The Ever Shifting New Normal

Torn from my mother's womb I come into this world, and into the newest of new normals, simply being alive, and yet had I not already been alive for nine months, suspended in a primordial soup, awaiting my entrance into existence? One new normal shifts into another, seamlessly as eyes blinking, lungs gasping and guts awakening, finally I am born.

Life itself, an onslaught of ever shifting new normals hoisted upon unsuspecting me leads me down a merry path of constantly adapting before really mastering any one stage, from  wailing to talking, walking to running, growing so quickly my clothes seemed to shrink and my shoes are discarded with unworn soles. Phenomenal growth is the new normal with milestones looked for, boxes ticked and happy smiles all around for my every performance of normalcy.

School becomes the next new normal, and the longest marathon I will run in pursuit of an education while glued to a chair; my head filled with ideas that long to take flight but are caged by routines and rosters, teachers and tests, and slowly, the new normal became one of losing my innate passion for curious learning and explorative thinking as rote and repetition ruled the day. 

Then that new normal turned on its head at university and asked me what I thought, why I was, what I lived for, what my hopes and fears were, and if I understood the words and thoughts of others before me. Could I step out of my ever shifting new normal and into theirs, and understand what they felt, and understand myself and the world better?   

And so shocked was I by this change of affairs I struggled to find my voice and upon finding it I realised so few spoke my language. Tutorials meant to be arenas of debate became farcical when faced with so few who could or would embrace the newness of critical thinking, a new normal our education thus far had neglected to inculcate in us. 

Feeling the weight of imposter's syndrome, and struggling to feel genuine pride in my achievements, I wondered if the next new normal in the working world led to a deepening authenticity or was more of the same; muddling along hoping I knew what I was doing, somehow doing well, but always wondering if there was more,  feeling that something was missing, and whether my voice could hold its own in the world. 

But before that voice found its pitch, before it learnt the note that carried its message best, it found love, and buried itself in making another happy. The new normal of married life descended upon me with accompanying clueless bliss as we generously overlooked our failings in finding our feet as newlyweds navigating a brave new world while looking through the rosiest of tinted lenses, and everything was simply beautiful. 

Motherhood, that strangest of new normals that signals the end of your life as you once knew it, heralded by physical pain as your body rips apart to bring forth life... somehow this new normal is the most frightening and yet most rewarding, with every fresh day bringing a renewed newness to normalcy and an upheaval of preconceived ideas of life as you thought it should be, and what it actually is. You step outside of yourself, watching your children grow, and growing alongside them, letting go of expectations and embracing reality. It is a lifelong balancing act that you practice but never perfect.

The cord is cut, the bond deepens and yet with every passing year you grow closer to moving further apart. It is a drifting that begins imperceptibly and then accelerates and before you know it, you recognise that you don’t really recognise the other in the same way; the child is no longer a child.  The only constant is change, your feelings are tossed to and fro and nobody can really understand you, except perhaps your own mother, whose new normal you once were. The eyes of your heart are opened and you finally truly understand her, and a new normal descends upon your relationship with her. You are finally wiser. 

Your health begins to suffer, with age or stress or genes or whatever it is that robs you of energy, and soon with the passing years a deepening exhaustion becomes your new normal. On some days pain is your new normal for a time, as is a season without food, and forced extended rest. You endure this season as your newest of new normals but tell yourself the time will come when things will change, for the better. This too shall pass. As it must, with change being the only constant, and you live in hope, as you must, for without hope your soul will perish. 

Then one day, the new normal you thought was a passing phase was actually the slow death of love that you didn’t recognise, and love leaves your life, ripping your heart out of your chest, and shattering everything you once held dear. The new normal that descends isn't hatred, but a growing indifference as you slowly mend your broken heart, piece by piece, forcing yourself to believe that beyond this new normal state of numbness lies a resurrection of all that is left, of yourself . You've been in denial, prayed for a miracle as you wept in grief, turned your life around, reinvented yourself, done everything you possibly could and love would not be revived, but you will endure and rise again. Grief battles anger, and your new normal is turbulent until you accept what is and peace falls. The newest of new normals then is an embracing of solitude and all the peace and beauty that it brings. It is good, because you want it to be good, because finally, in your heart of hearts, you know and believe that you are good and deserving of happiness.

