Today, I was 1.5 hour into a movie, at the movie theatre. About a half hour after the intermission.
The imitation game. A brilliant movie, I love the actor, I loved the relationship equations being portrayed in the movie, and it was just closing in to the climax.
All I wanted to do was lean my head on the seat in front of me.

I wasn't unwell. Not physically. At the theatre that is.
I did have a friend next to me, but I didn't want to lean on him. I just wanted to rest my head, which was suddenly feeling too heavy for my neck somewhere. Put my head down.

One a side note: Personally, I feel the shoulder is one of the most attractive feature on men. Some so broad, like they were made just to be leant on. With the right person, that support is priceless.

I think it's a natural instinct, to get into a position which ensures more supply of blood to the part of the brain that is suddenly - forcibly - put on overdrive. To lean forward, and shut eyes as well in the process.
What got the brain into an overdrive was a 2 minute conversation. So crazy. That simple.

And the leaning ...well I didn't do it this time. 

But I have given in, many a time, and trust me, it helps. If not for anything else, but for providing one moment of absolute peace, that'll strengthen you right up before going back to deal with the chaos reigning in the mind.

Yesterday...

Time..habits...

Weird things those. They change so many things.

Yesterday, I heard something.
Logically, I should have...could have rather, felt bad, or sad about it.
I was just pleasantly happy for him.
Not in the defensive self protective, opposite acting out kinda way, but genuinely happy that he found someone for himself. I'd believed that I might feel bad about it. Expected so even. But time, wonderful thing that it is, has made it possible that it didn't matter to me at all.
He is no more an emotion. He is just a memory. A memory of interesting emotions once felt. Not even special enough to fondly remember much.
He is just somebody who once was.
(It is a possibility that we knew we were not right for each other, and hence I never actually registered him that much. Yet, I believed that I had cared enough to care. But no more. Which is a pleasant relief. :) )

Yesterday, my grandma slashed her hand. Early in the morning, as she opened the gate for me to leave for work.
At first it didn't bleed, but in 3 seconds, it was a blood bathed finger. In her right hand, that too! I quickly got the first aid kit, and left after she assured me that it wasn't deep and that it didn't hurt much, and with my sister in charge.
I get home in the evening to see that my grandmother, obsessive cleaner that she is, had done everything she would do on a normal day, and was soberly sitting with a very swollen ring finger. Especially with the blood still oozing a bit. Considering she's diabetic, and it had been more than 12 hours since she cut herself... Not a nice scene.
Queasy around blood, I've always been.
Yet weirdly, first aid is almost an instinct for me.
Not that I know exactly what to do all the time. But I do know how to get it done, and the will/ patience/ gut to stick around till it's done. No matter how much blood there is. No matter how queasy it makes me.
I guess it has a lot to do with all the time I've spent in the hospital as a kid. I remember at least 2 whole summers there.
It's strange that I hate the smell of hospitals... still can't get a shot/ get blood drawn alone, without my dad or someone close standing close to me, and letting me squeeze their hand, as my eyes stay firmly tightly shut. Still will not go to a hospital unless it's terribly serious, and I have no strength to stop.. no, fight the people (plural - requirement. Trust me) who are dragging me there.
And yet, I feel safest in a hospital. A place where people in white coats can make the worst news seem like something that can be gotten through, something that can be overcome. White coats with the power to give hope to the hopeless, and time to the dying. Sometimes, rarely, even life to the dying.
Yesterday, I spoke to my cousin who is a doctor, got my instructions, and when I was done with her finger 2 hours later (repeated ice compresses and cotton presses and whatnot) the swelling had completely gone away, and the bleeding stopped. As I wrapped it up for the night, I felt a feeling of accomplishment, more than I would do after 3 solid days of work!

Habits... ingrained over time, almost made as instinctive as a reaction
Time ... changing what once used to be habit, to mere memories

Strange things those.
Strange wonderful things.

Primal Insticts: The Protective

Yesterday, a friend of mine...a male friend of mine was forcibly involved in an argumentative settlement/ meeting. He was taken as his department representative, and had to listen to being blamed for the better part of 2 hours, for no fault of his. The blaming apparently was quite strong and derogatory as well.

He came out of the meeting visibly furious. Since we all go back in the same office bus, another friend of ours and I were still waiting for him inside, rather than in the bus.

He stormed to his workstation, and in a moment of uncontrollable rage, flung a huge box file on his desk. Papers were flying and he just stood there seething for a moment. Not usually used to this kind of blatant rage, I stood shocked, and stopped in my tracks quite farther away from him than I would have usually gone.

Normally, I think (since I've never actually been in a similar situation before. (I've occasionally been the one flinging things ;) )) I wouldn't have gone closer...stayed at a safe distance and quietly watched and waited for him to calm down. That feels like the response that I would have expected from me.

Yesterday, I went over, helped him pick up the strewn papers and then walked with him to the bus. We (The other friend and I) even sat together, and made him calm down and laugh. All the while, at least in the beginning, I was wondering why I had this strange urge to hug him and soothe him.

He is a work friend, married and to clarify, I have no romantic feelings towards him. However, he is a really good friend of mine.

I have heard of friends who have been relationships that involved violence, and friends of friends who have been physically abused as well. I have always thought that it was crazy and/ or stupid of them to stay in them. I never understood why any rational/ sane person would willingly even stay in touch with a person who is violent, or worse, uses violence against them. So, my reaction…instinctive urge rather was quite confusing to me. Even if I didn't act upon it, a possible (unreasonable!) explanation, to the till now strange behaviours of those women didn't sit really well with me.

Well however, some things do make sense now. Though I still (somewhat) strongly believe, (and now hope as well!) that I won’t tolerate being in a relationship with violent or abusive men. Of course, there are levels of violence/ abusiveness… so how much of it will get covered under the protective instincts of women, and beyond what level does it go to intolerable/ habit? I wonder…

I know my friend was just acting out of rage, and didn't harm anyone, and calmed down soon after. I'm not making excuses for him. Just that I found an opportunity to partly discover something new about myself and about humans in general. We sure are a strange, complex and interesting species!