Kern Carter's Blog, page 108

Three Ways to Write Responsibly and Let The Readers Decide

The power of writing to affect our thinking has long been understood by dictators and censors.

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To All The Lives I Won’t Be Able To Live

Photo by Vladislav Babienko on Unsplash

Two weeks ago, I read an article on Medium written by Kandice Confer on normalizing trauma in writing. In her article, she quotes Diane Nguyen, a character from the famous TV show BoJack Horseman, in reference to the topic. I learned two things from the article. Firstly, writing about one’s own trauma can have adverse effects on their mental health — secondly, BoJack Horseman.

To be honest, I’d never heard of the show before. I guess it was not that popular in India as other foreign shows, or it was popular, and I was not aware of it. Anyway, I quickly googled about the show and saw the trailer for season one. I was interested in the show. I like the colorful animations. I also like the concept and the storyline. This one is a little personal, I may have a secret crush on Diane, I don’t know?!

So, I began watching the show. It cracked me up big time and was thought-provoking at the same time. In the penultimate episode of Season one (spoiler alert) — despite a positive response to his memoir’s excerpts, BoJack insults Diane (his ghostwriter) and the work that she has done for his book. Later, he, Sarah-Lynn (a co-actor who plays his adopted daughter in his 90’s TV show Horsin Around), and Todd (a guy who came to his house for a party and never left) go on a drug-infused frenzy in an attempt to rewrite his memoir.

In this attempt, BoJack re-creates a multitude of iterations of what life could be if he had chosen a different path. Especially, he hallucinates a life with his former friend Charlotte, in which they have a daughter and live happily into old age.

In this particular scene, BoJack (the horse) asks Charlotte (the deer), “What are you thinking about”? To which Charlotte replies, “Oh, just how nice things could’ve been If you had chosen this life.” That sentence hit me hard. It got me thinking — “How nice/ugly things could’ve been if I had chosen a different life”? Do not get me wrong, I’m delighted with the path that I’ve chosen. But there will always be an ‘IF’ right.

Screenshot of the scene described aboveThe path I chose

I was born on 21st August 1996 to a middle-class family in Telangana, India. My father, who has a master’s degree in Mathematics and Computer Science, was a maths lecturer at a local college. My mother, who has a degree in Biological Sciences, left her job as a lab technician in a local clinic so that she could take care of my sister and me.

Growing up, I was always studious and pretty competitive. I always wanted to be the best in my class, an over-achiever in some sense. My parents cultivated a mechanism, which helped me in a way to appreciate science. They sowed the seeds of passion for science. They encouraged me to participate in science quizzes, Science and Math Olympiads, etc. As a result of their encouragement, I stood first from my school in an International Science Olympiad Competition in my fifth grade. They wanted me to pursue a career in science and engineering. For them, it seemed a straightforward decision, but for me, I wasn’t sure.

The life stories of Satish Dhawan, Abdul Kalam, Subrahmanyam Chandrasekhar, Roddam Narasimha, Marie Curie, Richard Feynman, Carl Sagan, and many more have and will continue to inspire me. I remember an episode of “Great Indians,” a TV program showcasing the lives of great men and women from India across various disciplines like music, literature, science, economics, math, etc., in which Subrahmanyam Chandrasekhar sat down for an interview with NDTV. The interviewer asked him, “What it feels like to receive a Nobel Prize for his discovery”? (The Chandrasekhar Limit). To which Subrahmanyam Chandrasekhar replied

I was an undergraduate, and I knew very little physics. But the physics which I used was something which I could have read. I was curious what would happen if that was applied to stars, and I found this limit. But I don’t see that it tells anything about my future work. I mean, I could have stopped at that point, and the discovery would be there. But if I am what I am, in the sense, I lived in science for 60 years and pursued science, that to me is far more important.

The important thing is, no matter what what other people say, you value certain things you do because of your personal reactions, not because somebody says it is good, no matter even if it involves getting a price of hundred thousand dollars.

This statement changed my perspective on pursuing science. No matter how hard or challenging it is, no matter what people think of it, all I wanted is to find solace in doing science. That’s where I have decided to be a scientist, to be a researcher, and Aerospace Engineering caught my fancy.

I guess I am doing well in this regard. I am currently pursuing my Master’s degree in Aerospace Engineering at the Indian Institute of Science, Bengaluru, India. Next in the line would be to do a Ph.D., probably abroad. After getting my Ph.D., I’ll probably do either a post-doc or apply for a job in academia or industry? I am not sure. But one thing I am certain of is, I want to dedicate my life to science.

