I was getting ready for work. It was a cold December morning in 2017. It must have been a usual Monday morning for my neighbors. I could not say that with certainty, as I did not know who they were. It was not the usual Monday for me. With my mom in the kitchen and dad in the living room, the morning sun reminded me that today is different.

My parents and I had arrived the day before. Delta decided to have a ‘day date’ with our luggage, so we had to wait for another day to get those. It was my long-time dream to have my parents over and show them around this country. I was supposed to be beaming with joy. Except, I was not.

As I got ready to leave, my mom asked me to stay for breakfast. She made hot and fresh ‘idli’, a south Indian delicacy. My relationship with food had changed in the past few weeks. There was a sense of guilt. No, I am not talking about the type of guilt, that I usually carry, for not trying to keep that fat away. This was different. This felt heavier. Every meal since September 25th, reminded me that I am somehow selfish, to eat. To survive.

I got the car out of garage with the windows open to get some fresh air, my morning routine. Despite the chill wind and the grey clouds, I love going to work in December. Less people, i.e., less number of people asking ‘Hey, how are you’ 4 times a day, less “how was your weekend”s because I could never get used to answering that question every Monday morning. Sometimes even on Tuesdays. Yet, this mid-December Monday was not something I was prepared for.

I took the same highway. Same sign boards. Same exits. Same cars around, ok, maybe different, but you get the idea. But I felt different after getting used to 2 months of Indian traffic. Yes, it has been 2 months since I turned up at work. Everyone in my floor, knew very well, that I was out. That I had gone back to India and had not come back for the next 2 months. They picked up from where I left, the very same day I left. They had to. Because I had to.

As I parked the car and started walking across the parking lot, I felt a rising sense of panic. A sense of discomfort. To be accurate, can you imagine how it felt – to get on that stage for the first time? To experience flying in an aircraft for the first time? To be in the same room with your parents and your in-laws for the first time, sorry, every single time? A sense of entering unknown. A mixed feeling of fear and anxiety.

The last time I swiped my badge there was 2 months ago. It was a Monday too. The next day, I was gone to India. Usually, our vacations are planned. This was our first unplanned one. And this was also the first time I took a vacation for 2 months. What was different, among many others, is that my manager asked me to take as much time as I needed. That does not happen very often, does it?

Lost in thoughts, I reached my desk. There was a ‘Welcome back’ note from my team. I was not ready to be back. But the questions I kept asking was that would I ever be ready to be back? Back to being my old self? Back to the time when my family was complete? My manager came running to see me. I wanted to hide myself. Like a turtle going into its shell. Slowly, without anyone noticing. Her desk was right next to me, darn, she came too fast. No time for the lazy turtle to react.

She gave me a big bear hug and said, “I cannot event imagine what you must be going through. I am here if you need anything ”. She handled 40% of my workload so I could get some time with my family, so I will not be stressed. I felt warm. After 2 months of being in the love and compassion of friends and family, it was hard for me to leave and come back to this new place. I had no friends. Friends who could relate to me. Friends who knew my language or my culture. Friends, with whom I could share.

As the day progressed, several people stopped by and welcomed me back. So many of them offered to help and made sure I felt at home. After what felt like the longest day at work, I started packing my bag. Just when I was about to leave, I noticed the picture on my desk. A small frame, the size of a match box, that carried a picture of my brother and I. He gifted this to me when I left India in January to come here. When I met him for the last time, in Mumbai airport. The next time, I saw him, on September 25th, he wasn’t breathing.
As the sun set that evening and I looked at that picture of my brother, healing from his loss felt impossible. I went back to my car and cried for I cannot even remember how long.