And then suddenly, Covid-19 takes the world by storm and yet another new normal appears, forcing itself upon us, and yet it isn't entirely new to have new normals thrust upon us, they have been shifting beneath us from the very beginning. All of life has been an evolution of new normals in a sea of constant change. Each one rising from an ocean of uncertainty, pushing us forward on waves of progress. You must move on, you must keep going, whatever it is, stay afloat, make headway, no matter how small it might be. More new normals will come; the nest will empty, the heart will break again, the body will succumb to illness flares... up and down, and up and down, and all along this crazy rollercoaster ride you are alone, and the knowledge of your aloneness is not frightening, it is simply life. 

You finally understand that only you can walk in your shoes and you must wear out the soles, and make the journey count and embrace each new normal with joy and gratitude. As long as new normals come your way you are alive. When I look at my life thus far in perspective, Covid-19 seems almost inconsequential. This new normal will simply be absorbed as part of my lived and personal history and replaced by newer normals in due course, with the final one being my own death and transition from life. In my story, my last new normal will be that I no longer exist. The ever shifting new normals demand that we learn to ride the shifts with them. I welcome them, I choose to evolve with them, and I shall bid them farewell when I go. Nothing lasts forever. 

Pav (2nd August 2020)

I Am Truly Grateful

It's the end of 2019, and I have been reading so many inspiring stories from my many friends about how they have overcome so much, faced changes, made important decisions and generally persevered with life and being alive, one step at a time. I want to thank you all for being heroic in your own way, and for being inspirational even if you do not know it. I have learnt a lot from you, and from life itself. We are all on our own heroic journeys, triumphing over ourselves, and overcoming obstacles in our way. Well done, everyone, for making it through 2019! ❤

This year, I learnt to close the door even more on the past. It's a process, and I am clearly moving forward. There is no going back, no looking back, no wanting or mourning what was... just so much more of wanting something new for myself. The past was good, but the future will be better, and every present moment is truly the best. I've learnt to live more in the moment. Far more appreciative of the love that I have in my life, and I have so much, my cup overflows. I am truly grateful.

This year I had various hospitalisations, multiple procedures, seasons of starvation, a semi permanent line in my arm, loads of nasty meds, an angry abdominal abcess, a possible fistula, a definite intestinal perforation and a necessary surgery to cut away 40 cms of useless guts. But hey, I still got plenty guts! And I am able to eat now and slowly energy levels are returning. I am truly grateful.

I do have guts, because I bounced back despite all that to finish my MA in Counselling, ending with 2 High Distinctions and 6 Distinctions. Thanks dear friends and family, for the support and encouragement and for cheering me on even when getting out of bed hurt so much and writing 4000 words seemed impossible. Somehow, I made it through, and I'm done with the MA. I am truly grateful.

This year my kids and I had lovely holidays in new places, made memories for a lifetime and discovered 7 days on a catamaran together may be 2 days too long but can we do it all again some day! It was beautiful watching my children enjoy themselves. Their happiness is my happiness. I am truly grateful.

This year I faced myself squarely and told myself that I had been suffering from some form of traumatic stress resulting from all that had happened to me over the past 6 years... and I needed to proactively heal all that and find a way to keep moving forward at the same time. Recognise the pain and hurt but do not linger there, keep forgiving and letting go, constantly moving forward, investing in new friendships, new adventures and new joys. Self awareness is so important if we wish to grow. I have learnt a lot about myself and I love myself more today than I ever have in my entire life. I am truly grateful.

Today, I look back over the year and as it ends I see that we are all well, safe, thriving where we have been planted, and happy. My children bring me more joy than sorrow, and I look back at all my times with them and I cherish so many beautiful memories. Can life be better than this? It could always be, but truly, my heart is content, and I am glad my kids and I have made it thus far. I am truly grateful.

