The Rising Son

Depression. Anxiety. Panic attack. Mental health. Indeed it's a quagmire of a subject within our South Asian community. It's supportive these superstar athletes share their experiences and help others confronting mental health challenges. Can't run away from your mind, no matter how hard one tries. The following is the most descriptive reflection on a couple of episodes I endured. Kevin Love's story published in The Players' Tribune served as a catalyst for me to reflect on the experiences and to share them.

Having had experienced a panic attack for the first time in early 2016 during a kid's birthday party my thoughts about mental health would be changed forever. That first panic attack is etched into my memory. It was just as the magic show was beginning. The clown had the kids completely absorbed into the act. Witnessing those kids completely enjoying a simple magic show and it evoking such laughter, thrills, and joy delivered me into emotional quicksand. "Holy shit" that's what I said and I bounced to an outside area behind the dining hall where it was isolated. I haven't ever truly explored what could have caused that episode. Maybe I just freaked out after needing a laugh and unable to locate one. Thereafter I was fraught with fear about two things, (1) not knowing the cause and (2) when and where would the next one strike?

It took a little more than a year before the next panic attack and I was overseas returning from a business trip. I had just dropped off my baggage and was walking to security. While in the middle of the cavernous airport concourse the air in my lungs was replaced with terrorizing emptiness. The legs were frozen yet we're compelled to move by the need to isolate myself and avoid attracting unnecessary attention. After all I was a brown skinned dude in an airport of a major European city. Definitely didn't want to get gunned down because I was freaking out or not being able to speak. I escaped to a nearby restroom and locked the door. I couldn't control my breathing and felt as if I was going to suffocate.

I called my wife hoping her voice would settle me down. She answered and I couldn't speak. I was able to utter the words "I'll call you later". I realized I may only cause her to worry incessantly while I'm far away. I quick dialed my best friend. It was about 5-6am his time and he picked up said "hey, hello" a few times. I couldn't speak and then mustered the courage to ask him for help. I recall telling him in between heavy breaths "I don't know why I'm freaking out but I'm freaking out. By this point I was balling. The tears gushed out and for the first time after this attack began I felt some relief. I was able to calm down with my buddy on the end of the phone patiently being present. It felt like an awful long time but it was only a few minutes from the onset of the debilitating sensation of fright to when I wiped away the last of the tears.

Minds are fragile. The thoughts and feelings we expose our mind to chart the course of the mind's journey. It's hard for me to say what caused the anxiety behind the panic attacks. I haven't done nearly enough self reflection to improve my own mental health. This is the first time I am bold enough to share these experiences in such an open way. There's some trepidation about judgement. But I know I have my wife and friends' unconditional love. I communicate more openly with my wife about stresses which may ultimately accumulate and cause me harm. Perhaps that will address any underlying issues. Who knows? Communication can't hurt though.

There are major issues involving mental health affecting people these days. Perhaps sharing the experiences is a way to embrace those feeling disillusioned about their mental "breakdowns." Making an effort to contribute to removing the stigma associated with having conversations about mental health may help me confront my own mind's health.

A week away with family and friends in the posh surroundings of an all inclusive 5 star resort. This is my past week. So how could I possibly so soon after returning have a single complaint let alone a bucket for the tears falling from my face?

The withdrawal is real. Quality time with individuals who are authentically dear to me is no more. Memories captured in snapshots and Snapchats. The melancholic drag upon waking up is hard to overcome. Resuming the mundane routine of generating revenue and quelling top brass mandates for continued bottom-line growth is hardly inspiring. Missing my brothers and their families and the genuine quality time spent together has me in a nether land devoid of passion.

Scared Healthy.

The moment I couldn’t catch my breath signaled something may be wrong. Of course it was during the course of a normal day and I dismissed any concern. I put it off to focus on the work which I foolishly have allowed to control me. In retrospect it was a wreckless and irresponsible move to ignore the symptom. It was 12 years ago I underwent open-heart surgery because of an aneurysm which was a ticking time-bomb according to the surgeon. Post-op declarations were all clean bills of health. Subsequent annual cardiologist check-ups also concluded without any flags. Surely this life-altering experience would have taught me how to deal with a serious symptom. Nope.

