05. The (Two) Weeks of Intense Discoveries

Just wild.

[TW: This newsletter mentions emotional & physical abuse in the second part, please refrain from reading if you are sensitive to this topic. It also contains spoilers for Made In Heaven Season 2]

Hello, hi, how’ve you been?

I didn’t keep my promise, did I? Last week’s newsletter never arrived and this week, it is late. But I actually did keep my promise. To myself.

When I started writing this newsletter about a month back, I promised myself that I would never pressure myself to publish an issue. It is a passion project, and your passion doesn’t need any pressure. It flows best when it is unencumbered by expectations and created out of free will.

The last couple of weeks felt like a month. Besides the general exhaustion (that I must do something about), so many revelations, and so many discoveries were crammed into these two short weeks. I almost lost my sense of time.

Last weekend, I hosted a friend from college whom I hadn’t seen in almost 8 years. She was an intricate part of my memories from 2011 to 2014. We were part of a group of friends who truly fitted the term ‘home away from home’ for the first time ever. They were the friends I spent Fridays getting blackout drunk with at the Ladies’ Night of a questionably-named pub a short drive away from our campus. They were the friends I celebrated birthdays, festivals and ends of semesters with. They were the ones I cried to, shared food with and experienced most of my firsts with.

When the two of us were sitting on my couch, in a home that I share with my long-term boyfriend, on a Sunday morning, I realized how far both of us have come since our early 20s, all-night, unbothered, partying ways. She is doing her PhD at Harvard and I am working at my (almost) dream job. We both live with our long-term partners in houses we love and have the amount of freedom we could have never imagined at 20. We also prefer going to bed early and chatting over home-cooked meals and hot chai.

We have grown up. And the funny part is that, back then, we thought we never would.

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On Wednesday last week, Prime released the new season of my favourite Indian TV series, Made in Heaven. Trust me when I say this, I have literally waited years for this to happen. I was ecstatic, so Alex and I sat on the living room sofa, all set up with drinks and snacks.

But when the groom in episode 2 assaulted the bride a day before their wedding, I felt sick to my stomach. For starters, he had the same name as my abusive ex. I think Alex felt my body stiffen and touched my hand. I looked at him and smiled and said, ‘He has the same name as my ex. Guess, it’s a thing for people with that name?’

I can make light of it now, but back in the early 2010s when the emotional abuse progressed to physical abuse in my then-3-year-old relationship and then lasted the next 3 years of the relationship, I was not very different from this bride who still went on to marry her abusive fiance.

I forgave my partner with every apology. I forgave after every ‘incident’. I forgave him even when my friends told me to give him the boot. I forgave and forgave and forgave till one day something snapped and I saw the ugliness for what it was. It took me a whole 3 years to step out of that vortex. And my body kept score. I still shudder at loud noises.

Years later, he would tell me, ‘We dated years ago, why do you need therapy for this now?’

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On Saturday, my body ached from the lack of sleep. I had stayed up late scrolling through Google Photos from my early and mid-20s, deleting the ones that brought up bad memories and decoding random whatsapp conversation screenshots.

I had a 10.15 boxing class booked. I decided to cancel it and preemptively book a 12.15 session. I made myself coffee and breakfast. But as the clock inched towards 11.30, I found myself slipping into making excuses of exhaustion and skipping class. I hyped myself up under my breath, telling myself to get out of bed, and get dressed – those are the hard parts, the easy part is the class.

At 11.15, I pushed myself out of bed, pulled my workout clothes on and thought, let’s take a photo to add to my progress album. I always joke that this album was proof of me getting progressively fatter.

But as I swiped between the last two photos – one taken on May 15 and another on that day, August 12 – I felt my energy seeping back into me.

I looked fitter, my posture more confident, my stance stronger. I sent them to my trainer, Archita, and wrote a message gushing about how thankful I am.

I thought about all the times I had bought year-long gym memberships and never showed up. I always hated the smell of sweat and metal mixed together, or how my body felt after a workout.

I never remembered how exhilarated I felt when I lifted the next heavier weight, fit into a dress or when my skin glowed from the regular exercise. A lot of the negative emotions came from my ever-expanding body image issues and the fact that my body didn’t match the standards of what people call a ‘fit person’.

But, guess what? I am a fit person now. Even if I wheeze in the boxing class after 6 burpees. Girl, I couldn’t walk 5 mins before wheezing 5 months ago, so six-full-burpees-with-actual-pushups is a great fucking achievement.

Come fight me if you don’t agree, I know how to 3-6-jump-1-2-1-duck. 😉

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Finally, thank you for being here. Thank you for telling me how much you like what I write. You make my week when you like, comment, and tell your friends to subscribe.

Some parts of this week’s newsletter might have been uncomfortable to read, please tell me if this made you feel bad despite the TW. I generally go for relatable when I write my pieces but I hope you don’t relate to some parts of this one. If you or someone you know is having similar experiences with DV, please talk to someone you can trust.

Until next time stay safe, stay confident, stay healthy,

Sanj 🫨

[PS: This week’s title is inspired by The Year Of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion which is what is keeping me up at night right now, other than Cat Reels.]