The Shape Sorter

We spent seventeen days in Denmark for Christmas and New Year's. Martin and I could not keep from proclaiming how amazingly clean it was there. And how organized! And how not smelly! In Copenhagen we declared the city and its buildings as the epitome of beauty. Which brought us to an important question: How crazy are we to be living in India instead?!

Now that I am back in Mumbai, with the sun rapidly defrosting memories of a snowy Denmark, I am forced to readjust to India. When we exited the airport, I felt eyes all over my body: Oh yea, they stare at me here. When I breathed in the air outside: Oh yea, the air is moist and smells of sulfur. When we were picked up by Mohammed: Oh, right, we have a driver and the roads are terrible. The next morning when Isabel was being cared for as Martin and I slept until 12:30 pm: Oh yea, we have a nanny. (A nanny who is a godsend.)

I am also inclined, due to my introspective nature, to figure out exactly what I feel about this place, what I feel about my life, what I feel about what I am doing, where I am going, and everything in relation to those thoughts and feelings, now that I am back in Mumbai.

Sifting through and analyzing "my feelings" is a bit like Isabel's shape sorter toy. It's like I've got a box with shapes cut out into the top. That would be my brain. And the challenge is dropping the correct shape, or feeling, into the correct slot. To do so, I need to pick each one up, feel it with my fingers, decide what to call it, and, once satisfied with my analysis, drop it into the appropriate hole until my emotions fall into place and begin to make sense. That might sound crazy to you or like a waste of time. I don't think my husband, for example, ever spends much time sorting and categorizing his emotions. Instead he sorts and categorizes material objects. But we are opposites. He needs a system to his outer life; I need a system to my inner life.

In keeping with one of my New Year's resolutions, there is a surplus feeling to be discarded as I try to get my head on straight again. He's called Negativity. There is really no place for Negativity in my brain, but like a virus he is quick to infest and infect. When you live in a foreign country, away from a support system of friends and family, when you stay at home with a kid instead of work, it is so easy, too easy, to become depressed and full of negative thoughts.

It picks at you until you bleed: "Maybe you are wasting your time. Maybe you should look for a job, even if it's on a peanuts local salary, because maybe you just aren't good enough to be a full-time, around the clock, wife and mother. But you probably have been out of work too long to be able to get a job!" Negative thoughts do nothing except cause dizziness and frustration. When I find them in my pile of triangles, circles, squares, and stars, Negativity is the big black block which needs to be tossed. Pronto.

In my assortment of emotions, there is Negativity's arch nemesis, a bright and shining star called Positivity. This feeling promotes productivity, creativity, and happiness. If I hold her in my hand right now- I admit she looks a little tarnished- what does she say?

She whispers that my life full of excitement and adventure.
She says I have a daughter whose blue eyes twinkle when she smiles and laughs and who loves me most of all.
She tells me I have a husband who is fun and silly, yet so stable and responsible.
She reminds me of my health.
She encourages me to try new things, explore new places, meet new friends.

She hops into her star shaped spot on my brain with one last hint: I am in charge of my life, more than I think I am on a daily basis. Make the most of it!