Choices? Always!
There is this famous quote by Severus Snape in the Harry
Potter books. Snape claims to love Lilly even after she had died and it had
been 14 years. The headmaster asks him, “After all this time?” Snape simply
replies, “Always.”
This quote has stayed with me more than any other. There are
some emotions which cling to your heart and they almost never change. Love is
the strongest of them. Yes. Once you love someone, it doesn’t change. You may
try to hide or modify, but it is difficult. Same is the case with compassion
and me. I feel a lot of things for and about people. However, once I feel
compassionate towards them, there is nothing else. The compassion stays
stronger than any other emotion in my heart.
How did I get to know this? The answer is education.
If you are an engineer, you learn about making something or
repairing something. It is mainly related to some machine in general. If
you are a lawyer, you learn about laws and how to practice them in the society.
If you are a veterinary doctor, you learn about treating animals. If you are a
psychologist, you learn about humans, especially human emotions and their
tangled nature. In the process, the psychologist becomes aware of one’s own
emotions. At the end of the day, the psychologist is also a tangled mass of
emotions. This is how I know about my emotional world.
I have always struggled when it comes to expression of these
emotions in a socially acceptable way, particularly when they are strong. Today I decided against hiding one of my experience in the Deo Tibba Base Camp Trek. I
want to note down the panic attack I had and I want to share it.
We were taken to climb down with the help of a rope from a
rock (height: approximately 20 feet). It’s called rappelling. When I saw the
demonstration, I knew that I am not going first or in between but at last. I knew
something was amiss. Today, I know that something was my fearless courage.
I did what I do best when I am afraid. I found out a
spot and sat alone. I hid my fear under the wall of my consciousness. I interacted
with people. Behind that wall though, a decision was being taken. There was a
battle going on. A battle of creating a scene if something went wrong and
facing the fear despite everything. I knew I didn’t have anything that would
help me be perpendicular to a stone without an evident support. Trusting people
is one thing, but trusting an instrument in hands of a person is another. It was
a war. I wanted to do it and I didn’t. I took too much of me and of course the
deep breathing technique to simply go up there and try something that I had
feared all my life.
It’s weird. I climb trees, hills. It’s not the height that
makes me tremble, it’s the act of climbing down. The act of crossing that distance
between two known safe places that sends the chills through my spine. It’s been
like that since I was saved as a child in an accident. I still have the mark of
that injury on my right leg. The crossing is tough. I panic. I have been
fighting this. One of my friend who has walked a lot with me knows about his fear.
I used to panic when I would hear a loud sound on roads, especially honking. It brings
back that horn of the car. I have surpassed it though. I am still afraid of crossing
the roads, especially crossroads. There are too many directions to notice and
remember and I just have two eyes. My auditory sense helps a lot. I do cross
the roads every day. Living in a metro city like Mumbai and traveling being an
inevitable part of my work I have to do it. Despite this, I will accept that
when I don’t have to cross a road, I feel a sense of relief. So, crossing is
quite a challenge for me.
This all went on behind the walls of my consciousness while I
sat upright against a tree. The tree was immensely soothing. I wish I could
have taken it with me to the actual rappelling that I did. No. One has to
face one’s fears alone. I have learnt that one. Absolutely no one can help you
overcome your fear. It’s your thing. And yes, it takes time and sometimes a lot
of time and patience as well. The thing that convinced me to do it was my
mantra. “Yes, I am afraid of crossing the roads. Does that mean I would never
cross one? Would it be rational to put up another boundary on my own
explorations? Would this not hinder the growth of my soul?” Other than the
mantra, there was one more thing that convinced me: My students. I taught them
and pushed them to grow. I asked them to give a presentation looking at me so that
they would forget their fear. They did it. They put all their trust in me, went
on the stage, spoke whatever they could and came down to sit beside me holding
my hand. All I needed to do was trust in me and forget what other people
thought, perceived, interpreted and remembered. The fear was mine. Mine to
behold and mine to let go.
