Butterflies and Hurricanes

Well, well, well. A moment of silence for all my grandiose plans of updating my blog timely. It seems the older I get, the more difficult it gets to express my truest emotions. It’s as if my thoughts are getting chunkier, and the sieve of my mind, finer.

When I read my old posts, it almost feels like I was trying too hard to sound like someone I wanted to be, and not so much who I actually was. Over the years I’ve found myself returning to this space when I’ve been in the throes of an emotional crisis. It’s only fitting that I’m here again. Though I wouldn’t call it a ‘crisis’ so much as a momentary lapse of reason (and sanity).

In the heart of winter, I sit alone on my bed at 2AM, with only the sound of my air purifier (yes, we need those in the capital) breaking through the deathly silence of the night. With no traces of sleep, I find myself going back to the same questions all over again. Why this? If not this, then what? And when? Why anything?

As an effective antidote, I’ve realised reflecting on the last few years helps put things into perspective. As a friend once pointed out to me, “The rearview mirror is always clearer than the windshield.”

So here goes.

I’m so happy I’m married. Em. Eyy. Arr. Arr. Eye. Ee. Dee. I never thought I would utter these words, but god, even typing them out here is making me tingle with excitement. I’m so happy I could burst. I have a house with the exact white curtains and potted plans I had once pictured. I have a fair idea of who I am and what I like. I have a job I don’t hate and co-workers I enjoy with. I’m married to an incredibly warm, sensible, sensitive man who loves me for exactly who I am. I come home to my best friend who loves chai and long, winding conversations and The Office and James Blake as much as I do. I don’t even know how all of this happened. But it did. It did, and I’ve decided not to question it, but to bask in the glory of this time. (And to keep my expectations low from myself). Life is too short to not live in the present.

I spent the better part of the day with my head swirling with self-doubts. It felt congested with questions about my capabilities, my self-confidence (or lack thereof), my own drive to do well in my career, my skills, my impatient attitude, my wavering beliefs, and my self-destructive tendencies. But for now though, I want to lock it all up in a box and keep it under the bed. There are far too many wonderful things that have happened in life, and that are unravelling right before my eyes, and I want to take it all in. I’ll tuck myself in my soft, double-flannel blanket, kiss my husband goodnight and start tomorrow with a fresh cup of masala chai.

I’m Astha Prakash. Twenty-eight, married, and surprisingly content with life. Nice to meet you.