Sleeping with the Enemy

As the Windrush scandal reached its apogee today, with the Home Secretary, I learned that the Guardian journalist who broke the story is married to Boris Johnson's brother, who is himself a Tory minister. I was aghast. My first reaction was is the British media so incestuous that two people ostensibly on different sides of the political divide can seamlessly couple together? Is having a middle-class Oxbridge background such a strong glue that it can keep people with opposing political opinions together? Or am I being judgemental? Is love, not class, the superglue? Is it a mistake to conflate political opinions with morals? I don't think so. You cannot help who you fall in love with but you have a reasonably good idea of whom you definitely won't fall in love with. We are whom we love. Some of my close friends have political views that make me cringe, but those that do are not overtly political and we seldom discuss politics. I accept that not all close friendships are built on ideological common ground. But, I would like to imagine that romantic love is, at least for politically  conscious folk like a journalist and a politician. I would never go out with a Tory,  Republican or a bhakt.

Stress

"If you were anymore laid-back, you would be horizontal", my favourite colleague often says to me. In the past few days, I haven't been feeling very laid-back. It feels like too many things are happening at once and I am struggling to cope. Of course, the things that are stressing me are mostly good things--my conference proposal being accepted, my application to a summer school being accepted. But, I've been forced to reassess my self-image as an unflappable person.
Up to the age of about 12, every small wrinkle in life would send me into a bout of panic and tears. My mother later told me she would worry if I would ever be able to cope with life. Then, my parents sent me to Europe alone to spend time with my aunts, neither of whom I knew very well. Looking back, that felt like a turning point. That summer wasn't easy. I frequently felt lonely and found one of my aunts, who would push me to do things on my own, too harsh. But, overall, I had a good time and I came back a much more confident child. I was still an introvert, still socially awkward, but confident. When I was appointed School Captain my confidence was at its peak and my metamorphosis into a confident unflappable person seemed complete.
The following years were not easy or angst-free by any means, but my self-image as a level-headed (almost stoic) chap remained strong. It was only during the Troubles in my life, that were simmering for long but surfaced about two years ago, that that belief was shaken. In fact, my self-image made anxiety an even more disturbing experience. I struggled to accept my situation, as did many others who also saw me as a "rock".
I am much better now, but still suffer from mild anxiety symptoms from time to time. The fear that the anxiety symptoms will come rushing back, rendering me useless, is especially real during stressful periods such as this.
But, I've realized that the ability to remain stoic no matter what life throws at you is not a virtue, unless you are a stone. Anxiety is not always a sign of weakness or unresolved emotional issues. Sometimes it is just a kick on your rump that you need to spur you into action. Making changes in your life in response to anxiety is not a sign of weakness. What is a sign of weakness is clinging to the idea that you are imperturbable and must remain so no matter what life throws at you. Stress is sometimes just a sign that you need to up your game, operate at a higher level. And, the good thing about having gone to pieces is you know you can put yourself back.

Frenetic

Four months ago, I had never thought life would be so busy. I was bemused by people who kept whining that they didn't have enough time. Surely, not every waking minute of their day was occupied? But, now, I can understand how they feel. I am single and don't have any children and I still feel pressed for time. Of course, part of it is pre-deadline stress and it won't last forever. But, it feels like there is so much to do, so much to read, so much to write that those days went time hang heavy like a wet rucksack seem from another lifetime. Being busy has also given me a better appreciation of my supervisor and a changed outlook on what I thought were her poor management skills. When  you are in the thick of action, you are literally always on your feet. I feel like I am in the adult's league, if only for a short while. I remember this feeling--being so immersed in your work that even when you are not working, you are thinking about work. The existential angst goes out of the window and you stop sweating the small stuff in life. Although that can still come and bite you in your weak moments, especially when you are frustrated with work.
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My confidence still hasn't recovered from yesterday's drubbing. But, it has started inching back up. I found a new vein in my research that looks promising and though I still have loads to do over the next two weeks it is work I love. I think if you sit with a problem long enough, you ultimately find a solution. Maybe not the perfect solution, but at least something. Having your confidence shattered makes you a more open person and I am enjoying it. People I had dismissed as being of mediocre intelligence appear bright. You just feel like a nicer person. 