I have faith that God walks with me, hope that my future is in His hands, peace in my heart from His presence, and more than enough love because He loves me more than I can ever know. I am grateful for my blessings, not so much for myself, but more so because in the year to come I hope to be more of a blessing to others, not only as a counselor, but especially as a friend. Someone on your journey in life that will walk with you in happy and sad times and that you can lean on. May I be a true friend.

May I continue to bless you, dear friends and family, in whatever way possible in the year to come. May you be a blessing to those who need you in 2020, and always. Wishing you and yours all good things, always, and especially a heart of gratitude. ❤

Thanks for reading,
Pav

My Smile

MY SMILE

I smile because you need it far more than I do.

What my smile does for you it cannot do for me.

It helps you think that all is well but my heart knows otherwise.

Maybe your heart knows too.

Maybe my smile is just a lie we both understand.

"I'm fine", my smile lies, saying what you want to hear.

"She's lying", your mind says, knowing I will say what you want to hear, what you need to hear, and no less.

But for how long can this lie live on and hearts not crumble from the weight of truth unspoken?

I'm not fine, and you cannot bear the truth of that.

And I am tired of lying to help you feel better about yourself.

My smile is no longer for those who need only the sunshine and fear the rain.

I smile for those who remain with me in and out of season.

To you my smile says, "With you, I'm fine".

And you think, "With her, I'm fine too", knowing you are all she wants and needs and nothing more.

- Pavitar Kaur Gill
6th April 2019

(Thanks for reading!)

Pain, an Aid to Rest and Reflection

What is pain? Might pain be a reminder to us that we are simply human? Might pain be a way to force us to slow down? Might pain be God's way of getting our attention?

There are so many kinds of pain. Pain in our bodies, in our hearts, in our minds. Pain that cries out loudly demanding that we notice it and address it. Pain that whimpers quietly in some corner reluctant to take centrestage and yet ever present in its persistence.

Pain can be deeply visceral, or remotely peripheral, and either way it calls out constantly. Hear me, feel me, acknowledge me; I am real. Out of desperation we seek to dumb it down, to numb it, to escape from it and even deny it, because pain is simply too painful.

But what if pain wasn't something to escape but something to embrace? What if when pain floods our nerves and senses and we feel overwhelmed, that pain can teach us something? Lessons in our mere mortality can be best learnt when our bodies are under threat or attack. Pain can slow us down and force us to think about our lives, what they mean, and the meaning we want to make of our lives. When you're forced to rest your body but your brain keeps going then maybe reflection can take place, and with it, a revelation of meaning and purpose in life may come.

With chronic illness the threat or attack to the body is a constant one. To live in a continual, heightened state of battle readiness, fighting forays against a perceived enemy, experiencing the wounds of hurt, pain, loss, grief and anger, one could easily feel trapped in a depressing cycle.

What choice is there, then, but to embrace every aspect of chronic illness, including the pain, so one can find a way to live peacably with it? How paradoxical it must seem to be fighting a battle against illness, and yet being forced to accept it so one can live sanely. That's the constant balance required, between fighting and accepting.

Those whose bodies are healthy can never truly understand that tension because for them the choices are easier. It's about maximising every minute in some economically measurable, productive way that is quite possibly the opposite of reflecting while resting in pain. Somehow, I think we only really come to a place of reflecting and seeking meaning and peace in life when we realise we are in some kind of pain. If we are honest and face up to the reality of our ever present pain, no matter what form it takes and which part of us hurts, we will realise that our pain is calling us to rest and to reflect.

For the chronically ill, hurting physically easily leads to hurting on other levels of being and the pain multiplies over and over. Pain is a constant and unwelcome companion that we somehow learn to live with. In fact, many chronically ill people remain cheerful in the midst of their suffering.

People often remark on my cheerfulness. What other choice is there for me? To be anything but cheerful is to begin to lose the ongoing battle against illness, and to fail to truly and graciously accept it and its limitations. To be less than cheerful is to place a heavy burden on those around us who may not understand or be able to help us. To be cheerless is to give in to self pity, and to deny the will of God that allows pain and suffering in my life. I have no choice but to be as cheerful as I can, because nobody else is responsible for the joy I find in my own life.

