Dr Jekyll, Driver Hyde.

Ashraf and Luqman on the beach at Byndoor

Don't be deceived by this gentle soul, quietly making sandcastles on the beach with his son. Put him behind the steering wheel and point him in the direction of the highway, and he turns into a force to be reckoned with! I recall at least five or six close reckonings from our first drive together. I don't recall any from the subsequent drives, largely because I kept my eyes shut!


I was later reassured by my cousin and his brother (henceforth referred to as the Schumacher Brothers) that this style of driving is de rigeur on the national highways of India and that "everyone drives like this here". It is, apparently, the done thing if you want to arrive sooner rather than later. (The way I drive, I would probably have taken a whole day to make the one-and-a-half hour journey). I think the point is to arrive while it is still light. Or at the speed of light. Or something like that.

Drivers break the monotony of their long drive by playing frequent car games. Their favourite is one that I call "chicken", but in the local dialect is referred to as "overtaking". It is most often played against large lorries who seem to operate in pairs:  one alongside our car, trying to prevent us from passing, and the other roaring towards us from the opposite direction. The highlight of this game is when your car miraculously slips into the little gap between the two lorries, and carries on going. I simply cannot describe how my heart leapt each time we were blessed enough to experience one of these special moments.

An anti-anxiety pill slipped under the tongue (of the passenger, not the driver) helps a bit, because it makes it easier to close one's eyes and resign oneself to one's fate. Having said that, this one survived several such highway drives, and returned home to Bangalore unscathed. So perhaps the Schumacher Brothers are right after all!

From Bangalore to Byndoor

The beach at Sai Vishram Beach Resort, Byndoor

It was supposed to be the worst of times, but it ended up being the best of times. It was neither the spring of hope, nor the winter of despair:  it was late January, and to those of us who flew in from Bangalore, it was hot as hell. But it felt like heaven.

Last week, I took my first flight in fourteen years, to Mangalore, on the west coast of southern India. My final destination was a seaside resort at Byndoor, about 120 km by road.

This was also my first trip to Mangalore and its neighbouring districts in twenty years. This trip was special for me, not just for breaking my non-travelling jinx, but mainly because my father was born here, and I have many relatives living in the region.

The last time I flew in an aeroplane was back in 2002, when I left my advertising career in Bahrain and came to "retire" in India and be nearer my parents. Full of my usual and quite unnecessary fears, I had been dreading the flight. There was an emotional departure from the safe walls of my little Bangalore flat (well, emotional on my part:  the flat remained quite unmoved). I went armed with half a pharmacy, and left my Will prominently on my desk back at home.

The flight was just an hour long, and although it was one of those small propeller-driven planes that had to be landed on one of the world's tougher runways (Mangalore's airport at Bajpe has what is called a "table top" runway), it was a smooth and easy journey.

Then we got into my cousin's car to make the long drive to Udupi. That journey was a whole other story! My fear of flying has now been replaced by a more tangible fear of national highways.

Come back for more tales of this not-so-intrepid traveller's adventures tomorrow!

SILENTLY SEDUCED, by Kenneth M. Adams

This is an uncomfortable book to read, as I can see not just myself, but a great many people I know, in its pages. It's about covert incest, which is apparently as common as, well, the regular kind. If not more.

Covert incest is not a physical violation, but rather more about parents enmeshing their emotional lives with their children to compensate for an unfulfilling relationship with their spouse.


Given that most people on this planet would rather gouge out their eyeballs than admit their parents seriously lack in parenting skills, I recommend this book to: EVERYONE. Needless to say, most everyone will refuse to pick this book up, for fear of what it will reveal. But the few of you who have the courage to, will find it an eye-opener (much better than turning away or the eye-gouging option, both of which just leave you blind). Here are just a few of the many lines I'd like to share:


"There is nothing loving or caring about a close parent-child relationship when it services the needs and feelings of the parent rather than the child.


"The boundary between caring and incestuous love is crossed when the relationship with the child exists to meet the needs of the parent rather than those of the child .. the child becomes an object to be manipulated and used so the parent can avoid the pain and reality of a troubled marriage. The child feels used and trapped .. over time, the child becomes preoccupied with the parent's needs and feels protective and concerned. A psychological marriage between parent and child results. The child becomes the parent's surrogate spouse.


