2009

Spent the last 2 hours of 2008 with some friends. I have to admit that I didn’t really want to be there. I participated in conversation but my mind was strangely (well, may be not so strangely, given I’m often talking shite) away. It’s not the company, although watching my paired up friends, the feeling was the familiar feeling of “unbelonging”. The thought again floated in my mind, “would I be alone forever?” The answer was unnecessarily clear. I am just psychologically unfit to be in intimate relationships. I think I’ve finally forgiven my father for having a stroke. I’ve finally managed, over the last few weeks, to spend time with him, in such a way that was pleasant for him. I didn’t feel angry any more, when he couldn’t get his words out; I finally managed to look into his eyes. This is 15 years later. I can only be thankful that he is here for me to reach this stage of acceptance. I realise how selfish this sounds. I can’t explain the anger I felt, as if he was responsible for having the most frustrating disability at the age of 57. He’s lived almost a quarter of his life in this horrible desert island of dysphasia. What has he done to deserve a daughter who only yells at him whenever she takes him out? I wonder if he sat in his little apartment and wondered. May be the progressive decay of vascular dementia have spared him of that insight and in that way, is a blessing. It always infuriated me when I offered him things, and he would always say “no”. When he asked me to do things for him, I would feel infuriated by his disability. And each time when I walk up the stairs to my own home, guilt twists my insides and I had nowhere to hide. I think I’m actually angry at God that injustice should occur on such an innocent man (tautology, I know). In “shrink speak”, my anger at life was displaced onto my dad. I don’t know what changed in me. I finally managed to treat my own father, the most gentle and kind person I’ve ever know, with the same compassion I show in such a nonchalant way each day at work. May be it’s a true weariness of my own mortality at this stage of life. While the crowd celebrated, friends snogged and hugged, welcoming the new year, I wondered, “how many more new years do I have?” Not your most celebratory thought. As one new year merges into another, time seems to gather speed and take off at alarming rate. As I was telling my friends last night, when kids are young, more memories are laid down via learning, but as the world becomes familiar, less and less new experiences can act as anchor points for memories. Hence time seems to pass quicker as we age. I digress. May be it’s the paradoxical sense of loss, since I’ve passed the clinical exam. Things seemed to progress to unbelievably smoothly that I keep expecting something drastic to happen to me. The fragility and futility of life impressed on me. May be having been denied for 2 years the fellowship but being granted it in such a dramatic way, I couldn’t blame God anymore. Dad certainly doesn’t need me to be angry for him. I hope I won’t be expressing the same regret on facebook next year. I am grateful for my brother and sister who can be my dad’s pride and joy. Gosh, relationships with my family is complicated enough, don’t need any more.