Life throws up surprises at every moment. Those that delight us are enjoyed and savored, while those that come as shocks throw us off keel many a times. It is each individual’s capacity to spring back that is the determining factor in overcoming adversity. I faced one such difficult situation about a year ago, when my mother passed away after suffering for four years. At that time, Moore’s words came back to me often:
Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!(1-10)
One would have thought that life would become easier, but things seemed to become worse, as I slid downhill, in grief. It was then that I decided to plunge into writing, to heal my aching heart, to let memories fade away, and to give me something to look forward to.
I had always enjoyed writing, ever since my school days. At that time it took the form of snippets for the school magazine, essays, and stray ramblings meant for my eyes only. College saw longer articles with submissions to newspapers, and even poetry. However, along with these came the need for a career, and I was told that studying English would land me nowhere on the ladder to success. Acquiescently I joined the world of finance and surprized myself with the good marks I received. Deceived into thinking that this was an indication of my prowess in finance, I forgot all about my writing and put the writer in me to untimely sleep.
Decades passed, as I seemed to become unhappy with myself, ridden with diseases that knew no definition and defied treatment. They were niggling illnesses that left me below par and gave rise to a terrible lack of confidence in myself. Then, when my mother’s life came to an end, something stirred inside. There was something that wanted to come out of me. I looked around for anything that would take my mind off my grief. It seemed to be providence that stray small reminders to pick up my writing started to jolt me now and then. If it was not someone who needed help with his/her homewok, it would be an advertisement in the papers that would catch my eye. “Writers needed,” they would read; “work from home” they would say. Just thinking about it would soothe my aching heart for a while.The day I finally picked up pen and paper was my secret rendezvous with myself. Unseen, I scribbled out large emails to friends who wondered what they had done to deserve these! I wrote introductions to stories that never saw the light of day. Slowly, my heart began to hurt less and less.
Initially, it was as if my mother was all around me. If I turned my head, it was as if she had just moved away; if I had to leave home, I would suddenly find myself wondering what would happen if she needed me. As I tried to immerse myself in my writing, I could forget her for stretches of time altogether, till the intensity of her memories started fading over time. I could relate to this line almost instantly, “The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium” (Platt).I could start to remember her smiling face over the suffering that had been etched on it in the last few months. My eyes would no longer blur when looking at the computer screen, my pulse would not race as rapidly, thinking that I heard her calling me in plaintive tones. I was getting over the situation, handling it my way, at last.
I began to look forward to the days to come. I could hear the birds chirrup once again; I could wonder at the half formed new leaves, unfurling bravely. My thoughts were no longer with what had been, but with what could unfold. Every day, as I sat down to write, the words would come gushing forth, spawning ideas that I wanted to share with everyone. I wanted to encourage those who were going through similar times; I yearned to tell them that life is beautiful, and meant to be lived. I rediscovered the precious gift of writing, and I rediscovered life.
I have shared how I utilized the process of writing to overcome a difficult phase in my like. This helped me get over heartache, loneliness and grief. There is a process to resolve every problem. It is up to each person to discover what this is, anew, or draw it out from within. There is an adage that it is easy to identify when one starts to age; this happens when one starts to look back. Nobody need look back; the solution is in front of each one’s eyes. Each challenge faced successfully builds the conviction to step out and face the next one with confidence, and begin all over again.
Chillibreeze's disclaimer: This is a contributed article and was published on Chillibreeze in November, 2009. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not reflect the views of Chillibreeze as a company. Chillibreeze has a strict anti-plagiarism policy. Please contact us to report any copyright issues related to this article. The relevance of the facts and figures cited (if any) could change after a period of time.
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