"In a covertly incestuous relationship, the parent complains to the child about the difficulties in the marriage .. Both parents are active participants .. one is getting some needs met through the child and the other is relieved at not having to deal with the reality of the dissatisfied partner.


"As long as the abuse or neglect experienced in childhood remains buried within, we recreate our family all over again in adult relationships.


"Many of these families appear well put together, almost the ideal or perfect family on the outside. This makes it much more difficult to confront the past in an effort to find the roots of one's current struggles to grow and become healthy.


"It isn't always the abuse, neglect or abandonment one suffers as a child which later interfere with happiness, but rather the distortion in perception which results. The classic example is, 'I beat you for your own good'. Certainly being beaten is damaging, but being told it is for one's 'own good' is the factor that will haunt the child for a lifetime.


" .. it is a set-up for some some form of addictive or compulsive lifestyle. Because of the broken spirit, pain and discomfort of being objectified as a child and feeling inappropriate sexual energy, the adult covert incest victim has a difficult time being comfortable with his body. Addictions represent an escape from the body and a way to medicate feelings. Sexual addiction and workaholism .. food addiction, alcoholism, compulsive spending, shopping, gambling and drug addiction are also common.


" .. those people who give in regularly to their addiction (be it food, sex or gambling) are the ones who remain in denial about the root injury that opened the way to the addiction in the first place.


"Covert incest victims seldom experience life as spontaneous and guilt-free. Rather, they are burdened with a sense of never doing or being enough and are removed from the real or true inner life of who they are. Early on they realise their only source of self-worth rests in sacrificing their own needs and feelings to the emotionally vacant and seductive parent. For a child there is no choice in this - it is a matter of survival. Yet these children intuitively know and as adults are consciously aware of the murder of their souls.


"Real emancipation cannot be given. It must be taken. Emotional maturity cannot be realised until emancipation occurs. You cannot be an adult man or woman and simultaneously hold onto Mommy or Daddy."


from
SILENTLY SEDUCED
When Parents Make Their Children Partners
by Kenneth M. Adams, Ph.D.

FORGIVING OUR PARENTS, by Dwight Lee Wolter

This is a slim volume I bought a year or two ago, but only got down to reading today - as part of my ongoing "decluttering" quest. Now the book itself can move on (to Enfold's library, if you want to read it!) but I wanted to save some of my favourite lines here, for me to come back to.

Forgiveness is an issue often juggled with by survivors of any sort of childhood trauma - and by "the experts". There are many different perspectives on what it is, and how important it is. And of course, many different definitions of what it means to forgive. I do recommend this book for any survivor of anything. I like the way he explores the progressing of feelings in the healing process.

"Forgiveness is not amnesia. It is not a drug we take to forget the pain. Dismissing the past as over and done with - and therefore not relevant to life today - is not going to make the problem go away."

"Cliches and slogans are intended as easy-to-remember summations of knowledge and wisdom, but they can be misused. Unfortunately, they are sometimes used to silence people or to deny feelings."

"Many of us who who were raised in dysfunctional homes use unforgiveness and resentment as a means of keeping us away from our true feelings. .. Rage, fear, and anger lurk within an unforgiving heart. Who wants to look at that? Many of us have had so much pain in childhood that, as adults, we avoid pain at any cost."

"Anger, sarcasm, and wit make a potent combination .. Anger became the fuel that propelled me through difficult situations. Anger became the passion that let me know I was alive! I didn't HAVE anger. I WAS anger. Anger was my first name. And blame was my middle name. Then I realised that it was not getting angry but remaining angry that had become a problem for me. .. If someone hurt me, I would get angry instead of feeling the pain. It was difficult to let go of my attraction to blame and anger."

"I want to wear my anger like a suit of armour to spare me from the pain. But I can't. I never had a childhood. Now I am losing my anger about never having had a childhood. What I am left with is ... sadness. And facing sadness is not easy. All of my life I would rather have been dragged across a field of boulders by wild horses than to feel the immense sadness within me. Anger was so much easier to feel."

"I am now allowing myself to feel the feelings I have never felt before. I must listen to the child within me that was ignored. And if one of the feelings that comes to the surface is blame, then I want to feel all there is to feel about blame. Then perhaps I can feel the anger behind the blame. And then the pain behind the anger. And the sadness behind the pain. And the acceptance that is rumoured to lie behind the sadness. And the hope behind the acceptance. So that someday I may have a chance at leading a contented life."

