Premonition
Posted on March 30, 2017 8 Comments
I left my wee one lying there
A crying and alone
The moon she saw me flying there, flying there
The moon she saw me flying there
To the lake all on my own
The wind he heard me crying there, crying there
The wind he heard me crying there
And now my baby’s gone
“And now my baby’s go-.”
The last syllable of the lullaby entwined with a sob in Revathi’s throat. She fell into silence, still gripping the edge of the crib.
Sun Salutation
Posted on March 25, 2017 3 Comments
Om
Aruna sat as cross-legged as she could on the narrow strip of foam optimistically passing for a yoga mat. This was her first time in this group.
Inhale
Oh-exhale-mmm. Rise into mountain pose.
Aruna scrambled to her feet, hands still palms together in front of her.
Arms pointing to the sky. Stretch your fingers to the ceiling and your tailbone to the floor. Read More
Orange skin
Posted on March 25, 2017
“Mama, Mama, look!”
Little chubby hands grabbed at the hem of her skirt. She smiled and reached for the child. She’d never imagined her heart could be so full.
“What, baby? What do you have there?” she asked, settling him on her hip.
A Day In the Life Of: Parenting Depression
Posted on March 17, 2017 2 Comments
CONTENT NOTE: Discussion of depression ahead. If you recognise yourself or someone you love in anything in this post, please reach out to mental health services in your area. Some non-emergency services listed at the end.
The Greeting.
“Hey! How was school?”
“Shit. As always.”
Breathe. It might just be a flippant “shit” this time. Stay cheery, or at least noncommittal.
“Why? What happened?”
Cheery. Cheeeeer-y. More perk required.
“Nothing. It’s just the same as it always is. It doesn’t matter where we live. I’ve got no friends. It’s just the fucking same everywhere.”
Not flippant. Shiftuck*. Breathe. Don’t panic. Remember to breathe.
Every day we do this Paso Doble, a repeated pattern of feint and thrust. Some days there are friends, some days there are not. But the absent-present friends are just a placeholder, a marker on the mental health gauge. There really are friends, of course. Plenty of them. But when you’re a depressed teen, friends become “associates” and the urgency of life is overwhelming.
Remember that? Remember being in your late teens and feeling like NOTHING WAS EVER GOING TO HAPPEN IN YOUR LIFE BECAUSE IT HADN’T HAPPENED YET AND OH MY GOD WHY OH WHY OH WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE THIS AGE AND STILL BE SUCH A FAILURE AT EVERYTHING AND NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE YOU AND WHY DID YOUR MOTHER JUST ROLL HER EYES AT YOU WHEN YOU INSISTED SHE ORGANISE AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE FOR YOU WITHIN THE NEXT YEAR? No? Just me? Okay then.
But it’s not just me, is it? At least the first part of that, not the arranged marriage part because that’s my own peculiar neurosis, is being played out in my kid, in your kid too maybe, in far too many kids.
In my day, kids weren’t depressed in the epidemic proportions they seem to be now.
Yeah, but they were though. We just weren’t so good at recognising it or giving it legitimacy in kids then. And we were pretty awful at taking it seriously, or getting an actual diagnosis or action plan in place.
Kids were also not encouraged to report feeling overwhelmed or unable to cope with the rigours of life. Seeing a mental health professional was the purview of middle-age, not teen-age, and medication was self-administered, over the counter, and/or illicit. I can’t remember a single person in my last year of high school admitting to seeing a psychologist, but the list of people who drank too much, went to every party, smoked weed, or engaged in some other high risk behaviour is very long.
Let’s just say mental healthcare in the hands of depressed teens isn’t a good strategy.
Conclusion (hint: it isn’t really).
So this day-in-the-life-of-parenting-a-depressed-teen, much like the one day in the life of Ivan Denisovich, feels confined, bleak, and endless.
Tomorrow won’t.
Or maybe it will.
Australia
Lifeline 13 11 14
Suicide Call Back Service 1300 659 467
Beyond Blue Support Service 1300 22 4636
Headspace 1800 650 890
Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800
MensLine Australia 1300 78 99 78
International Helplines can be found at this Tumblr post
*Oh, c’mon now. You can work it out. Say it quickly.
A Colonial History by any other Name Would be as Violent
Posted on January 25, 2017
Huzzah! It’s January 26th in Australia. The day our nation officially goes into meltdown every year over whether we should celebrate or not.
Then and Now
Posted on October 30, 2016 1 Comment
Gather round, grab a bean bag, get comfortable. I’ve got some things to get off my chest, so let’s start with my story of expatriation and repatriation.
Fashionable and stylish on our departure from Brunei
On the 1st of February 1975, my parents and I arrived in Australia from Brunei as new migrants. My mother was 41, my father 47. I wasn’t yet 6 years old. My siblings would join us from India a few months later as we set out to reunite the family. Through a series of circumstances and choices, we found ourselves uprooted both from the home my parents had created in Brunei, and from the boarding schools my siblings had called home for so many years. We were flung together, casting about for a foothold in our new country, our new home, trying to stitch up the edges of a family.
Big Moves
Posted on October 13, 2016 5 Comments
So much has happened in the last two months and there’s so much to catch you all up with. Let’s start with the big things.
We moved countries! Again!
On 17th birthdays and glimpses of the adult
Posted on August 17, 2016 6 Comments
Image by Ed Schipul/Flickr
So, here I am very early on Godzilla’s 17th birthday, resting on the corner of Testosterone Lane and Horsepower Road. Having two teen boys in the house means a lot of muscle flexing, boundary pushing, and territory marking. They wake with teasing exchanges that rapidly morph into the rat-tat-tat of suddenly flared tempers. And before long, like two elephant seals, they’re bumping and jostling each other over the most trivial of things. Left to their own devices, I’m sure they’d find a way to argue over two flies climbing up the wall.
Rebuilding Democracy
Posted on July 15, 2016
I wrote this a while back. Still seems relevant.
Apartheid imprisons Equality.
In darkness and solitude, segregated for colour, it breeds with Revolt to produce swearing, jostling words plotting escape.
Freedom creeps out one night, slinking past guards, disguised as Non-violence. Opportunity seeks refuge and gains followers in New York and London.
After twenty-seven years of forced quiet servitude, the prison doors are flung open.
Ideals teeters cautiously, uncertainly at the threshold of its long walk to freedom.
Harmony rolls up its sleeves and rebuilds the nation.
Rebellion and Resistance fall silent, but the heat of their simmering, throbbing heartbeat pulses in the veins of Democracy.
Asha Rajan 