liminality

I. Before

Norman fucking Rockwell plays and suddenly I am no longer driving in broad daylight. I am in the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other adjusting the volume to the same song. Goddamn, man child. Lana Del Rey’s first line comes on, and I wonder if he registered the lyrics too. I am caught in a slow crawl somewhere in the city centre, rain on the windscreen making the lights a hazy blur. “How can you focus on adjusting the music volume when I am trying to tell you something you have done wrong?” I am not paying attention to him. I always find myself too slow to respond. His tone grows louder. The accusations keep on coming. The quieter I am, the angrier he becomes. I do not remember a single word he says. I wonder whether I will even get to the location on time. I want to be anywhere but listening to this tirade. Everything I manage to say sounds too careless and insincere, fueling his rage further. Are you even human? He shouts. You aren’t trying. At some point I give up freezing. I scream at him to stop until I can no longer hear him. Until he is satisfied at the reaction he could get out of me. I no longer care about the event I wanted to visit so badly minutes ago. How did we get here? The anger only stops when I fight back, or show signs of breakdown. Norman fucking Rockwell continues playing in present time, but no one is in my passenger seat tearing my sanity apart. I am all alone.

II. Temporal

Wordlessly, my laptop is pushed closer to the centre of the table. I do not look up. I have become fearful of taking up too much space. I’m fine, I usually say, as I cramp up my workspace to allow more for the other person sharing the table. There is the briefest moment I held my breath, waited for a sign of reproach. A stare, a sigh, a reprimand. Be patient with me, I want to say. I watch the hands that moved my laptop go back to work. Later on, I would watch these same hands prepare our meals or check my figure 8 knots before I climb a route at the gym. The mistakes I make, be it burnt garlic, or a hand that goes too close to the belay device, are met with nothing but composure and occasional light-hearted teasing. Let’s start over. Surprise strikes me once again when I am shown how rolled chords in Clair de Lune can be played. There is no ounce of frustration from this person guiding my stiff fingers to do better. Gradually, I grow a little braver and ask for more attention from these very useful hands. A rub for my almost constantly tense neck and shoulders, please. Hold me just a little longer, will you. I have never felt more at ease.

III. Headspace

Open your eyes, look. Look at the unedited report before you. A blank document for a new press release to finish before midnight. All this information on too many websites that I have to absorb while applying for a doctorate. I close my eyes at every rollercoaster ride, and I want to close them at every other encounter that terrifies me. Fatigue overtakes and I forget that I am capable. I succumb to sleep so, so many times. The right words that I am looking for are always out of reach. Someone points out how I let my sentences trail off midway. I catch myself saying, I miss my old self. She had so much drive and wonder. I look at other applicants sharing their application process on forums, reading their long list of achievements and experience makes me think – can you have impostor syndrome if you do not even qualify?

IV. E-mails

Dear Ashley, the book chapter you wrote is getting published (painstakingly done, few words per day, over the first lockdown). Here is a pdf copy for now. Dear Ashley, we would like you to take up this short-term role/ task (isn’t it a wonder how in the midst of a pandemic work offers of sorts still come to me and are often also good learning opportunities). Dear Ashley, we are pleased to offer you an interview (despite being the last application I have submitted over this application cycle, and at the very last hour). Hi Ashley, here’s what I think would help you prepare for your interview. *lists XYZ* Although it can be hard to believe this, know that the program wants you as much as you want them (immensely thankful for the essay advice on how to prepare for a doctorate interview, I must remember to get this Samaritan a meal someday). Dear Ashley, we are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted (for the first time I can remember, I am crying big, fat tears of relief instead of sadness and anger).

V. Unlearn/ Learn

There are five parts on this self-care assessment that I am filling up – physical, psychological/ emotional, social, spiritual, and professional. While tallying up my score, another participant on the Zoom session I’m in jokingly remarks, “If it’s not difficult, it’s not self-care, it’s self-indulgence.” At one point of this distraction-filled season of sorts, I recall waking up to a reminder that stood out among a sea of other notifications, asking me to take care of myself; my throat tightens slightly and there is a weird feeling of dissonance that I will not understand until much later that I was reminded of how much more ground I have yet to cover when it comes to serving my own needs. After a decade going from partner to partner, I have cultivated reliance even when often there is nothing solid to rely on.

In a dark room, two pairs of thin arms close in on me as I let myself cry. These are the moments I will learn to love and cherish, from people who have shown consistency in their words and actions, who stay for the right reasons. I let curiosity lead the way with every small step, further away from fear, opening myself up to the unknown.