few nights c...

Oh boy! women bleed

Menstruation is a taboo. No one talks about it. Women do not openly purchase sanitary napkins. We pretend we don’t menstruate. We refrain from talking about our period at homes and at work places. I have always tried to reason with the stigma vis-à-vis the biological fact a female body goes through. Like how men have beards when they hit pubescent - girls bleed. What’s the big deal I repeat? Often, families and friends laud the teenage boys for sprouting one line moustache or a goatee. The boys are identified for being macho and finally a man. On the contrary, families hide their girls when they start their first period, ashamed when their bodies provide proof that the girl is perfectly healthy and normal. These young girls go on to believe that their bodies have betrayed them. They coax their bodies because suddenly it has made them impure. They can no longer mingle with the other sex openly; they must be mindful and often face exclusion from family functions. They are forced to a...