The Deadliest Sin

Apparently, pride is the deadliest sin. I have written previously about how prone I am to conceit. Today, that bubble was punctured and it was as unpleasant as I imagined. I was feeling quite uppity before meeting my supervisors today and the meeting was off to a good start before a question floored me. It was simple: "What is the basis for this (particular) statement?". And then the conversation turned to how my writing is still too journalistic. I don't make enough references to other authors. I am too descriptive and not analytical enough.
I have always known that I am an unconventional academic but for the first time it occurred to me that I might be an inadequate academic. It was sobering to realize that my arguments were not as novel or brilliant as I had thought. And I couldn't defend the novel ones with any confidence. My epistemology was my instinct, which is not nearly enough to succeed in the academic world.
But as I set in a boring economics seminar later that afternoon, Adrienne's words came to me "This is where you are and this is what you are working with" and I was flooded with a wave of calm. It is quite empowering to accept where you are at a particular low moment in life, which allows you to move ahead. "Everybody loses, we all have bruises". I do have a busy couple of days ahead of me but I will be busy doing what I like best: writing. The magic of writing, or any art for that matter, is that it is organic, the final form cannot be conceived in advance with any degree of precision. It flows from a place deep inside us, and grows. The last sentence might sound terribly pompous, but I have lost count of the number of times a difficult writing project has turned out well. It is healthy to be reminded of one's weaknesses from time to time,  to acknowledge them and move ahead.  

This Is Where I Am

Adrienne's words from one of her yoga classes came to me today and I immediately felt a wave of relief. "This is where I am and this is what I am working with". 

The day began well. No sooner had I got into work today than I got a mail saying I had been selected for a two-week summer school in Northern Italy. I wasn't expecting it as it was supposed to for advanced PhD students, so I was delighted. I spent the next two hours letting family and friends know and looking up visa rules. But as the day wore on, I began to feel a little stressed as things seemed to be moving too fast. Within five days, I had been invited to two conferences and accepted to summer school. I had my work cut out for the next two months and I didn't seemed to be making much progress with my ongoing writing task. What if I ended up with a shoddy piece of work? What if I wasn't satisfied with my work? Did I deserve so many things going my way?

And then, as I gazed out of my office window, Adrienne's words came to me. Not to be happy with shoddy work but to accept how I am feeling about it today. That insecurities are not just natural but an intrinsic part of the writing process. To have faith that I would pour myself into the project and end up with a satisfactory piece of work. That there was nothing to do but immerse myself in the process and embrace whatever it threw my way. I know I sound kooky but there is something to be said for surrendering. I don't see surrendering as giving up but an acceptance of one's lot at that particular moment. Like taking a breather. Not everything in life has to be a struggle, and certainly not all the time. Hard work and struggle are not synonymous. 

Two Rants

Today, my day took a wrong turn in the evening and just kept getting worse. For one, I felt like my rear tire was going on its personal speed bump with every turn of the wheel. I thought I had filled too much air while topping up my tires yesterday but it turned out that the tire was semi-deflated. I had actually let air out while trying to fill air! I took my bike to the gas pump which had vexed me the previous time. I had ended up deflating my tire instead of filling air, and this time was no different.  And, then as I was finishing cooking dinner the top came off the salt shaker as I was sprinkling it and dumped a large heap on my food. I tried to scoop out as much as I could, but the food still tasted very salty. To top it all, I was quite irritated by my current housemates. One is a really sweet middle-aged Spanish lady who is studying English, and she doesn't lose an opportunity to practice on everyone she meets. The other one started bitching about my landlord within two minutes of meeting me. From that moment on, I got a very icky vibe from him.
I am reasonably happy with my living situation but housemates are a lottery. The two things that can cause irritation are bathroom use and kitchen use. Thankfully, Europeans are not too fond of washing, so they don't hog the bathroom, even though they don't always leave it clean. But, some people have a tendency to hog the kitchen, which can be annoying.
Now on to my second rant--the long days. Early mornings and evenings are my favourite parts of the day because they encourage dreaminess an contemplation. I often get my best blog ideas during these times. But, now with the longer days, both are elusive. 

Back Home

Yes, Home. It might be a shared AirBnB house and living here can be quite a trial sometimes, but it is still home. Because home is not heaven but a base to return to at the end of the day. If it were heaven you would never leave it in the mornings. A home is familiar, a space that you can adapt to your body rhythms and, if you are fortunate, to your emotional rhythms. Of course, the space for that is limited if you are in a shared home or if you lack financial resources. But, everyone does the best with what they have. Home is where you don't feel like a guest, where you don't feel like you are beholden to someone else's generosity or sense of duty. Living in a shared house with the owner can be trying because the owner's territorial instinct often flares up. It is tempting for him or her to see every minor misdemeanour of the housemates as stemming from a lack of concern for a house that isn't theirs. Sharing a living space with someone requires trust and forbearance and the option to sequester yourself from them when you don't feel trusting or patient. Being a renter allows you to distance yourself from the owner and claim a right to the place, although of course that right is revocable. When you are staying with distant family or friends, that is not an option.
When we use a space we imbue it with meaning. The longer we live in a space, the more creative are the ways we use it in and the more meanings it has for us. Of course, not all meanings are positive.