Tag: health

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Musings

The Reckoning


In mid-2020, while the world was going through an upheaval, I got the opportunity of a lifetime: to turn my passion for writing into a profession. It was a dream come true: combining my love for writing and teaching with my experience in UX design. At the Interaction Design Foundation, I met and worked with some of the most brilliant minds from across the globe. I had opportunities to travel and grow professionally, eventually leading the editorial team.

In three and a half years I grew and changed as an individual. It was the most fulfilling role I’ve had in my life and for that, I will forever be grateful. But it came with a cost.

Some people say that we must not mix passion with profession. We might lose both! Others say that we must be in love with our work so that we don’t actually “work”. I realized that there was another angle to this debate. In my case, I was so much in love with my job, that I lost myself in it. I spent such a long time doing what I love for someone else, that I was too exhausted to work on the stories I wanted to write for myself. I adopted the brand’s voice and lost my own.

Before I knew it, my body started to hurt.

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, I could see where I was heading. It had been close to eight years, but memories started haunting me. It was a different time, a different company, but the pain was eerily similar.

I used to struggle with lower back pain. Most days it would be okay. And then every now and then it would flare up. And when it did, it made my life a living nightmare. I couldn’t sit, stand, walk, or even lie down without jolting.

I went to several doctors and popped all kinds of pills. Everything seemed to work for a while. And then, everything stopped working. I continued soldiering through the pain.

I was practically second in command in the company. I couldn’t take too many days off.

My family pleaded with me to leave my job. Angry and in tears, I fought with them. I stood my ground. To them, I was stubborn. In reality, I was scared.

Our society places a premium on being employed. Our worth and the respect we command are based on what we do in life. The last thing I wanted to be was a housewife. Housewife: that word is so demeaning that we now use different synonyms to make it sound like we appreciate that role: a homemaker, family manager, home engineer. But call it what you will, it is subtly associated with someone who doesn’t earn money or have status in public life. Since my childhood, I was conditioned to believe that choosing not to work was synonymous with being useless. The ultimate humiliation.

I needed to work, not for the money, but for my self-esteem.

Meanwhile, my attacks were getting more frequent. There were days when I couldn’t get out of bed. I began missing important meetings. It got to a point where I felt I might be fired. So, I finally took the most difficult decision of my life. I told myself to quit.

Quitting a job without another in hand and with no financial safety net isn’t easy. I had no choice. I needed to fix myself.

Understanding my predicament, my employer suggested that I take a break, and use this opportunity to start a freelance career. “Take a month off. We can work out a part-time contract. We’ll be your first clients.”

Perhaps it was that reassurance that I’d still have something to come back to, that helped me relax a little. I tied as many loose ends as I could, handed over my work and signed the offboarding documents. I still remember that metro ride home. My body writhed in agony every time the train stopped. My colleagues pitied my plight.

The first few days of my unemployment, however, had a profound impact. To my surprise, I felt like a big weight was off my shoulders. More importantly, I realized that being employed wasn’t the sole purpose of life. Contrary to what I expected, I even enjoyed being at home. “You look happy,” my uncle remarked when he saw me shortly after my newfound freedom.

I also learned that patriarchy—that thing that I always complained about—was helping me. When I met an ex-colleague a month later, he remarked, “You can afford to quit because you’re a woman. No one would say anything to you. I wish I could also quit my job.”

I am not going to defend patriarchy. But I can better explain feminism. It is not about men being subservient to women as revenge for centuries of oppression. It’s about men and women both being allowed to live their lives the way they’d like to, without having to live up to certain expectations from society or being judged for their life choices and circumstances.

Workplace dynamics aren’t built for everyone. And I realized that the work environment I was in, wasn’t built for me. I didn’t form any meaningful friendships at work. The office was in a basement, devoid of sunlight. While I learned a lot and did meaningful work, at the end of the day, it didn’t pay as well as a corporate job would’ve paid me. I wished I had quit sooner.

If I hadn’t quit, I wouldn’t have become a freelancer. I began working remotely much before the world discovered it. Money wasn’t regular, but that didn’t matter. I was a master of my time and priorities. I regained my health and felt physically and mentally fit.

I had the capacity to work on side projects that mattered to me—like online workshops in storytelling and composting! I vowed to not work full-time again.

That vow, however, didn’t last long. Three years later, I randomly applied for the role of writer at the Interaction Design Foundation and turned out to be a perfect fit.

Fast forward three more years. My backaches were coming back, and this time, they were bringing more mysterious friends with them. My body was showing signs of unrest. I had to act fast before it turned out to be an all-out revolution like my last full-time gig.

I’d quit once before. It should’ve been easy to take that plunge again. But like the last time, I fought with my family and lingered on. This time, for very different reasons. I loved my job, the people, and well, the paycheck. This was the organization that made me realize my worth. Money sometimes acts like a golden noose. The string is always in our hand, and money makes us pull it tighter around our neck.

