“Stop obsessing over your son,” hubby dearest chided me. “He
is 10 now. He can take care of himself. How long will you continue to hover
over him like this? If he is more than 10 minutes late, you call the driver, if
I am 10 minutes late, you start calling me, and sending me messages. It was ok
as long as it was me, but now at least spare the poor child.” The sermon seemed
never ending! He said a lot of other things, which my mind did not even
register. Yea, I have this innate ability to selectively hear things and screen
out what I don’t want to hear!
The situation in question was an impending trip to Kanyakumari
with the school karate team. As in the past three years, I had flatly refused
to send him anywhere out of town, on his own. Hubby had not taken very kindly
to my refusal this time. I didn’t want an argument, so I did what I do best in
such situations; I walked to my room leaving the conversation hanging in mid
air and hubby throwing up his arms in despair.
How unkind! Obsessing wasn’t even the right word!
This word was being used too often nowadays, and it certainly wasn’t making me
feel comfortable. As if hearing this term from my hubby wasn’t enough, a dear
friend said so in as many words. He felt my constant need to keep communicating
was suffocating. I don’t know when my son will begin using that term!
I know what ails me, of course I do. I have been
living with it practically all my life, so my actions are quite rational to me
at least! I have been contemplating
talking to these people about it but this has never been a topic I have wanted
to talk about. How do I explain that I wasn’t obsessing, it was not even just
concern; it was something deeper, something more rooted in my subconscious….it
was fear.
I must have been about 12 or 13. It was the day of the result
after the final exam. I remember it was the 7th of May. I had fared
quite well and had been excited to share the news with my closest friend, N,
who lived a couple of streets away. I remember that I wore a green polka dot
skirt and matching top. I told my mom and hopped to my friend’s place that afternoon.
As I climbed the steps to her apartment, I saw that a lot of people had
gathered there, and even more in my friend’s house. I tried to get in the house
but an uncle stopped me. He told me, “Beta, go home and tell daddy that G uncle
has passed away.” G uncle was my friend N’s dad.
I remember feeling shocked and scared at the same time. Death
was not something I had dealt with before. I remember running back home
debating with myself if I should tell dad ‘the news’. I remember seeing dad
watching TV. I remember running to him and sitting on his lap holding on to him
like a baby monkey would hold on to its parent. I also remember not telling him ‘the news’ at all. I didn’t want
him to go and see G uncle. I was terrified that something would happen to him
if he did. He read the news in the obituary the next day and was sad that he
couldn’t go see his friend one last time. And I remember being anxious
wondering what he would say if he knew I was aware and had not told him. Luckily
that never happened.
It has been more than 20 years since that day, but every
detail is so vividly printed in my mind like it was yesterday. It is
surprising, since I am quite an absent minded and forgetful person. I am the
kind who walks to the refrigerator to take out something and forgets what it
was as soon as I open the door. So to remember an event that happened 20 years
ago, for every day of my life after it happened is nightmarish to say the
least.
People have strange fears and some of them are quite
irrational too. This event happened so long back when I was just a child but it
left a lasting fear of losing a loved one in my mind.
At that time dad worked with a bank and was quite active in
theater. So after banking hours, he and his team would gather for rehearsals
and he would often return home late at night. I remember always being anxious
till he came home. I remember never sleeping a wink till I saw him back home
safe. I was always the one to open the door whether he came home at 1 or 2 pm.
When the bus he was travelling in turned turtle near Shiridi during one such
tour for a drama competition, I remember being distraught to the point of being
delirious till we heard that he was well. And then I shifted to a new city, got
married and found a new family but the anxiety to know that he is ok never left
me. I call dad at least once or twice a day to keep checking on him.
With marriage, the anxiety spread to my hubby. Hubby’s works
calls for late nights too and the anxiety over his well being got added to my already
tense mind. Hubby has often wondered aloud why I have to keep messaging him
every hour to know when he will be back and to know if he is ok. I didn’t know
how to explain it to him.
My elder one is on that list too. He is a black belt in
karate, and has won several awards in local competitions, but when his karate
master requested me to send him to a tournament outside the city, I panicked. I refused to send him citing his young age. I
have been citing the same reason for three years now and master was quite angry
with me when he said, ‘It is because of mothers like you that talented kids
like your son will not prosper.’ It hurt me to be spoken to like this, but I
haven’t changed my stand yet. With mounting pressure from my son to send to
send him to the competition this year, I am already panicking. If his school
van is late by 10 minutes, I keep calling the driver to find out why the delay
happened.
Oddly, I am not plagued by this fear when it comes to my mom
or sister or even my little one! I cannot understand why that is so! Apart from
these 3 men, there are two of my closest friends, whom I’m anxious about all
the time. One of them is a 17 year old friend, D, and the other is S, someone I
know just since 3 years. Why the fear is selective, I have no answer. My friend
of 17 years,who is more like a brother I never had, just lost his mother and I was worried sick if he was ok. I was
calling him every waking hour.
I have this constant
urge to know that all is well with these 5 men in my life. So I have to keep
communicating with them and not getting a response makes me miserable.
Dad is of course a sweetheart; he loves to hear from me
anytime of the day, and never minds how often I call him. But the other four are quite the opposite.
While hubby is quick to show his irritation at being sent so many messages
every day, the elder one cannot understand why mommy has to be so unreasonable.
And S even told me that my constant need to keep communicating makes him feel
trapped.
I just hope I don’t
have additions on this list. I cannot bear to keep worrying myself sick about
more people. And I cannot bear the thought that these men think I’m obsessing
over them or I’m possessive. I’m not! I also hope these men read this post and
know that I’m waging a battle with myself every day, trying to be sane yet losing
my mind and sleep over them. I wish they’d show me some love and let me know they
are OK. Communication is my only medicine and by denying me that they drive me
insane!
