So, You're Not a Superhero

So you’re not a superhero. You get frustrated when you mix up verb tenses. You can’t cross the street without saying a small prayer. You’re not conventionally attractive, by American or Bengali standards. You stall in your writing – and your reading and your half-made plans. You take off your kameez one shoulder at a time, hopping on one foot as you tug on the sweaty fabric. You jump at the tiniest tik tiki movement on the wall across from you. You burst out of your new shoes. None of this is possible without you.

I moved to Dhaka a little over 2 weeks ago with the intention to write. I was here 2 years ago on a research project about perceptions of mental health and mental illness, but felt like all of the stories I was collecting deserved a better home than just an academic paper that would be read by only a few people. It was then that the idea for my novel manifested – and now I finally get to pursue it.

I also moved here as a challenge. I needed to shake myself out of my skin, my NYC hustle, and the perfectionism that keeps me from doing the work that I really want to do. It’s an amazing opportunity, but I’m also struggling with it. In my head, I wanted to pick up where I left off in my Bangla study, meet with new friends, and build a community around things that I care about – particularly social justice work. But all of these things take time.

The greatest work is to adjust my expectations as a person with a Western sense of timeline and a tendency towards impatience. It’s hard for me – when sitting down to verb charts or a blank page – to remember that learning isn’t often linear. It’s equally hard to admit feeling lonely and frustrated. I feel sometimes that I have to front like I’m superhuman and don’t have off days. It feels very much like my traveling has come to an end, and I have to learn to be settled.

Recently I’ve turned to this well-worn advice for writers: Revel in the questions. Be less concerned with the answers. Answers are, after all, a matter of growth rather than destination. And even though the results are TBA, I’m cultivating some gratitude for these hard moments as a way to connect more deeply with myself and with others.

Have you ever hit this point? Had these kinds of experiences adjusting to a new lifestyle? I’d love to hear from you – Tweet me @thecowation.

The Relieving Rejection

Saturated image of South Asian woman's back, in bikini, as she jumps into oncoming ocean waves.

I wish sometimes that it were a coffee shop revelation – the camera pans away from me as I enter my favorite spot (probably a bookstore café, probably crowded but with a conveniently placed open table waiting for me), where I sit down and start leafing through a bunch of books or magazines. There’s a close up of me looking longingly at those other lives, mostly ones that I wouldn’t want to have but that still inspire some sort of wanderlust. Then there’s a cut scene, and when we come back I’ve run out of the café, dramatically calling my workplace to say “I quit!” right there on the street and booking the next flight to Dhaka.

My brain’s a little melodramatic.

Whether it turns into a television drama or not, I’m leaving NYC at the end of April. I’m taking the year off to move first to Seattle, then to visit Europe, and finally to spend the better half of this year in Bangladesh - where I’ve been trying to go back to for the past two years but haven’t yet succeeded!

My decision started as a little voice nagging at me, whispering “go.” I could not ignore it. But I also couldn’t make the decision myself. I had applied to several grants – ones that would help the move to Bangladesh, ones that would root me in NYC – and held my breath. I waited on emails for weeks and months, and one by one they trickled in. We really appreciated your application… We’re sorry we cannot offer… We look forward to your... Everyone’s gotten at least one of these in their life. For almost all of last year, as I went through waves of un- and underemployment, they made me question my worth and the quality of my work just as much as the cover letters that never seemed to elicit any reply.

I made it through last year, but it was an agonizing experience (stick around for when I tell you about Roachpocalypse). Even when I felt like I was fully committing to the work I wanted to be doing – training to be a doula, organizing zine events, working with domestic violence survivors – money was still a hovering issue. Or rather, the insecurity that I wasn’t “making it in NY” was the issue. If I wasn’t putting in all my time to either monetary work or meaningful work, then what was I doing? I didn’t let myself relax for a second; I made to-do list after to-do list. I loved New York and I resented it.

Then I received an email in January. Oddly, this was at the point when I was most stable – I was paying all my bills with a job at a clinic I enjoyed working at – but my plans were set. The form letter was familiar, but my reaction had changed. It relieved and released me in a way that felt necessary.

My life since quitting my job and working freelance again as I prepare for my trip has not been TV-worthy. Mostly its involved sending a lot of emails from my couch and attending fabulous but unexciting meetings. But there’s also an ever-present excitement underneath that I will really and truly be doing something different with this year. People (my sister especially) have been telling me not to make everything a goal, so I am resisting the urge to draw up an image of the person I want to be this time next year. I am, however, getting an excellent crash course in trusting in other people. More soon!

One of the first things I’m doing this year is crowdfunding to go on a somatics retreat called Oppression in the Soma – it uses a set of body-based healing practices to restore and make you aware of how you move through the world. If you have a few dollars to support, I’d be grateful if you visited my Razoo page. Sending lots of love and gratitude.

I've also gotten something new published over at The Rumpus! It's a short story called Traditional Healing, and you should check it out.

Moving and Moved

I moved!

It's taken me about a week to feel semi-settled, but I am in love with my new space -- I never thought I'd say it, but living alone is actually better for me at this point in my life. Though I don't have everything figured out in terms of my next steps, having a stable living situation is a luxury I can no longer take for granted.

In the interim between jobs, I've been going on a lot of other adventures. Sometimes it's tough to feel productive or energized when searching for the next thing - I've been waking up late and cooking elaborate meals at the end of particularly demotivating days. I've flitted from going away party to job search session and book club to coffee date, all the while wondering about whether - underneath it all - I define myself based solely off the work that I do. There's something to be said about financial security, but beyond that there is a lot of anxiety about not having something 'to do.'

But the projects that have been helping me lift out of this state are all labors of love, and I am grateful to have time to work on them. This week, it has been planning to bring As[I]Am out of hibernation and applying for travel grants. In two weeks, it will be - most excitingly - officiating my best friend's marriage! (Stay tuned for details on that!). So while the downtime has carried with it a mix of feelings, I am happy to say that riding the tide in has not felt completely like drowning.

See you when I reach the shore - this time on the West Coast!

Moving Day!

Today was my moving day, and tomorrow I am flying out to Seattle, so posting is on hold until Friday! Peace out, NYC!