I thought I'll share my thoughts?

Breath&Bone

Villain and Victim

Hi,

Now I am trying to write my second blog. But the thing is, I don't have anything to write, actually I don't have anything that I want to share. My relationship with ChatGPT has deepened. I ask it existential questions now, instead of just primary physician things like, "Do these symptoms point towards a serious illness?"

I have been waiting for what seems like quite a while now for a show I did to release. It's a big show, I am not going to mention the name here, it's somewhere on this website, if you look hard enough. Anyway, I have been waiting for this show to release for a very long time now, because it will just be so exciting when it does. Also, it will answer the oh-so-many questions of "So, what exactly do you do?" from my relatives.

I don't know Aunty, I try not to die everyday from crippling anxiety, I try to overcome the system of oppression and patriarchy I was born into all the while questioning what it means to be a human, an artist, how can I give back, not disappoint my family, be loving, and in the middle of all of that I make auditions sometimes. That's what I do. Also, I do think all the money I have earned till now from doing that, and trust me chachiji, it's been a decent amount, has gone into making very few people even richer.

Sorry, what were you saying?

The unending silent yet extremely blood-curdling loud expectations and questions and inquiries of people living far away and yet so close to that one blood vessel inside the left side of your skull is so high. And sometimes, amidst you know, finding yourself as an artist, and wondering what do I have to offer to this world? - sometimes, sometimes these things get to you.

And I also wonder - sorry, is there a solution to this? No. Is this bitterness good for me? No. Do I have anything to prove to anyone? No. And yet, this teeny-tiny voice in the back of my head, under all the Instagram crap I consume all day, will inevitably go like, "One day they'll see." I hate that. I hate that I feel it. But I do.

So, as I sat wondering by myself, all of these things, this past week, and very comfortably sat in the victim seat, soft and warm, someone said to me - "Oh how nice. Now you can spend the whole week cribbing about your suffering."

It got me back to reality so quick, and made me realize, if you don't have people that can call you out on your bullshit, then you need some better people in life.

You see what I learned was, you need these people in your life, the chachis, the aunties, the uncles as much as you need the person who told me to basically shut it up and focus on my goals. You need these people sometimes to remind you, of what is really important in life, to question your own intentions always, and to keep working. Because you simply have the privilege to.

And anyway, another very cool person in my life said to me, "Kamakshi, if you make other people in your life a villain, because you don't want to be a victim anymore, you are still a victim."

Read that again.

Repetition and Rebellion

I want to write a blog. No—I've been told to write a blog by someone I hold very dear to my heart, and unfortunately or fortunately, I cannot say no to them. How this person knew that I like writing absolutely random things, I do not understand.

As I write, Grammarly keeps telling me that none of my sentences are in proper grammar, and it’s making me annoyed. Do we really need the kind of help we get in today’s world just to be? It feels like the conspiracy is to disable us from thinking or doing anything for ourselves at all.

Speaking of getting “help,” has anyone been low-key obsessed with ChatGPT? I think I want to be honest and share some of the things I have “spoken” to ChatGPT about. Some interesting topics include:

“Can you give me breakfast options that take less than 10 minutes to make?”
“What is my 2025 horoscope?”
“I am bored.”
“Multiple workout plans?”
“How do I make running a hobby?”
“Is my cat bored?”
“Is this a good poem?”
“Kokum juice for acidity.”
“Collagen supplement benefits explained.”

A simple “How’s it going?” has also been there. Why would I write this? With what intention? It’s worrying.

Here are some of the truly heart-wrenching ones:

“Help for migraine.”
“Help for migraine and acidity.”
“Help for acidity.”
“Can I eat kadhi if I have a migraine?”
“Can I drink chai with acidity?”
“Meals for acidity.”
“Cold compression or hot for migraine?”
“Black tea and gas.”

At this point, ChatGPT is my official physician. Honestly, the number of times I have thought to myself that I might have a serious illness that I should get checked rather than relying on ChatGPT has been alarmingly low. But I have noticed that my need to engage with it is higher when I’m dealing with a bout of anxiety than when I’m not. And my research only tells me that this could make it worse. Even ChatGPT tells me this. And I have to trust my good friend, Mr. C GPT.

Shifting into a new house, with bright, beautiful, big French windows all around me and sunlight always pouring in, has brought a fresh perspective and relief to my anxiety-driven system. It is calm here, and life somehow feels slower. I’m still figuring out why. My wildest guess is that I am on the 11th floor now, and I feel so disconnected from the world that I might not be stepping out as much. In a few hours, it will be 48 hours since I last stepped out. And I feel so happy.

But I do plan on making full use of this time. I plan on becoming a slow, let’s-breathe-more-often kind of girlie. Cooking more, sitting by the window more, practicing my craft more, doing absolutely nothing more. And it all started today when I took an afternoon nap without guilt—well, some guilt—but I did it because my body demanded it.

One of the most important things I want to incorporate into my life this year, with my new home and room, is to own less stuff. Be minimal. Less stuff for me, more stuff for the cat. Have you ever noticed how your nervous system feels in a clean, organized room with less clutter? It feels great. It feels easier to breathe and think. And the naps are so much better.

My whole life is slowly edging towards building a life centered around being slow, conscious, and intentional. Living in “survival mode” (at this point, Instagram has already explained what this means) has made it hard to enjoy the simple things. And by enjoying them, I mean truly enjoying them—truly feeling joy in the first sip of your coffee in the morning.

When I say the words “truly feeling joy,” it makes me think of one thing. Is finding joy an act of repetition and rebellion?

This idea of enjoying small moments, of slowing down, has been ingrained in me for some time now. But no matter how many times I tried, I could never truly feel it—until one day, I did. And now that I do, it has given me the motivation to keep going.

Which begs another question—Is this the “enjoy the process, not the result” they talk about?

I am beginning to understand, I think, what they mean when they say happiness is a choice—a thing to find, a thing to want, a thing to explore, just like anything else in life. And once we find it, we must generate more of it—for ourselves and for others. And so it goes…

Or maybe, just maybe, hitting close to 30 is what this is all about.

Will someone inform me, please, if it is?