I debated hard with myself for several months. Eventually, I decided to pull the plug again. And like last time, it was only after I left that I realised why it was important for me to have done that. I had sacrificed my voice for someone else, and it would take several months for me to regain the courage to write again.

Related Posts

When life kicks you in the back

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Miscellaneous

When life kicks you in the back


“So, how many months?”

My spine arched backwards, my left hand supporting my lower back, I inched forward and into the physiotherapist’s clinic, wincing with every slow step.

“Oh no! I’m not pregnant!” I replied.

A little embarrassed, the doctor apologised and asked me about my backache.

“Four-five years?! Why on earth did you not get yourself treated all this time?” Her response was a mixture of surprise, sympathy and anger.

‘Coz I didn’t have the time

I had consulted a GP, an internal medicine specialist, an orthopaedic, a super specialist spine surgeon, an Ayurvedic physician, a Kalari gurukkal, no less than four homeopathic advisors (two of whom are family members) and got three x-rays, an MRI and countless blood tests spanning over six years.

The Ortho told me to visit a physio, the spine surgeon prescribed some exercises and the ayurvedic doctor advised a massage. My Kalari guru diagnosed my problem by just looking at my foot many years ago and scolded me several times for not getting the treatment done at his clinic.

But I followed none of their recommendations. Why? Because I had no time. It was as simple, common and pathetic an excuse as there could be. Every time my lower back protested against me, I took a day or two off from work. And things would be back to normal – or as close to normal as they could be. 

And even now, I probably wouldn’t have been sitting in front of the physio, had another consulting doctor not referred me to her when I limped, in extra slow-motion, on top of the examination table.

“Well, atleast you’re here now. It’ll take time. And a lot of effort on your part if you want to lead a normal life. But it is not impossible,” said my doctor, calming down, having overcome her initial surprise.

The able-bodied cripple

My muscles had lost all strength. There was inflammation in my joints. My nerve was getting compressed. The painkillers were of no use, and added to my problems with their side effects. I could not sit, stand, walk or lie down without excruciating pain.

Funny how I always complained of not having time. Two weeks was what my Kalari Guru had asked of me. And now, I had taken three full weeks of medical leave from work. It appeared that my body was teaching me a lesson.

During those three weeks that I was at the rock bottom of my life – physically, mentally, and emotionally – my support system stood rock solid.

I stayed with my convalescing parents – my mother was still recovering from chikungunya and my father had been afflicted by dengue less than a month before. My husband managed our household single-handedly despite his insane work schedule. Setting aside their own inconveniences, they supported me unflinchingly.

The startup I work in, allowed me the leave of absence. Any other company would have let go of me like a depreciated machine (humans are, after all just another replaceable resource).

I took a hard look at what got me in this place. I looked for something to put the blame on. But deep within, I knew I was the culprit. And something had to change. I needed to change.

My boss had been telling me to relax and loosen up for months. And even as I complained of my pain, he said “it’s largely psycho somatic you know.” It hurt. It hurt a lot. I knew my pain wasn’t made up in my head. But this statement struck deep within – not because it was a false accusation but because it was partly true. As I browsed through the Materia Medica, I found that frustration and anger were also likely to cause back aches.

This breakdown was a warning. And if I didn’t mend my was, I won’t get another chance. The workaholic, always-available, Kasturika had to go.

I told myself: If it isn’t going to kill anyone, then work, no matter how exciting or pressing, can wait. My life and health are now my priority.

I decided to give up, albeit temporarily, that which I loved most – writing. Health first, I told myself. My bestselling book will come. Have patience.

It has been three months since my medical crisis, and I am in many ways a different individual than the one who crawled in to the doctor’s clinic tenderly. I have followed my physio’s advice as closely as I can – my muscles are slowly regaining their strength. But these are just baby steps. My joint still flares up every now and then when I strain myself too much, or skip a day’s exercise. My family and company have continued to support me in this duration and if it weren’t for them, I’d be in shambles.

I now have hope that I may be able to practice Kalari again. My physio says it’s unlikely. But the hope is there. In this roller-coaster of a journey, the worst days are definitely over.

Keep chipping away, one day at a time, my muscles tellme; take good care of yourself, the ride is just beginning.

Categories
Musings

Injecting sunshine?


Three hectic months. Two people*. One project.**

We stumbled, fumbled, messed up, and from being way behind schedule, made a last minute dash towards the finish line. The hangover from our project took a month to get over, and our hard work paid off in the form of a third place award for 2D animation.

Things were beginning to return to normal – I was catching up on my assignments, and my team member picked up a job.

But that’s when it all really started.

A shooting pain went down the left side of my lower back. It must have been a sprain I picked up while running to catch a bus last winter. It had troubled me a lot at the time, but had disappeared in the summer. I went out for a walk, and the pain subsided. I began walking regularly, expecting that it would heal over time.