"Ultimately, we have to forgive ourselves for being ourselves. Have you ever sat in your room, staring out through the window, feeling a little down, watching people walk by? Don't they look great? They are just chugging along, dressed so well, clean and fresh looking, on their way to their meaningful jobs, leading their meaningful lives. We imagine them with no holes in their socks, no blemishes under their make-up, no ghosts in their closets, no drunks in their families. We imagine them happy that it is Monday morning again, that now that they are well-rested from their weekends at the beach with their flawless lovers then can get back to being productive in their lucrative, high-visibility careers. And what about us? If we break a shoelace, we can trace it back to being from a dysfunctional family. If we do anything less than perfectly, we are flawed human beings, the objects of self-pity and scorn. If we make a simple mistake, it is a relapse."

"In order to forgive my parents, I must have already decided they are guilty of whatever I am about to forgive them for. That means I have placed myself in the position of knowing who is guilty and who is not. Then I decide who is to be punished or forgiven. I have adorned myself with a crown of resentments. I am the standard against which all goodness is measured. I am a self-appointed judge and executioner. I have relieved God of most of his duties."

from
FORGIVING OUR PARENTS
For adult children from dysfunctional families
by Dwight Lee Wolter, 1989.

It helps if you're already insane.

Ah, the joy of caregiving. Although this was taken after Dad's lung infection in December 2007 B.C. (Before Cancer), it's a picture that speaks a thousand words. It verbalises so beautifully why I am an excellent caregiver, and why I have not lost my mind over all the stresses, fears, worries, anxieties .. there was no mind to lose.

P.S. the mad caregiver - me - is on the right; the silently suffering sedate care recipient - Dr. Tonsils of egg-painting fame - is on the left.

P.P.S. Don't miss the green snake in the background .. oh, all right, it's just a garden hose.

Twiddling my thumbs in anticipation of an arthritic future

Well here I am, waiting for people to check their inboxes and then (hopefully) sign up to join this online group I just started - COPE: Caring for Our Parents and Elders. Having just become a caregiver for my father, it seemed like something to do.

Half the people I know who are my age are also going through the same responsibilities, stresses, fears ... we talk on the phone once in a while and keep meaning to meet over coffee, but there never seems to be time, or else our schedules always clash. So I figured an e-group might be the next way to reach out and connect, and also share ideas and resources. Anyone out there in the same situation, feel free to join - it's at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/caring4parents

It's been a rough weekend for me. Dad was doing "okay" so I spent most of Friday sleeping. I find sleeping is about the best escape from "all this" (i.e. the whole dad-being-ill-and-I-am-taking-care-of-it-all thing). The other day I realised that my favourite part of the day was at night when I was asleep .. unconscious and oblivious to the world. Not a great attitude to have, which is partly why I decided I needed to connect with others in the same boat. Sadly, no one else has joined the group yet, so while I'm waiting, I'm blogging here, basically talking to myself. Nothing new about THAT! LOL

Saturday I went from sleepy to angry. I was just ANGRY all day long. At the situation. At my parents for being sick and needy and old. At my siblings for not being here for the horrible bits. At myself for not being strong enough. At Prince Caspian (the movie) for being released at a time when I just can't manage to get away to the cinemas. At my husband for not being here to support me (although in his defence I should say that his absence is largely because he does not exist.) Angry at the world in general, and I could not figure out "a healthy way to express one's anger" as all the self-help books talk about, so ended up just smoking a lot of cigarettes, eating a bunch of chocolates, and .. to be honest, I can't remember what else I did yesterday. Oh yes, moved some furniture around. That always makes me feel good. And eventually the anger fizzled out.

And today .. today I'm just getting on with it. Wondering what to make for dinner that will be healthy and tasty for Dad yet not include ingredients that give my Mom allergic reactions .. sigh .. a vague feeling of dread for whatever lies ahead -- and there is sure to be Something ahead -- and the beginning of a spaced-out feeling as my mind decides it's time to dissociate from all this and think happy thoughts about Professor Snape instead.

So a quick trip to Hogwarts before I start rummaging for groceries .. and a promise that I will take time out for me -- and this blog -- on a regular basis again.