Often, nobody really understands the impact of chronic illness until one has it themselves. That's life. As is the constant presence of pain, in some form or other. All part and parcel of life. May we listen to our pain and respond to its call to rest and reflect and find meaning in our sufferings, whatever they may be. May we face our pains head on in the search for meaning, and not choose to escape from them. May we embrace the will of God, that for reasons unknown to us, allows pain to draw us closer to Him.

Thank you, God, even for my pain, and may I draw strength from you as I rest and reflect. May your peace descend upon me as I find that balance between fighting and acceptance, and may I remain ever grateful, even for pain.

Thanks for reading,

Pav

Humanely Healing One's Soul

On days when I am in pain, or feeling down, whatever the reason, I try to tell myself that life is still pretty good and really, that I can't complain. And so I don't, or at least I try not to, but I think that I am doing myself a disservice of sorts. I should allow myself to feel my pain, to acknowledge that I am sad, or depressed or hurting, no matter what my seemingly happier circumstances may be.

While I remain grateful that I have a lovely home for now, have food if I can eat it, have beautiful children who love me, have a wonderful helper, have two crazy dogs, clothes  etc and all my basic necessities met and then some... I think it's important to be able to feel those so called "negative" emotions even if I have all those things.

Every so often I am told to count my blessings, and I do find that extremely useful. Gratitude helps and I remind myself of that. What troubles me is the lack of validation for my feelings, by me and by others. Surely my feelings are just as valid as anyone else's or should they be dismissed out of hand because I am blessed with so much?

Sometimes feelings of sorrow or grief cannot, and should not, be suppressed by forcing one's self to be grateful. They fester, like a bad wound that never heals. Sometimes these feelings need a good airing without being restrained by having to count one's blessings all the time.

Sometimes misery is simply miserable. But not forever. It does look towards blessings and begin counting them, but only if it has worked its way through the soul. I don't think misery can do that if gratitude suffocates it in the first instance. So yeah. Some days when I feel saddest I don't plan on counting my every blessing too quickly. I don't mean to wallow in misery either.

I just want to acknowledge the validity of my feelings no matter how wonderful my life is supposed to be. I think that will make me more human. It's certainly the more humane way of dealing with my own soul. Being kind to myself includes patiently listening to and sitting with the pain and hurt, sorrow and grief that I face. To suppress or ignore them is to oppress my own soul.

Plenty of time to count my many blessings that are so obviously present in my life once I have looked my pain in the eyes, and wept beside it, and embraced it, and let it go. Then I can look at the blessings, and healing, already begun like a bud in spring, will bloom in my soul. And always, the knowledge that this process will repeat itself, over and over again, and perhaps the pain will dim in time, and perhaps it won't. But that's perfectly fine. That's life.

Thanks for reading,

Pav

Musings on my Counselling Internship

One of the frustrating things I have struggled with on my MA in Counselling internship is the fact that very few clients actually want to find solutions to their problems. They mostly want to vent. There I am, listening closely and picking up on issues to follow through on in our therapeutic conversation, all the while trying to stay mentally present rather than planning interventions to address problems on the spot. Listen, listen, listen. 

And there they are, going round in circles talking endlessly about their problems, and just letting it all out with no sense of ownership of issues or any idea of the need to break out of the negative cycles they are trapped in and resolve their problems. Talk, talk, talk.

Perhaps this, too, is counselling?

Maybe for the first few sessions people really do want to let it all out and vent away, largely because they have not had a chance to talk to anybody about their pain and problems yet. Maybe all they need is the sense of relief and release that comes when one human being unburdens to another. Maybe that catharsis begins the healing process, and then one can talk about interventions and plans to deal with problems later on.

Empathic listening is the primary skill needed by the counsellor, in the first instance. And bucket loads of patience. Oh, and the ability to set aside one's own pain while addressing another's. We are, each of us, wounded healers bringing our pain with us to every encounter with other wounded healers. That's why counsellors need counselling too. 