Then, on a cold December morning, the pain increased exponentially. I mustered up courage to take a walk with my mother. Holding on to her shoulder, I limped at a snail’s pace. Ten minutes later, she said, “That’s enough – we’re going to the doctor”.

Four days, three blood tests, two X-rays, one diagnosis. Blood sugar – normal. Blood count – normal. Bones, muscles – no issues detected. Vitamin D3 – negligible!

The doctor wasn’t amused. Heavy dosage of vitamin supplements daily, extra heavy dosage weekly, and rather painful injections monthly. And of course, a long lecture on the importance of Vitamin D3, and sunshine. Once word got out, in came a flurry of forwarded emails, and anecdotes about lots of people suffering from the same condition.

‘Oh! These days everyone seems to having that. You must spend time outdoors, you know.’

‘My colleague fell down and broke her bone’

‘I wanted to change my work timings so that I could spend some time outdoors. My boss wasn’t happy. He told me to go get injections. His wife is doing that’

The television and newspaper joined the party, and began informing me about it too.

I learnt a lot… The deficiency of this vitamin is apparently linked to obesity, diabetes, and even cancer. It also inhibits the body from fixing itself. Perhaps that was the reason I never recovered properly from injuries. Although Vitamin supplements are available, the one produced naturally is the best.

Sunlight is required to assimilate Vitamin D. And so it is dubbed the ‘sunshine vitamin’. As it turns out, the phrase has a figurative meaning too. Being exposed to the sun also affects our mood.

Living in the tropical region, I always wondered why sunny days were ‘happy’, and the month of May was considered ‘merry’. Personally, I prefer a cloudy day. But science has confirmed that sunshine makes us happy, and a lack of it, gloomy and irritable.

I began spending more time in the local park. One day, after walking, I stepped off the jogging track, and took off my shoes. The damp grass tickled my feet, and invited me to stay a little longer. I obliged by lingering on… I lay down on my back and looked up at the sky, and I wondered, when was the last time I felt this good…

Our lifestyles have changed drastically over the past few decades. And it is leading to an increasingly large number of problems. We live in an artificially created environment, barely move our limbs, and are married to gadgets.

We are not computers, we were created by nature. That is how we have survived for so long on this planet, and no matter how far science progresses, we cannot create a sun, and definitely cannot inject sunshine.

* * *

* The People : my partner-in-crime – together, we’re guilty of creating a monster! He’s recently started blogging.

**The Project : I’d like to think the project was responsible for several of my problems, but it probably just aggravated something that has existed for years. I’ll explain all about it in the next post!

Related Post – Interview In A Dungeon

Categories
Musings

Interview In A Dungeon


A few weeks back, I went for an interview conducted by a super secret unidentified company. Since I am still studying, and will probably want a job soon, I shall refrain from mentioning the name or location of the company.

The interview was short – just a few questions like why I would want to work there, and whether I knew what kind of work was being done. The rest of the day was spent in giving the ‘test’ – and it was really enjoyable. I was given a storyboard, character and background graphics and voice over. I had to string them together into an animated clip.

The office was located in an obscure location – locating it was an adventure by itself. And when I entered it, I took an instant dislike to it. Although it looked large from the outside, it seemed to lack space inside. The windows were covered with black paper and there were millions of lights on the roof. This got me thinking, why were the windows constructed at all, if they had to be covered up. And what’s the point of covering up natural light, and installing so many artificial lights?

But despite my initial dislike, I loved the work that they did. As I mentioned earlier, I actually enjoyed what was supposed to be a test!

I requested a lunch break, and was readily given one. There was a small grocery shop just next to the office and I enquired whether there was any place where I could get a decent meal. The lady said, well, if you have some packed lunch, you can eat with me… otherwise, there isn’t any such place around here. I accepted her offer of company and bought whatever she could offer by way of food. I casually enquired about the company and her opinion of the people who worked there. Satisfied with her response, and the ‘meal’ of juice and cake, I resumed my test.

My interviewer shared her concerns regarding the fact that I lived far off and the working hours were not fixed. But I had a much bigger concern.

Working for long hours in an environment that provides absolutely no natural light is disastrous. After personally experiencing consequences of working in such an environment for just three months, I can testify that the employees’ health will deteriorate without them even knowing about it.*

I understand that this is the case practically everywhere on the planet, and for some technical reasons, shutting out real light and living in an artificially created environment is justified. But an organisation should allow (or maybe force) employees to leave the office premises and enjoy some fresh air and good old sunshine.

If the lovely lady and gentleman who interviewed me are reading this, I hope you will still welcome me to your office, should I come begging for a job (I love the work!). But I also hope you will consider that the poor work environment is perhaps the reason why you have such a high turnover in the first place.

Healthy employees = Happy employees = Low turnover + Better Output

* * *

* I will leave the explanation for another post!