Car Trouble, Parasitic Draw & Sitting with Sadness
When I got into my car last Saturday night after five hours of Onam Celebrations, it wouldn't start. I was more than an hour away from home, and AAA wasn't coming to bail me out. So, big brother to the rescue as usual. Five and a half hours later, I was finally home with a special type of exhaustion as I went to bed. Sunday was a wash. I could not muster the will to do any of the tasks I had planned to do. It's strange how I know I am allowed rest that I don't always have to be productive, and yet, when I cannot will myself into productivity, it still feels like a failure, not a decolonial triumph. Sigh. But in the end, I relented. My body said, "Not today!" So, I gave in to the unproductivity. What makes this all the more comical is that on Friday, I joked that one day, I would host an event with my friend Priyanka called "Somberi Sundays." "Somberi" or சோம்பேறி in Tamil means lazy. This was a playful dig at Tamil fathers who, in their displeasure with idle children, would bestow the title of "somberi." I said that in this event, we will lead Tamil people in the practice of infinite nothingness and being completely useless for any type of task or labor. Sunday turned out to be the soft launch. One day had arrived, and I had a Somberi Sunday for myself. It was exactly what I needed.
I took my car in for service this week, and when my husband explained the issue to me, he said that something was creating a "parasitic draw" on the battery. A parasitic draw is when an electrical component of a vehicle continues to drain the battery while the car is turned off and parked. Have you ever learned a term that so concisely explains something you are experiencing on multiple levels? I couldn't stop thinking about "parasitic draw" and how applicable that term has been for me metaphorically and personally.
Later that day, I met with my Spiritual Director for the first time since we took the summer off. I gave my update and eventually shared an incident weighing heavy on my spirit. Even with some distance from it, I was still righteously pissed off at the injustice I felt. I recounted what happened with tremors of irritation fresh in my body. She listened and asked what I was feeling other than anger. I knew, but I didn't want to say it. She gently said that she has walked with me through instances that have brought up similar feelings in me and that she knows I am comfortable with anger but that I needed to sit with sadness. I broke while she invited the tears fall. I said that I didn't know what to do with it. She said that I didn't have to do anything with it. I just had to allow myself to feel it. We paused so I could spend time in silence with Spirit tending to my sadness. I closed my eyes and pictured myself curled in a ball on the grass beneath a big tree with low-hanging branches providing cover as the Spirit of God hovered over me. I stay there, in my sadness, and I hear the gentle whisper, "You don't have to fix this. You can let go."
He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters He restores my soul. Psalm 23:2-3
My tendency to self-flagellate- a parasitic draw. While I believe this is a lesson I will need to return to many times more, I end this week knowing I am deeply loved by my family and community, that I am worthy of the love and care I show to others, and that I am not responsible for repairing something I did not destroy.
With Tenderness,
Rebekah, aka Peri Akka of Somberi Sunday