Knowing the theory and practicing it are separate things too. Acknowledging one's own need for help keeps things authentic and real. Experiencing the relief of unburdening to another enhances one's ability to identify with others in need. I know counselling, whether  venting or problem solving, works because I have benefitted from it too.

Counsellors should never stop receiving counselling themselves, whether it's the venting or the problem solving kind or both... keep it real by being real. Think I may be due for a few sessions myself. "Counsellor, counsel thyself" doesn't work. I tried. I vented away but was a rather poor listener. :) I am glad it doesn't work because it reinforces the notion that the human element is important.

The other person in the therapeutic relationship is essential. The other wounded healer, knowing that their wounds allow them to be sensitive to yours but not overwhelmed by either party's wounds. It's a dance of sorts. Time for more lessons, more practice, new shoes, fresh music, a sparkling repertoire of new steps and always the flexibility to adapt to just about anything. Bring it on!

Thanks for reading,

Pav

I Can Change

A beautiful morning walk at 615am today. As I trudged along enjoying the various hues of blue in the sky as the day broke, I reminded myself that while night gives way to light and this daily change is constant, in life there are many instances where darkness never brightens and the only constant is the inability to change. No point asking others why they cannot change. They like to hide in the dark. No point asking others why they remain shallow and superficial. They just are that way. No point feeling frustrated and upset by their inability to be authentic. They just don't know how to be real. The only thing to do is to keep changing and evolving myself. Live in the light of God's love, accept people for what they are, and keep seeking depth, connection and authenticity in others. The right people will come into my life. Keeping the doors closed on those who do not belong in my life is always a challenge because clean cuts are not always possible. Accepting these people as being quite the opposite of everything I stand for and yet being gracious and kind to them is neccessary. That's a tricky balance. Today I am struggling with it but I choose to see it as part of my evolving and transforming into something better. Because I can change. Looking for ways to be a better version of myself. Always.

Thanks for reading,

Pav

Choose the Higher Road of Grace and Mercy

On some days when my morning walk doesn't happen, I find myself in bed, staring at the ceiling and ruminating. Often, some sort of epiphany occurs, convincing me, yet again, that exercise is somewhat superfluous.

Today, as I lay in bed, I wondered why people can hurt us so deeply and think that what they are doing is perfectly acceptable. They betray you, deceive you, crush you and yet each time they see you they act like nothing has happened. In fact, they expect to be shown grace without even the slightest acknowledgement of wrong doing on their part. All that matters is that they are supposedly happy in their own lives, even at the expense of the happiness of others.

And then it came to me. They act that way not because they are sociopaths or psychopaths with Machiavellian tendencies. They act that way because they know you have already forgiven them for all the past hurt, the present pain and the future grief. They behave the way they do because they glimpse the grace and mercy of God Himself in you, and while they can never acknowledge it for fear of incriminating themselves, they need it to keep going.

It's the very air they breathe but they don't see it, or perhaps they do and they can never say that they do. That would require an authenticity and honesty that they do not have in them. They cannot fully face their inner demons and so their lives are a continual facade of fakery. You see it and you wonder how they live that way, in the shallows, while you dive deep. But that is them.

What of us? How do we continue to relate to them in these circumstances? We must resist the urge to trample the other to the ground because they have trampled us beneath their feet. Instead, we continue to show grace, not because it is easy but because it is difficult, and also deeply transformative. We resist the voices that clamour against these acts of showing grace and mercy that claim we are "enabling" others to misbehave, or "cheapening" God's grace. There is no such thing.

We are simply shifting the balance back to the other and his relationship with God and his own personal accountability to His Maker. It is no longer about our pain. If others hurt us, the Beloved of God, they hurt the very heart of God. And always the gentle reminder to one's self... if we hurt others, the Beloved of God, we hurt the heart of God Himself. God's grace is made more precious this way, and his mercy is like a healing balm when we accept that all are the Beloved of God. Resist the foolish wisdom of this world that would deprive you of this beautiful opportunity to be that channel of grace and mercy no matter how others treat you. Embrace it, and be transformed by it.

