Beginnings, Endings, and the Journey

Once again, I find myself thinking about beginnings and endings. There are many beginnings: a new year is upon us, I am finally - 8 years later - getting my driving license, I have a new housemate, my host country - USA - is about to inaugurate a new president in two days, and this year's Valentine's Day will be more than just loving myself. There are endings too: I am a few months from graduating from Stanford with my second - and I pray final - degree, I am about to wrap up my 5 years of therapy, and this past weekend my extended family lost yet another matriarch. As I have recently discovered, I struggle through endings because I often fail to let go and allow transitions to take place. 

The ending of my therapy journey in particular is an important one because seeking therapy is one of the best decisions of my life. In 2016, I had the foresight to exploit the privileged position I had as a result of my affiliation with both Stanford and the MasterCard Foundation. I pulled a few strings and was connected with a black therapist who has been nothing but amazing. I was having a difficult time adjusting to life in the US, especially given my mother's illness. I felt guilty about "chasing the American dream" when my sisters had the burden of caring for my mother by themselves - making huge personal sacrifices in the process. In all these years of therapy, I have had the space to unpack hurts and traumas that younger versions of me had buried deep in the subconscious mind. 

It was a slow process that at times felt pointless. I mean think about all the work we have done on grief alone - anticipatory and otherwise. One would imagine that when loved ones pass away, all that work will shield us from that pain and loss. But no! Each loved one who passes away breaks the heart as though it has never known pain before. For all the different kinds of hurts we worked on, I realize the point was not to make sure I never feel them again. Instead it was to equip me with the necessary tools to be able to weather whatever storms I might encounter. One of those tools have been to allow others to be there for me.

The traumas I experienced in childhood, including those that I did not recognize until more recently in my adult years, planted seeds of fear in me. I was afraid that if I relied on others to support me, they would let me down as some had before. This was at odds with the communal being I am at my core. Therapy allowed me to begin conversations with perpetrators of my traumas and those that were complicit in my pain. These conversations revealed a scary truth: more often than not people hurt others not from malicious intent, but the ignorant failure to interrogate their actions. This scary truth allowed me to see the ways in which I was very similar to these people, whom I blamed - rightfully so - for my emotional scars.

It was not hard to forgive them once I realized the ways in which we were similar. I then switched my focus to "unlearning" these toxic traits I inherited in our patriarchal society. I imagined that at the end of that process I would be the perfect person, inspiring love and peace in every interaction. In the past year I learned it is an unattainable goal because some of the hurt and conflict in society stems from misperceptions caused by incomplete healing. While I cannot prevent the incomplete healing of others to misperceive my actions, I can still use all I have learned to be and do better. Especially since the principles I aspire to live by are for myself and not for others. I have nothing to prove to anyone, except in the ways they hold me accountable to my own standards. 

As I wrap up therapy, I am confident it has given me the tools to succeed. It has allowed me to unpack emotional wounds from over the years, understand them, and make peace with them. I do not say heal them because healing is a lifelong journey. For as long as I live, I will always be in a state of healing. I am especially confident because I am blessed to have about twenty five individuals on three continents who I consider my close friends. The fact that when our matriarch rested two days ago I was able to reach out to them and ask them to keep my family in their thoughts and meditations shows I am learning to let others be there for me again. From this I  know I will be fine. In the same way I go for regular medical check-ups and dental care, I imagine a mental health check-up will be a part of the intentional life I plan on living. But for now I will be letting go of this chapter and allow the transition to happen.