The following day I found myself experiencing shortness of breath again. I took a moment to assess what got me to this point. I had neglected my body’s need for sufficient sleep. Poor eating habits. A decline in my physical fitness regimen. Let me not overlook the stress. Oh how the stress has become a daily companion roped around my neck. I had already been saved once from an unsuspecting time-bomb. Now had I carelessly constructed one of my own?

…On the island I lay here; used to be a sandbox and I played there. Far from the playground I've gone; life a routine reconciling only that which I have won…

At some point it all became abundantly clear nearly all my decisions have been wrong. The single commonality among those decisions was the goal.

If I want to make a dynamic and transformative change it will have to start with redefining my goal. Singular. No more bucket list aspirations. One objective for which I am committed and dedicated. A goal not enhanced by the opinions of others. A goal not manufactured from social engineered marketing ploys and false dreams of grandeur.

Making a choice eliminating distractions and ridding my life of inadequacies. Being decisive about life’s purpose. I’m certain the purpose of life is more than what the track I’m on will achieve.

International Women's Day 2017 //

India, despite the false and overly negative representation by western culture, traditionally has regarded women with the utmost respect. It’s the reason why the nation which is also the world’s largest democracy and home to the Hindu religion which is older than 5000 years is also known as Mother India. In this glorious nation, a lady is adoringly referred to as Goddess Lakshmi, as the embodiment of goodness, prosperity, wealth, and infinite power. Although t’s very underwhelming to celebrate the immense magnitude of womanhood with only a single day, it beams the spotlight on the importance of women’s contributions to humanity and society throughout history.

The Swaminarayan faith derives its principles from the Vaishnav traditions. As Swaminarayan devotees, the importance of women is well documented from Lord Swaminarayan’s childhood through His 49 years on Earth. Examples begin with His doting and loving mother Bhakti-mata, the epitome of love and devotion, to His unabashedly devout and pure devotees KaraniBa, JivuBa, LaduBa, Gangama, JatanBa, to name just a few.

Lord Swaminarayan established two successors to carry on the responsibilities of the sect through His nephews who were appointed as Acharyas; one for the northern seat based in Ahmedabad and one for the southern seat based in Vadtal. This decision proved to be progressive and most compassionate as it provided a Guru upon which the female devotees would rely. The wife of the Dharmavanshi Acharya (authentic and legitimate) is addressed as Akhand Sobhagyavati Gadiwalashri. She’s the one who can initiate women into the fold by imparting the guru-mantra. She is affectionately referred to as Baa (mother) by the disciples as she’s the mother of the sect. Swaminarayan devotees have a clearly defined guru for men and women. This separation is not to diminish one over the other, but rather, it’s to emphasize the importance of preserving the sanctity and honor of women by providing a guru who can empathize, sympathize, guide, teach, and lead through the unique and most special female perspective.

In the modern day, women are capable of doing anything men can do. Yet the news reports on a daily basis crimes against women which brings shame on all humanity. These are mothers, sisters, daughters and any harm brought upon them is the gravest sin. Women can be CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, world-class sports athletes, dynamic scientists, life-saving doctors, policy shifting politicians, global-trekking explorers, critically acclaimed writers, and at the same time bear and raise children while managing households.

Taking a step away from the religious affiliation this lovely melody has, the first line is a stirring statement of salvation from one’s own demons. It starts “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me…”

Powerfully moving when one is looking in the mirror and ashamed at who appears. The sins crafted in the mind can carve out an estate within it and furnish it with feelings of guilt, angst, frustration. Swimming in an ocean of lost opportunities and broken relationships is enough to submit to currents and drown. Listening to this one line one time in solitude and tranquility though can awaken the source of our lost joys. This one line is a beacon of hope summoning the strength to persevere until making it ashore.