Graduate Student, she/her, a mental health advocate, loves learning, will always be found with her nose in a book, working on holding space for all our quirks.
I begin this by acknowledging that all of us may share a different relationship with yoga or any form of exercise. Our bodies may allow for a certain range of movement, and we are allowed to respect, offer kindness to our bodies, in all their capacities. I am acutely aware
For those of us who watched movies set in schools and colleges, we learnt of groups and the cliches that come with them, early on. A group sometimes has a shared identity. It could be their interest in sports, environment, policy, or any niche that presents itself. I think about
“This does not fit!” I gasp in horror at how clothes that perfectly fit a few months, seem to have shrunk. ‘Shrunk’, I wrap my arms over my body and wonder. I found myself reluctantly trying on a larger one and my face contorted with worry. I wonder how I
Muffled words echo through them. I try to listen, and politely ask them to repeat themselves a little louder. A few years ago, if you had told me I would have to listen to people wearing masks throughout the day, I would have laughed. I recall working with mice at
Hostel rooms, dorms, paying guest accommodations, elicit an odd sense of nostalgia. Having walked into, stayed with, spent months in and been invited to all of these places, I am struck at how each room or flat I walk into is nothing like another. The room with posters, walls with
White sheet of paper, I sit down and look at it. I begin to think about how so much of life is constructed and sometimes, shaped out by my identity. Parts of my identity, I had the privilege to construct, to choose and parts were lent to me. I draw
People in rectangles. A newlywed couple, baby wraps, first days at school, defending a Ph.D. thesis, cooking a meal for the first time, vehicle’s birthday, a cat snuggled up, aging parents in the glow of their anniversary cake, celebrating oneself, a day off, an after-therapy selfie, the view
“I don’t understand why.” I find this line running through my head. As I type this, I wonder if you have had thoughts on similar lines before. You find yourself wondering “Why would they do/believe in that? Why do they choose to be in a certain way?”, I
Wildly moving my limbs, I try to follow a dance workout routine. I allow myself to admit that I will never be someone who dances at a party nor will I receive compliments for how amazingly beautiful that routine was. I chuckle, as I type this. Do you find yourself
Blank space, I am trying to find the right words. The ‘right words’, I wonder. I listen to someone describe a rough day. I pause, I want to let them know they’ll get through this and it will be okay. How do I do this? I think about how
The voices are loud. Whose voices? My own. I go over my mistakes, I try to hold my stance. I can hear a friend defending their position. We're at an impasse, disagreement of sorts. And so it continues, sentences volleyed back and forth. Some sentences are accusatory, some
D’s daughter, H came home unusually quiet. H was out cycling with her friends, D noticed H fidgeting with her toys. D began to play with H, and H happily chose to engage. D chose to talk to H over dinner, a time where H is receptive to conversation.