The paths I didn’t1. Music

In my childhood, especially during the summers of my primary and middle school years, my mother always wanted me and my sister to learn Indian classical music under Komanduri Ramachari (a famous playback singer, music composer, music teacher from Telangana). Being a bathroom singer myself, I’ve always wanted to learn music, but I opted out every single time for whatever reason.

I guess I was in a completely different mental space back then and had somewhat different opinions on music and people who make music. Also, I don’t think I had the confidence and courage to go through with it. Seeing this, my mother would teach me “raga’s” and “keerthana’s” of the famous Telugu poets, the likes of Annamaya, Ramadasu, etc.

As years went by, I understood the impact of music on me, especially when you live far away from your family and friends. You remember your special bond and connection with them through pieces of music. To this day, I regret not taking up music. But somewhere deep down in me, I still want to learn different genres of music, learn to play various musical instruments (especially the Violin and the Sarangi), write and produce music someday.

2. Tennis

Even before I started playing tennis, I was a huge tennis and Federer fan. I guess the credit goes to both my father and my grandfather, who introduced me to the world of tennis. Whenever a majortournament happens like Wimbledon or whenever Federer’s playing, my father, my sister, and I will be glued to the television.

The match that inspired me to take up tennis was the 2008 Men’s Wimbledon Final. The very next week, I went to the local tennis club in my town and filled up the registration form. I was in 6th grade then, and I played tennis for the next two years straight. During this time, I was fortunate enough to participate in some local tennis tournaments. I also won a couple of tournaments as well. I was finally getting the hang of it and was taking training very seriously, and then came 9th grade.

As I started 9th grade, I started going to what is called IIT coaching. IIT is an abbreviation for the Indian Institute of Technology. They are the premier institutes for Science and Engineering in India. In a way, these institutes are Crème de la crème. Every year, a Joint Entrance Exam is conducted (JEE), and every teenager, even with an acute interest in STEM, wants to crack the exam and get into these institutes.

Generally, students take the exam at the end of their 12th grade. In my case, I had a maximum of 4 years till my turn comes in giving the exam. For some reason, my father thought it would be better if I started early and enrolled me in a coaching center. Because everyone knows that JEE is the most challenging exam on the planet alongside UPSC, and moreover, the timings for both my IIT and tennis training classes were similar, and guess what I dropped…drum roll…wait for it…MY TENNIS TRAINING CLASSES, and with it, I dropped my Technicolor daydream of becoming a tennis player as well.

3. Gaming

The year was 2010. The year I entered high school. My parents had just bought home a Personal Computer. These were the years when gaming videos were starting to pop up and trend on YouTube. Moreover, only a few content creators were doing it, unlike today, where every YouTuber has a gaming channel. I used to like gaming videos of PewDiePie, KSI, and few others. I always wanted to emulate them. So, I started gaming on my PC.

The very first game I played was FIFA 11. FIFA was so different back then, and the old versions of FIFA can never be topped. Playing it was almost spiritual to me, and I celebrated every goal as though I scored it physically. Besides FIFA, I used to play NBA 2K as well. These video games, in a way, helped me participate in team sports at school. I used to pull off the tricks and the skills I learned in the game whilst I was physically playing at school.

Another game that is very close to my heart is Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2. I still remember the day, it was during the lunch break at school, this friend of mine gives a very detailed analysis of the game he played last night. He was describing Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2. I was mind-blown. Going home that evening, I asked my parents to buy me the game. They disagreed to it initially but agreed later on the condition that I top the class in the mid-term exams. I gave my very best and I stood second in my class that year, and my parents bought me the game. The very first time I played the game, I got goosebumps and thought to myself, the HYPE is REAL. Since that day, I became a COD addict

Whether it was FIFA or COD, there was a time I seriously considered posting my montages on YouTube. I told my parents this, explaining what the games meant to me and earning money through YouTube. My parents sat me down and told me how disappointed they were with my decision. They wanted me to pursue Science and Engineering. They listed down the pros and cons of both fields and encouraged me to take up and make a difference in Science. After one or two more sit-downs, I was convinced and dropped gaming for good.

Summary

I want to summarize by quoting a part of the poem which is very dear to my heart, called “GO FOR IT,” written by one of my favorite poets Megha Rao. It goes like this

GO FOR IT!!

Go for it with your eyes closed,

even if you feel weak and exposed, just go for it.

Go for it, even if you’re flattened against the wall,

you’re breath speeding, you’re heart racing

your pulse screaming itself sore.

Send it, send that job application,

Take that impulsive vacation,

Mail that manuscript to that publishing house, and get rejected.

but do it anyway,

Because there really is no other way.

Go for it, even if you’re palms are sweating,

even if you’re legs are shaking,

Walk up on that stage and raid the spotlight,

Even if you’re throat feels constricted and tight.