I ensured that I was last. I went up with the instrument. I kept
on with my deep breathing. When I started with the rope and became almost
perpendicular, I knew that that was all. I have vivid memories of what I felt. I
clutched the rope too tight. I tried to look at the instructor. I could not
relate. I was a mess. I had prepared myself for going up and coming down. Who
knew that I had to concentrate on the technique, too. I had to keep my feet
steady. My feet were worse than a jelly. They were not paralyzed but they were
not in any mood to listen. That’s when I panicked. I had lost my illusion of control.
I tried to get my illusion back. It was necessary to control my body and
emotions and concentrate on the technique. I tried and my jelly feet kept slipping. I had nothing
to fight and everything to fight. I had nowhere to run and my mind wanted to
run away as far as it can. So, my whole being decided that let’s freeze. That’s
when it happened. My dear grandfather’s memory came flashing in front of my
eyes. I froze completely. I wanted to be there. I wanted to be with him. I couldn’t.
I still don’t understand why my mind chose that particular memory. My most
rational and probable guess is similarity. I had frozen when he passed away. This
was similar. This is what happened inside my head. It’s real. It’s real for me.
I wanted to be held and I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to cry and yell and
I wanted to be as quiet as if I was dead. I wanted to run and I wanted to curl up into a ball
and vanish without even a bit of a movement.
Now, I will tell what people told what I did and how I reacted
to them. I have a very foggy memory of that. I think I couldn’t process the
external cues as I was overstimulated with the internal ones. I cried out loud
and people tried to gather around me telling me to calm down, asking me for
water, etc. I didn’t let them help me. I sat down and someone tried to tell me
to breathe and let the air in. I don’t remember what I did. After some time
though when I had regained some of my sense, I heard a voice telling me to open
my body. I realized I was holding myself with knees clutched to my chest. I understood
what this meant. Less oxygen going to my brain and more time needed for processing
that the perceived threat was gone. I opened my legs with difficulty. This I remember
because holding myself was a great comfort. I knew nothing could penetrate. Nonetheless,
I knew I had to let my rational being take over. I remember crying. I remember
jelly feet. I remember many people holding their hand out to me. My friend told
me I refused help. She told me I didn’t listen to people. I didn’t trust. In hindsight,
maybe I was trying to regain my own trust on myself and my jelly feet. The way I
felt when my feet just refused my brain’s order was not very reassuring. Maybe
she was right after all, I didn’t trust anyone at that point of time. Maybe, I just
didn’t know what I was doing and was holding onto my freezing response. I am
still searching what went on there, inside and outside.
Most of this is a very foggy memory enhanced by what people
told me. I am taking guesses as well. I guess I would have sat there and cried if no
one else was there. I do remember walking down with comparative control over my
feet. Everyone encouraged me and reassured me. I was grateful but confused. I remember
discussing politics. That was some amazing running away from the situation. I wanted
to have a bath. My friend persuaded me to eat. I think that day I ate out of
guilt. It’s like when my students do their work properly because they haven’t
listened to me earlier and made me unhappy and upset. Yes, I ate because I had
refused my friend’s help when I should have taken it or at least it was the socially
acceptable thing to do. I compensated not being a socially appropriate person through a socially appropriate act. Yes. That was the right thing to do. Listen to
the community at least alternatively. I am glad that I ate and I am glad that I
had a bath. Once I was able to eat, I knew I was in control again. It’s the
best sign. If you are able to do something socially appropriate, then your
brain has come back to normal state of affairs.
In the whole process, I expressed all the three threat responses
a person can. I decided to fight. That was a conscious decision. I did for a
few seconds at least. Then, my body decided to freeze. It was an involuntary
reaction. I shut down. Then, I ran away not physically but mentally. I was
there. I wasn’t there.
Today, when I relive this I shudder and I laugh. I know how
afraid I was. I know how comical I must have looked. I am glad that I can
recollect and write down the incidence. My heart raced as I wrote and I felt a
mixture of shame, pride and amusement.
I end this with a quote again from the Harry Potter books. The
headmaster talks about how it’s our choices and not our abilities that make us what
we are. As my other blog posts would show, I too am a strong believer of the choice
theory. I chose to face my fear of climbing down. I chose to reveal than
conceal. I chose to write. I chose to be honest. I chose to laugh at my own
situation. I don’t know about anyone else but Dumbledore would be proud.
