Happiness can exist only in acceptance of what is

For the last three weeks I’ve felt like a fish out of water trying to adapt back to a culture that I never really felt comfortable in to begin with. I sat in India daydreaming about what Canada had to offer that wasn’t available and being pregnant that mostly consisted of food and since returning I’ve eaten like a ravenous monster. In doing so I’ve had a reaction, doctors are shaking their heads in confusion and writing it off as one of those ‘pregnancy things” but I (along with some beautiful insights from guides, mentors and healers) have figured out that my body and my baby have just gotten overwhelmed with the bombardment. I’ve gone to town on processed foods and sweets, a luxury that doesn’t exist in my humble life in India and now I am paying the price. So I’m happy to announce wonderful progress has been made with the pain I was dealing with in last week’s blog but now I search for answers on why this rather annoying rash has manifested.

Food is an obvious variant between the two cultures and I have eaten epic amounts of what I once would have considered “comfort” foods. I can’t help but notice the irony as I suffer through this intolerable itch. I realize how disillusioned I had been with what the ‘comforts’ of the west had to offer me. I’m used to eating simple, local foods, which means most of our meals in India consist of one or two vegetarian dishes with chapatti (flat bread).  My mind in India was growing increasing bored with daily cuisine and I longed for veggie burgers, chips and dip and chocolate bars that were larger than the Halloween size found throughout our bazaars. So after bingeing and not finding comfort I’m back to preparing the simple foods I have grown accustomed to in India, minus the bread which I cannot seem to master on an electric stove!

Another area I was excited to find solace in was blending into the crowd. I’ve gotten used to people staring at me abroad, I understand I’m a foreigner, which in itself offers intrigue but add traditional Indian dress and the markings of a Hindu bride and it’s an open invitation for gawkers. In my daydream about Canada I was looking forward to the multicultural faces roaming the streets and blending in quite easily. This hasn’t been the case, because I continue to wear the markings of an Indian wife; sindoor in my parted hairline and a bindi I’m still getting curious looks from passerby’s. 

Holistically an itchy rash often occurs because there is something we are “itching to do” and in my case I think it’s time for me to accept that I am foreign not only in India but even in my birth country. The quicker I accept, appreciate and celebrate that I will always be different, the sooner this rash may disappear…or maybe I just need to change my laundry detergent.

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