Restorative Rituals for
Meaningful Self Care
I realized as I sat down to write this week, that this is my 75th post. I was tempted to continue on with what I was previously intending to write about, but something within me felt the need to mark the occasion. In a sense, I wanted to do what I always ask of my patients–to not let the small moments pass by unnoticed, but instead attend to it all as important.
When I started my blog about a year and a half ago, I began somewhat unceremoniously. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to say, or where I wanted to go with my writing. All I knew is that I wanted to have a small corner of the internet where I could share my thoughts. As I disclosed initially to a few close friends, I thought I might collect some ideas and stories with the hopes that one day, my children and their children could look back and remember our time together.
As I think about it now, if I examine my intentions just a little deeper, I realize that I wanted my children to see and recall the best sides of me. On a day to day, moment to moment basis, I find parenting difficult and challenging. I often lose my temper, get frustrated and irritated, or engage in useless power struggles.
In quieter moments, or reflective pauses, I can see a greater wisdom in my children. I can connect with a profound desire to share my love, my hopes and dreams for them, my fears and anxieties, in a more honest way. And yet so many minutes pass by in the haze of everyday life, where these words go unsaid, and the opportunity for that conversation vaporizes through my fingertips.
My blog is my chance to go back and relive those moments through the lens of my higher self. Write what I should have said, or shouldn’t have said, in the hopes that one day, when they read my words, they will at the very least, know I tried my best.
To my own surprise, my blog has become more than that for me. My blog has been a way to process and share ideas about mindfulness, compassion, and gratitude. It has been a way to connect to my patients, and perhaps patients who need help but may not ever step into the office of a psychiatrist. I often digest my sessions with my patients and write about what I learned from them, and many of them see themselves directly or indirectly in my words.
My blog has been a way to “meet” readers from all around the globe, with unique cultural backgrounds and life circumstances. My blog has been a way for me to process my own journey in psychotherapy, and put that out into the world in a more public way than I ever had before. Perhaps most importantly, my blog has been a way for me to open up and share my own vulnerabilities and fears, and let others “in” to my internal world and experience.
I am beyond grateful for my readers for letting me into their lives every Monday. I feel deeply honored that in this busy world, individuals take the time to read my words, and that inspires me to keep writing. I have read words that have changed me, become a part of me, saved me, and I only hope to contribute to the flow of healing energy by putting such words back out into the universe.
To each and every one of you who has been a part of my writing journey in some way, thank you. I am truly blessed to have you in my life.
With gratitude, Monisha
As I enter into my 41st year, I felt a sudden desire to return here to my blog and write. It has been awhile. I have shared poems and other words on social media, and a few here as well. But, it has been some time since I have sat down to reflect, write out
For you whose light has been dimmed in an already dark world— For you whose voice has been muted in a loud screaming world— For you who feels lost in a world full of mirrors— Breathe. When every warm body is out of reach, you have the power to hold your own heart with a
Holding hands in the dark, the wash of moonlight spilling onto the sheets. A kiss on my cheek and a hug that lingers long enough to feel the solid warmth of skin and bone. The breath of a sunset sky, and the heat of thunder and lightning pouring cleansing waters from above. A singular burgundy