That was where my story began. And then many sunsets have gone by.
On a windy cold day that winter, I made my mom wear jeans for the first time in her life. Sun set that evening and I cried.
On another snowy day, I made my father dance in that pretty white snow for the first time in his life. Sun set that evening and I cried.
On a ‘supposed-to be’ impossible but ‘totally possible in Minnesota’ type of cold day in May, my American manager moved a critical meeting by a day so I can spend that extra night with my family on a cabin. Sunset that evening too and I cried less this time.
On a different sunny day, my friend’s mom from Mexico who I met for the first time, made dinner for me. She and I never spoke a word that we both mutually understood. Sun set a bit later that night and I cried, maybe a bit lesser.
On a bright June morning, my parents left back to India. As sun set that night, it was clear that life will never stop for anyone. Anyone. I cried lesser again.
On a chilly fall afternoon, I met my Minnesotan therapist. She listened endlessly and spoke to me like she grew up with me. I wanted to cry every single time I came out of her office. But it became harder to cry. I don’t know if it was healing or running out of tear supply.
On a random day, our not so close Indian acquaintances invited us for dinner and became family-like very soon. Sun set that night too, I again had tears on my eyes. But this time, it was out of laughing non-stop for a silly joke.

Time will help heal, many told me. I don’t know about that. But, HUMANS around me did. This place, these people, with whom I thought I had no connection, welcomed me with wide open arms and proved me that grief does not need language to be understood and love does not need color to be shared.

As I narrate this story today, I am still not sure if I have healed fully. But I am HOME and hence, there is HOPE!

Hey! The hurt little girl and the brave woman inside me!
I tried to suppress one of you for the other for a long time and refused to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses.
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, both of you are celebrated.
I see you and have abundant space in my heart for both of you.

Hello! My beautiful smile and my big fat arms!
To hide my shame-filled fat arms, loose belly, or big thighs, I also hid my smile.
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, all of you are visible and equally beautiful.
I smile at all of you and am here to flaunt you.

Wake up! My bold, confident self and the self with very low self-esteem!
I thought both of you could not coexist, and I got lost in search of who I really was.
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, both of you can come alive.
I respect you and am here to show up for my purpose with both of you by my side.

Hola! My suppressed feminine self and my wounded masculine self!
When I learned to survive in this patriarchal world, I missed understanding both of you.
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, both of you can be safely expressed.
I love you, and I allow you to express both the magical and the wounded parts of you.

Aloha! My angry self and my most kind self!
You are often misunderstood by others, and I haven’t been able to fully accept the complexity of your existence in me.
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, I validate both of you – You are both beautiful!
Thank you for your fierceness, and I am here to create a sacred space for both of you.

Ciao! My deepest fears and my bravest self!
Why do I keep seeking protection from a man outside? Maybe because I have never really identified myself with my brave self?
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, I seek refuge in both of you.
I seek your wisdom and am proud to learn from both of you.

Hi! My sweetest heart and my brilliant brain,
I understand why the poets always put you against each other, and I have cursed you both many times, too.
But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page, and in this chapter, I realize how much you both help me stay human.
I am grateful to you and here to listen to both of you.

Oh, my dear wounded selves!
I was so focused on trying to dissect and analyze all parts of you that
I got lost in the duality.
I denied space for parts of you because of shame or guilt,
And fit you into good and mostly bad,
All for the need to be loved by beings outside of me.

Oh, my dear, healthy selves!
I forgot to proudly embrace parts of you because, as a woman, I was confused about which parts of my existence are my best as defined by me vs. society.
I constantly disbelieved when anyone appreciated me because I gave away my power to those few trusted loved ones around me and let them define me.
You have shown up for me throughout my life, and we have achieved so much together,
Yet, I have not shown up enough for you all, and I sincerely feel sorry for how much I hurt you.
All for the need to be loved by beings outside of me.

But enough is enough!
Let’s turn the page from outside to inside, and in this new chapter,
I welcome all parts of me to exist, come alive, interact, and play with me.
I promise to stop searching for the container outside, to hold the whole and broken pieces of me.
I promise to come home to myself and realize that I have been the container all along.
In this new chapter, I am ready to fill my container with the gold elixir called self-love.
In this new chapter, I am here to gather the bare broken bones of me and lay it all out next to each other.
In this new chapter, I learn the art of Kintsugi and glue the broken, scattered parts of me with what is left of my raw self.
In this much-awaited chapter of my life, I am most excited to become one whole, perfectly imperfect self.

With love, me.