The Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul

You know I am a mom, right? And sometimes, the mommy job requires that I bare little buttocks, and swat them soundly. Other times, it means taking a distraught child, curling her against my body, and offering what comfort I can with my words, my arms, and my love.

Today, while you may be hoping for the former, little Askers, you're getting the latter.

When you happen onto this blog, you'll immediately think, "fuck me with a chainsaw, another emo Indian kid blog." Don't. And, don't roll your eyes at me, either. I don't care much for student blogs, but for some reason, I want to take this girl, wrap my arm around her, and tell her that life will be okay.

New is hard. And, frankly, it sucks ass. You are living in a new town or new country, far away from all that is familiar. You want your mom to be there when you're sick. You want to walk down a familiar street. You want the friends who've known you for years. You want home, and all of the ten million tiny details that are encompassed by that word: the scent of home, the familiar faded curtains, the furniture that bears the scars of recurrent collisions with your body parts, the stain on the rug from red nail polish when you were 16.

Ms. Gruntle is young, and she's learning a hard lesson: once you leave, you can never really go home again.

Oh, you can go back to the same place, but you'll have changed, and so will that place. And, the people you knew there will have gone on in your absence, and they'll have changed, too. Some things will be the same, but there will always be jarring absences, strange pauses, stories you didn't participate in, and new and disconcerting shops, restaurants, houses, and people.

Welcome to Adulthood.

All you can really do, Ms. Gruntle, is document the journey. Fill your blog with all the details that you WANT to remember from the trip. What you don't write down will get lost: faded, fuzzy, and forgotten.

And, if you want to document your journey for the rest of us, do this:

1. Add an "About Me." I want to know why you are in the United States, what you hope to accomplish, and a bit more meat about who you are besides the fact that you run "like a mole." You don't have to give incriminating details (Calamity and I had a long convo about this very topic - blogging anonymity - over drinks on Fridya night). But, you do need to give the readers of your blog a backstory to fill in the gaps, so we know what the fuck you're talking about.

2. Give more details that are relevant to the story. Instead of telling us that you miss the smell of a particular place, tell us what the smell is...tangerines and almonds. Or, fried dough and turnips. Or, my favorite written description of New Orleans: Roses and sewers. Let us miss it, with you. When you talk about depression, don't tell us you're sad, tell us how that sadness FEELS.

3. Let go. With everyone else, we say, "edit, edit, edit." With you, for now, I'm going to say, "stop editing." Let it flow. Give yourself 30 minutes, write whatever your are feeling, even if it is nonsensical, and post it. Then, let it go. If you can't do that in your blog's present form, find some kind of anonymity that allows you to do this. Anonymity is hard to keep, but it is valuable. There is one irony about blogging that never ceases to amaze me: I can tell horrifying secrets to strangers that I'd never tell close friends. If you lose the anonymity, you've lost that opportunity.

4. Write, everyday. Do it because doing so will help you, personally. And, here is how: It's been 5 months, and you're in this strange country, and everything is alien. In another 6 months, though, it will be slightly more familiar. Even now, you have your little routines. If you push yourself, those routines will expand, and you will start to build a place for yourself, a place that feels just ever so slightly more like home. In 2 years, you will really FEEL like you're home, and home will feel strange and alien and changed.

You should document that process, because when times get hard, you can look back and see how far you've come. You can see the progress you've made, and you can take heart from it. And in years to come, you'll realize just how strong you are, just how capable you are, and when future changes come, you will be able to more easily take them in stride. That is the one certainty of adult life, by the way, that all things change, even the things that you hope will never change.

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And, now, with my mom hat securely on my head, I want you to know these things, as well:

Dear Ms. Gruntle:

I'm worried about you. Here is my best motherly advice to help you weather these tough times:

1. Eat better. Sure, McDonald's is cheaper, and the greasy carbs give you a quick high, but ultimately, you will feel worse. Better than McDonald's is this meal from Wendy's, for under $4: Small side salad, baked potato, chili. If you are struggling with depression, the worst thing you can do is eat a lot of unhealthy, carb-heavy, toxic food. It will only make things worse.

2. Do one thing each day that scares you. I'm not talking about jumping out of airplanes, but I am talking about pushing yourself outside of your rut. Talk to someone in the classroom. Smile at a cashier. Ask a stranger a question. Invite someone to go to dinner with you. Go for a walk and discover a new place. Eat a new kind of food you've never tried before. Push yourself outside of your comfort zone. You are on your own in a new place, this is an ADVENTURE. Treat it as such.

3. Take lots of pictures. You'll want to remember the things you've seen, done, enjoyed, hated, explored.

4. Find at least one thing each day that gives you joy. Maybe it's a song. Maybe it's the sight of the sun streaming between the bare branches of the trees onto crystalline snow. Maybe it's a funny bumper sticker. Force yourself to find your bliss.

5. Find some words that inspire you, and put them on your mirror where you will be forced to read them every morning. Do it so that you can internalize them. I recommend Ralph Waldo Emerson. Perhaps you can start with this:

Don't be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better.

If you do these things, and you write, write, write those feelings out, I promise that you will find that the sky is significantly lighter in the next couple of months, and so is your daily mood.

Love,

Mom

I give you , with the promise of more to come if you keep working at it.

I am also giving you this for this post.

Stop overthinking this shit. It's just a blog, for god's sake.