When I was a young girl, I battled a war-zone in my own home the only way I knew how. I was passionate, danced to songs I was told I  “shouldn’t” and brought home stray, injured animals to nurture and nurse to health again. 

 

I didn’t know that things should be different. 

 

The yelling? Didn’t everyone’s parents yell? The manipulation? The constantly tensed body language? The hurtful words and actions towards one another? Wasn’t that part of everyone’s upbringing? 

 

But then I started to see the writing on the wall.

 

Every time I went over to my close friends’ homes, I sensed lightness in the air. I couldn’t tell what was different but I had a feeling that the heaviness at my place was not normal by any standards.

 

While other young kids around me were simply being kids, I was carrying deep, heavy secrets of my family that were weighing down on my tiny shoulders. What happened in the four walls of our home was never allowed to leave, so I found myself growing into an adult much sooner than those around me. 

 

I thought it was normal to have to mediate and clean up after your parents’ fight. 

 

The responsibility felt real. As if holding the family together was my sole purpose. So I succumbed to it.

 

It soon almost felt comfortable putting on a show, accommodating to the needs of others, putting everyone else first, and shrinking myself in order to make things okay for my family. The older I got, the better I became at this and at some point, I took pride in it. 

 

I looked like I had everything together.

 

But that was a lie.

 

Eventually, my parents divorced. And as you may well suspect, what we thought would end the pain once and for all was only the beginning of more emotional turmoil, pain and struggle for all of us.

 

It was during the years of their divorce process (especially) that the underlying dysfunction in both sides of my family become increasingly apparent. But I didn’t know it at that point. All I knew was that what both sides of the family perceived as normal approaches to interpersonal relationships were in fact pretty darn unhealthy. 

 

Neither side was better; just two extremes. And undoubtedly toxic. 

 

With familial, cultural and societal pressure around their divorce, the responsibility on my shoulders kept getting heavier, to a point when in fact, I started falling apart physically. 

 

I was 18 when my shoulder first dislocated. It shattered my own internal proclamation that I had everything together — a long-term boyfriend, a career path I was passionate about, a body I was proud of and a Bollywood dance side-business. My picture-perfect life was beginning to look far from perfect.

 

My parents kept fighting; in the court as well as outside. I kept falling apart, joint after joint.

 

Four years and fifty medical professionals from all over the world later, I was finally diagnosed with a rare illness called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome Hypermobility type in which ‘falling apart’ is exactly what your joints do. 

 

It was a dark time for me. I wasn’t just becoming weaker physically, I was now mentally, emotionally and psychologically close to falling apart. Or maybe I already had. I stopped trusting myself and the people around me. I felt closed and shut down. I was tired; the kind very few truly experience. 

 

My darkest secret at the time? I realized I didn’t love myself at all. 

 

Sure - I loved the things I could do when my body was healthy, but when it came down to just loving me for me, no matter my circumstances? Whew - that was a new journey altogether.

 

I felt lost, confused, anxious, unable to tell right from wrong. I could no longer discern between the voices of those around me and my very own voice. I wasn’t even sure I had a voice of my own at that point. 

 

Despite having people around me, I felt lonely and isolated. Like I was in a different world altogether. I could no longer connect with most of my friends and practically no one from the family. I felt depleted. I had no more energy left in me for anything or anyone, no mental capacity to make decisions.

 

I could no longer act like I had it all together. 

 

My parents seemed bent on creating as much harm to each other as possible, my little brother had largely become my responsibility,  my career path was changing (or rather, seemed non-existent), my body was weakening and I didn’t know what I wanted out of life anymore. 

 

At times I’d find myself wondering if this was the life I was meant to live. 

 

So then I did what you’re looking to do  - I got some help.

 

And through that help, I realised that what I had experienced was abuse and trauma. I was able to actually call it what it was, and understand that I was a victim of narcissistic abuse in my own family. 

 

As children, we accept psychological, verbal, mental abuse because we don’t know any better. In fact, our brains are at a point in development where they are wired to believe that anything that happens in the family is a direct reflection of something we did. 

 

As a child, you were a victim of the toxicity around you and somewhere it left you deeply wounded. But now, as an adult, you have the ability to reflect on your past with all the maturity of an adult brain and the help of a qualified guide (that’s me!).

 

Look, I don’t believe in the forced healing of relationships. I’m not going to suggest you sing kumbaya and everything will go away. Healing takes time. It’s uncomfortable and often feels unsettling until it’s not anymore. It’s a long process with ups and downs. And the ways in which you ultimately choose to navigate your way through difficult relationships will be up to you.

 

What I promise to help you with is understanding the dysfunction in your family that has lead to the problems you’re dealing with today. I’ll help you make peace with the fact that what you wanted in a family and what you got are two different things (this one took me a while!). And I’ll hold your hand while you redefine what family means to you. I’ll also support you as you do the shadow work because I know it’s easier when you have someone walk the dark roads with you. 

 

You can get out of the struggle you’re in now, I know it in my bones. 

 

And I’m here to help.