What is the worst thing that can happen, huh?!

A broken heart?

A bruised ego?

Insecurities? Then let it happen.

It’s okay to lose,

but not to lose out because you’re terrified.

Terrified of what? Not being good enough?

Being laughed at?

It’s fine. We’ll get over it,

but, please GO FOR IT.

To All The Lives I Won’t Be Able To Live was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Accept Yourself

A self-worth poem

You’re more than willing to accept others

For the wonderful beings that they are

But when it comes to everything about you

You disregard yourself and your scars.

If you could only see your worth

You’re capable of shining bright too

You’re more than ready to live life

Instead of feeling so stuck and blue.

See yourself like you see the underdogs

The misfits and the misunderstood

You see so much greatness in all of them

By helping them in a way only you could.

Accept yourself for who you are

See yourself for all you could be

One day you’ll realize your potential

But for now, love yourself for me.

Accept Yourself was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Call For Submissions: Are You Supported On Your Creative Journey?

Writing and creating can be a lonely road. Even well-intentioned friends can impress their fears and doubts about your pursuit of a creative career. You know how passionate you are, but you also know how difficult it is to make money as a writer or creative so those doubts get louder and louder with each day that passes.

Support is crucial during these moments. Every creative pursuit is filled with indecision, uncertainty and fear that what you’re doing is pointless. Without the right support structures in place, both emotionally and functionally, maintaining your pursuits becomes difficult.

So let’s talk about support. Have you been supported on your writing journey? Do you feel emotionally uplifted or discouraged as you pursue your creative passions?

Same rules still apply:You can submit to this or ANY of our past writing prompts. Just scroll through our previous newsletters. They’ll be marked “Call for Submissions.”If you’re already a writer for CRY, go ahead and submit.If you’re not a writer for CRY but would like to submit to this or any other prompt, let us know and we’ll add you ASAP. Include your profile handle in your message or comment.Be as creative as you want in your submissions. As long as you stick to the topic, we’ll consider it.Just because you submit doesn’t mean we’ll post. If you haven’t heard back from us in three days, consider that a pass.

Please reach out if you have any questions at all. If you are new to Medium, here’s how you submit a draft to a publication.

Call For Submissions: Are You Supported On Your Creative Journey? was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

How trauma bonding ended up traumatizing me

Photo by Andreas Dress on Unsplash.

When I learned the premise of “self could not cure self” regarding my disease, I was able to really connect to it. After all, I had tried to cure myself for almost three decades.

As a recovering sick person, it’s elementary for me to falter. I always wanted the easy way out of everything in life. “Why does life have to be so hard?” I thought. “Why does this happen to me?”, “I think I’m a good person…”, and several (thousand) thoughts bathed in self-pity inundated the corners of my brain, my spirit, and my heart. For someone like me, my view of life in general was (and still is) warped.

I’m not trying to martyrize myself or anything like that. I’m fully aware that other people that don’t have the kind of disease I have may very well have similar outlooks on life. The main difference between people like that (we call them “normies”) and people like me might be how self-destructive our methods are to cope with such a pessimistic and miserable outlook.

Listen, if there had been any other way for me to recover, I would have found it by now. We are very resourceful and way too brilliant for our own sake. Someone who steals from their family to maintain their vice or attacks their friends when they’re trying to help them must obviously be very sick, right? Yeah, we totally are. I include myself because I work a “we program.” You may be wondering what that means by now.

In a “we program,” the premise is that since by ourselves we couldn’t recover, we had to rely on a higher power of our understanding to instill enough awareness in us so that we could have the honesty to recognize our problem, the open-mindedness to ponder different alternatives, and the willingness to do whatever it takes to heal.

Remember the Titanic? I mean, I obviously don’t remember it, but I know the history as well as anyone thanks to the 1997 movie with my favorite BFFs, Leo and Kate. Yes, I’m no spring chicken.

When a group of people endures the same traumatic event (or something very similar), a particular bond is created. This bond is what actually helps us get better in many ways. It could even bind us. It can become a solid bond. And since this group of people might not have anything in common other than their traumatic experience, they need to capitalize on the only thing they have in common to survive. I saw an example of this happening not too long ago.

From an outsiders perspective

I decided to upgrade my seat on the return trip home from a really painful family intervention a couple of weeks ago. I had already spent way too much money on questionable purchases this year, but this felt necessary at the moment. I felt I deserved it after the weekend I had gone through.

I was flying on Southwest Airlines, so I had to stand up in my boarding area to wait for my turn to board the plane. In front of me, there was a slender guy in what I’m assuming were either his late forties or early fifties with a coral linen shirt. I told him my letter and number combination, he told me his. I then explained my thought process for the boarding upgrade, but he rightly interrupted me to share his story.

