Wednesday, May 21, 2014

From grieving to obsessing......

How much can one grieve over a lost purse? I guess grieve would be a wrong word..I guess I should say, obsess! That's what I have been doing since my purse got picked at a railway station. It is not so much about the money that I lost, it is more about the pride that was hurt. I have always been proud of being a very careful person when I travel. I don't recall having lost anything ever, not even a small key chain. God knows when, but someone managed to open my bag and flick my purse. I was horrified to say the least! The thought of a thief stealthily picking my purse without my knowledge, was insulting! How, where, when, my mind tried to analyse, but found no answers.

It is in situations like these that we are most likely to jump to conclusions. Could it be that lady who sat close to me on the platform as we waited for the train? She did look suspicious! Maybe it was the strange looking fellow who almost pushed me as I boarded the train? Who stole my purse? With no answers coming forth,my mind would not be at peace!

Writing has always helped me channel my mind whenever I have been lost. And that is when the first piece came up, “The sighting”. I couldn't let myself be judgmental, because I didn't know for sure. No one could be guilty until so proved. I couldn't think ill about someone, I didn't know if he or she was indeed the culprit.

But that didn't end my misery. I still missed that old purse. With that was born the second story, “The search”.  And I tried to convince myself, that true happiness and love lies in the confines of our heart and not in materialistic things. So why get attached to something as worldly as a purse? That did make me feel a little better!

The way my mind flowed from one theory to another, from one story to another, sifting between possibilities, made me write the poem on the fickleness of the mind, "Flowing like a river"

And then came the last story, “Labour of love”. That was based on the thought that, what if there was a mistaken identity due to a purse being stolen? There were a few more stories being churned by my imagination, but suddenly it felt enough.  Like writing about it, and then turning a negative feeling into a positive one had me redeemed. I no longer missed the purse and decided there would be no more stories on it! The obsession ceased to exist!

I think we all have some way to get over bad news, bad feelings, or bad events. It is about convincing yourself that it is ok! And that it can happen to you too. No one can do that convincing job better than yourself.  For me, writing always helps. It is like a catharsis to my emotions and feelings.

How do you deal with it?

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