Two years ago, I ended my marriage to my childhood sweetheart, my husband of 17 years, and the father of my son. This wasn’t a decision I took lightly, nor was it one that I made overnight. In hindsight, there were so many factors at play, some of which started even before we got married. But this essay isn’t about why my marriage failed, rather, how it sparked something greater within me. It’s about struggling to face my demons, learning how to feel again, healing, and evolving. It’s about the hard-won truths I’ve gained along the way, that have shaped who I am and why I exist in this world. It’s about my journey of unblinding.
But more than that, it’s about you. Because, in truth, we are all more connected than we know.
As children, we are uninhibited, primal and raw, but also joyous and full of wonder. As we grow up, more often than not, our natural inclination to be curious gets crushed, as the twinkle in our eyes gets tarnished. The pressure to conform - first from family, then society at large - is overwhelming. We forget who we are, trying so hard to be someone else instead, someone more acceptable to others.
As a child, I have memories of dancing to my own tune (quite literally), sashaying around the house to The Nutcracker’s Russian Dance, getting lost in fictional worlds of my own creation, experimenting with my vocal range in the shower, and playing games like “The Floor is Lava” decades before the concept fueled its own reality show. I remember wearing wildly colorful and mismatched socks to school, much to the chagrin of my sophisticated mother, as a form of creative resistance, and cheating my way to the top of the book report list in third grade (how dare my literary prowess be surpassed by another?!). But I can also remember spending weekends watching my mother being taken hostage by her undiagnosed depression, crying endlessly while my father, the banker, attempted to be her therapist; watching my body grow to (what I thought were) monstrous proportions as a Brown girl experiencing puberty in my predominantly White world; and feeling safer being silent instead of singing. As I shot up to become the tallest girl in class, another more vulnerable part of me started shrinking. Over time, my confidence floundered, while the walls around my heart rose to protect me. It was such a noticeable difference that, in fourth grade, even my nine-year-old classmates commented on how much I’d changed.
In hindsight, I can only say, I was lucky to have experienced these early disturbances to my inner world. In later years, when I began to unravel, these impressionable years became a starting point from which I could consciously excavate my wounds for further reflection. At different points in our lives, we all face traumas and challenges that force us to our knees, expand our understanding and endurance, and bring us back to ourselves. I call this process “unblinding” because, it is only when our world is turned upside down, that we have no choice but to accept things as they are and face the dissonance within, allowing us to lift the veil over our eyes and realize just how blind we’ve been.
When I fell in love as a teenager and discovered the object of my affection felt the same way I did, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. And, in some ways, I was. But, at the time, I didn’t realize I was unconsciously bypassing a daunting rite of passage: figuring out who I was, independent of others. Instead, I chose the more attractive option of becoming part of someone else’s story and molding myself into the person he wished me to be. Not only was I recklessly unprepared for a mature relationship, I wasn’t even mature enough to know that. I sacrificed the risk of being myself (whoever that was), for the safety of being someone else, someone who deserved to be loved.
Though I was born beautiful and whole, I built a life around the belief that I was broken. So many of us are shackled by deep-rooted beliefs which, when examined under the light of day, are proven to have stemmed from our early attempts at making sense of the world. As adults, it is essential that we become radically honest with ourselves about what we believe, digging deeply into our subconscious to illuminate, without shame, even our most repressed thoughts. In this process of unraveling from the inside out, we can start to identify those parts of ourselves that we love and those that need more love. We can embody a more objective, intentional, and compassionate approach towards understanding ourselves, and then connect the dots between what we long for, what we believe, what we say and do, and who we truly are.
It has taken me four decades to establish a sense of autonomy and recognize my worth. But I could never have achieved this in a vacuum. I had a supportive network of family and friends, a firm resolve to be a better mother, an earnest seeker’s curiosity and desire to get to the root of all things, and, perhaps most crucially, an acceptance of my limited capacity to endure pain, the pain of feeling so fractured, playing a role that wasn’t even mine.
I believe this journey - long, arduous, and exhilarating as it has been, and continues to be - was meant to unfold in the way it did. I do not blame anyone else for “ruining” my life - not my parents, who I deeply love and admire, nor my ex-husband, who I still greatly respect. This journey of unraveling was my gift. With every step I’ve taken towards rebuilding, I feel stronger. Each epiphany, each solved riddle, has been like the delicious unwrapping of a birthday present. The more I learn, the more expansive I feel, closer to God and more connected to others.
By reflecting deeply on our inner worlds, allowing ourselves to feel a vast spectrum of emotions, savoring sensation, and living in gratitude, we can actually enjoy rediscovering who we are and why we exist. I believe our path in this world, simply put, is to forget our true nature, just so we can experience the ecstasy of re-awakening to it. I believe our purpose is to love, connect, and comprehend oneness. It’s important to note, though, that connecting to others is impossible without first re-connecting to ourselves.
I am no spiritual guru or savvy sage with superior intellect. I am simply someone who loves to write, who has witnessed incredible love and generosity of spirit, as well as deep loss and terrifying turmoil. Now, as I continue to carve out my path, I’d like to share what I’m learning with others. I used to think I’d be considered arrogant for assuming I had any wisdom at all that was worthy of sharing. I realize now, it doesn’t matter how other people see me, so long as my biggest supporter and fiercest fan is the person I see in the mirror every day. According to Maria Popova, one of my favorite wordsmiths, “So often, in advising others, we are advising ourselves — the most innocent, vulnerable, and visionary parts of us, those parts from which the spontaneity and daring central to creative work spring.” The paradox is, in selflessly sharing my wisdom with you, I am quite selfishly trying to fuel my own spiritual and creative growth.
If you’ve read this far, then I hope you’ll join me on this journey. I’m excited (and honestly, a little nervous) to create a virtual safe space where it’s okay to unravel, where we can create a community and exchange ideas. In doing so, perhaps we can help unblind each other to our vitality and purpose, our shared humanity, and the belief that experiencing life, in all its many shades and shine, truly is a gift.
To live is to be loved, every step of the way, just as we are.
Nida, I absolutely loved this read. Your beauty, wisdom, pain and growth are all so evident in your words - and I know so, so many could benefit from what you have to share. Please never stop writing. I genuinely cannot wait to receive your essays in my inbox every week! Congratulations on this powerful first piece. 💛💛💛