We rise above the moment and take the higher road, remembering not to place ourselves on a pedestal and hasten our own fall, but to remain humble in the process. The pain is truly humbling, the hurt is our best instructor, and our grief is a reminder that God's grace abounds especially when we are broken, and if we allow His light to shine through.

So let others be whatever version of themselves they choose to be. Choose the higher road in all humility. Prefer to think that those who hurt us can see the grace of God at work in us and need that grace to keep going themselves. Let them go to relate to their God as they wish. Then it will be between you and your God, and in the end you will not be ashamed when you stand before Him.

Thus endeth the lesson for today. Need breakfast. Man shall definitely not live by early morning epiphanies alone. Toast is always welcome. Happy Wednesday, dear friends. Be blessed. Be grace filled, gracious and full of gracias!

Thanks for reading,
Pav

Suffering is Transformative

It's baffling to hear someone say that God gave them peace to crush others to advance their own happiness. I would say "It's amazing what we can get away with when we make God in our own image." Yeah. Some day it all catches up. When you stand before God how will you answer Him?

The pursuit of temporal happiness here on earth involves fashioning God according to our own selfish desires. We can get away with practically anything then. The pursuit of eternal joy, however, involves dying to self so that we may be fashioned into the image of God.

Everyday is a new day to gaze upon God so that we may be renewed and strengthened and reflect His likeness accurately and honestly, living lives of transparency and integrity. May God give us the strength to choose to die to self every moment of every single day.

Gazing upon the Cross helps us die to our selfish nature, being immersed in His Word transforms us by the renewing of our minds, and the understanding of the depth of God's love for us makes it all possible and palatable no matter how painful and how deep is our suffering. Christ Himself died on the Cross. Can we, as His disciples, expect not to suffer?

Suffering brings us closer to God. Lean into our sufferings, do not run from them but embrace them, be transformed by them and as we gaze upon God we shall become like him. Thank you, God, for the pain and hurt, and for being there in the midst of it all. So grateful for Your loving presence. Lean in, dear friends, suffering is transformative.

Thanks for reading,

Pav

Anthony Bourdain: Loved Because He Was Broken.

So many beautiful tributes online for Anthony Bourdain. One of the most touching things I read was that he was so loved by many, not "despite" his brokenness and personal pain, but "because" of it. It's an important distinction.

He struggled with addiction and depression and chose to keep going day after day doing what he loved. It required him to show up and be somebody in front of cameras. Yet he was authentically himself, and unapologetically so. He lived as a genuine person, with integrity and honesty. He spoke unabashedly and from the heart. Or maybe the gut. His opinions were always his own, nobody could say he was anybody's man.

And always, beneath his slightly cynical veneer was a glimpse of passing vulnerability laced with a touch of acidity, as if life itself, while delicious, was giving him indigestion. His was a tasty mix of irreverence, cynicism, wit, intelligence, and charm. All wrapped up in a devil may care attitude that said, "Take it or leave it, this is me. It's who I am. I can't be anybody else."

People like him may struggle with feeling out of place all their lives, journeying towards the next adventure, and the next, on and on, in hope of finding that something that heals their pain, and a life truly worth living. It's Everyman's journey, really.  Perhaps people saw something of their own pain in him, and identified with his brokenness. Maybe he grew tired of wrestling with whatever pain he endured. It happens.

You grow weary of carrying on, secretly knowing that only death can end your suffering. It's sad that he saw no other way out. Life is a difficult journey and so many of us die while we are yet alive. I think he felt he was dying on the inside for some time. Depression does that to a person, and death beckons as a welcome relief. Death, while a mystery filled with the unknown, is that one last adventure for us all. I wish he'd been able to resist it's call for now.

Rest in peace, Anthony Bourdain. Yours was a life genuinely lived and you were true to yourself. Not many of us have the courage to live that way. And thank you for taking us along with you on your travels and foodie adventures. The simplest of joys that you savoured around the world resonated with us wherever we were. A plate of food united us all.

Thanks for reading,

Pav