His flight had been canceled on Spirit Airlines the night before, so they had given him a flight for the next day. At 6:00 a.m., they called him to let him know his noon flight was canceled as well. He then contacted Southwest Airlines and had to get an expensive ticket for the same flight I was on. I obviously could empathize with him, but it wasn’t my time to speak about it. His pain was fresher than mine.

A minute after this man and I start talking, a young woman appears. He recognizes her, excited. They start talking. I realize she was also on the same boat as him. (I could’ve totally used “plane” instead of “boat,” and it would have been glorious, but here we are.) They shared a common hurdle. They connected in a way I would never comprehend. They were sinking in the Titanic and I was just a spectator on the bay, watching. I felt so out of place, but I was entirely aware that it was warranted.

The phenomenon of trauma

Bessel van der Kolk explains this phenomenon in-depth in his book The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma:

After trauma, the world becomes sharply divided between those who know and those who don’t. People who have not shared the traumatic experience cannot be trusted, because they can’t understand it.

The reason why I felt out of place, but I was able to empathize with their interaction was because I’ve had my own experience sinking in the Titanic, and I’ve had several friends who’ve been in the same sinking ship I have. That common bond we share, rooted in seeming tragedy, saved our lives individually and collectively.

Trauma and recovery

When I started my recovery journey, my higher power was the people that had gone through the same misery I had, that had experienced rock bottom and knew of the gift of desperation that can only be received when the pain is so unbearable you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get better. As the days, months, and years passed, my definition of a higher power evolved to something not human in nature. For me, my higher power is the spirit of the universe; it is my intuition; it’s being given messages through others.

Since the fellowship is the epitome of unconditional love, it was easy for me to form new relationships with fellow recovering people that really understood me in ways no other people could. And if you find other things in common with some of them, the bond can be even stronger.

That’s how I ended up forming a bond with a group of women around my age that I considered my sisters in recovery. I leaned on them when I was hurting, and they did the same. And it was great for a while, but when the people in the group are not taking care of themselves regarding the common bond we all share, the foundation is shaky for those relationships to withstand hardships.

Trauma bonding and codependency

I am now grieving relationships that I treasured and nurtured for years because they couldn’t nurture me in a moment of great need. I had endured different trauma they hadn’t experienced. Therefore, it shifted from an “us” dynamic into a “me vs. them” one.

This situation helped me realize that those were codependent, and therefore toxic relationships. I would give them what I didn’t give myself, and I wouldn’t receive what I needed from them. Because ultimately, no one can provide what they don’t have.

When I was exhausted after each interaction, when some of them violated my boundaries, when I asked for help and got retaliation instead, I knew I needed help elsewhere.

The great silver lining

It’s funny to realize that what could have been a tragedy has, in fact, been the greatest gift of this phase of my life. Rediscovering dormant friendships, strengthening current relationships, and creating new ones made me realize I have a solid village at last.

I will never forget those in the life raft with me with tenderness, but I’m already moving on with my life as a survivor. After all, I’m not in the Titanic (so to speak) anymore.

How trauma bonding ended up traumatizing me was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Thinking With Bullets: An Alternate Use For Your Bujo

How incorporating personal journaling into your bujo can help structure and clarify your thoughts

Continue reading on CRY Magazine »

Haiku Whisper

I whisper diamonds

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I’d Like to Speak to the Manager

I feel like I’ve lost control of my life

Continue reading on CRY Magazine »

One Evensong of Hope to Help Us Heal

“I don’t know why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every part of my body is broken too.”

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My Heart Bleeds

Photo by 𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳 on Unsplash

My heart bleeds for the little girl inside who wants to impress her family.

My heart bleeds inside for the young woman wanting to feel like a woman.

My heart bleeds inside for the girl who is terrified of dating.

My heart bleeds inside for the little girl who is afraid to speak up for herself.

My heart bleeds inside for the woman who struggles to express her feelings.

My heart bleeds inside for the little girl begging to be seen.

My heart bleeds inside for the young woman afraid to disappoint her family.

My heart bleeds inside for the girl who underwent abuse.

My heart bleeds inside for the young girl who struggles with opening up.

My heart bleeds inside for the little girl who does not feel safe.

My heart bleeds inside for the little girl who struggles to deal with bullies.

My heart bleeds inside for the little girl who struggles to make friends.

My heart bleeds inside for the young adult who feels lost.

My heart bleeds for the soul that cries out surrounded by the many flames.

My heart bleeds, and it bleeds, and it bleeds.

My Heart Bleeds was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.