Losing my religion

By the time Tamanna was ten, she could read the signs of an imminent fight between her parents. Mother number one would bang doors a little too loudly. Mother number two would start deliberately apologising for the smallest of things. Tamanna knew from that point, it would take two days for the passive aggressive fight to turn into an all-out, take no prisoners war.

She had a method to deal with the fights. Tamanna would start retreating to her room sooner than her bedtime, citing homework, studying, research, planning for the next day, as an excuse. She would use a different one every time so they wouldn’t come to know that she had figured out their fight patterns.

And when the first bomb would detonate, she would close the door to her bedroom, quietly, and stuff a towel in the space that was left between the door and the floor. Thus insulated, Tamanna would lose herself in a book – any book she could find in her school’s library. Since her palette was so vast, she hadn’t run out of books despite needing them with a worrying frequency.

Over the years, when the towels stopped working, she would save her pocket money to buy noise cancelling headphones. This had obviously led to her trying out Audiobooks but the ritual of finding a book in her library, issuing it and then waiting for the right time to dive into it was as soothing as the ritual of reading itself.

The noise cancelling headphones furthered her isolation and on nights her book was particularly engrossing, she would forget to sleep.

Because it was a secret, no one outside her bedroom knew just how many books Tamanna devoured in her childhood. For her mothers, much to their chagrin, reading was a habit they had failed to inculcate in their daughter.

*

As Tamanna grew into an adult, and her mothers finally managed a healthier communication system to talk about their needs, reading as a solace was firmly embedded into her system. Everything was going great.

Until one day, her flatmate, partner, friend and all-around favourite human being asked her a question.

β€œHey, I haven’t seen you with a book in almost three months. Is everything okay?”

Tamanna looked up from her phone, where she had been busy increasing her TBR to an exorbitant number. She was so shocked by the observation; it took her the better part of fifteen minutes to process the question. It took her another fifteen to understand why she hadn’t picked up a book.

β€œOh,” she said, chagrined and mortified. β€œWe…that is to say it’s a good thing…but…we haven’t uh fought in uh three months so…”

Kaftan sat up on the sofa, disbelief clear on their face. She turned into a bright tomato and had to turn away to hide the shame and guilt. But they moved towards her, putting their arm around her shoulders.

They asked, β€œIs that how you coped?”

She nodded, her breath hitching. Once the tears started, it was like the dam broke and Tamanna allowed herself a good cry. Perhaps twenty years’ worth of tears were shed that evening.

Desperately trying to help, Kaftan blurted, β€œIf it helps, whenever you feel like reading, we could pretend to fight?”

Tamanna snorted. Wiping her face and chin, she said, β€œI don’t think that would be the healthiest option.”

β€œNo shit Sherlock.”

But they looked proud. It was their life coach you’re doing aces and I’m so glad you’re recognizing your patterns look. It exasperated Tamanna to no end. But secretly, she was pleased as well. Until Kaftan dropped another truth bomb.

β€œYou do realize that your coping mechanism was stopping you from processing your emotions?”

She grimaced. It was one, teeny-tiny really, drawback of having a life coach for a partner. They would point out your hurts. Even if Kaftan did it gently, it still bloody well hurt.

β€œWell, it’s a good thing I have you to help me, isn’t it?”

Kaftan put their head on her shoulder, mumbling, β€œAs long as you pay my fees…”

At which Tamanna laughed out loud and declared a tickle fight. And if the revelation led to Tamanna seeking help, there was no one prouder than she.


Song: Losing My Religion by R.E.M.

Check out the other posts for 2023 here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z

10 responses to “Losing my religion”

  1. True, coping mechanism stops from processing ones emotion. And this post is so touching, books are always an escape from reality for me too.
    Books help to actually sometimes understand one’s deepest hidden feeling that we miss out to understand. So sometimes reading heals and helps too.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh yes, reading has been my biggest therapist too πŸ™‚

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  2. The story is so sensitive. It really brings out the emotional health issues so beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Ambica 😁

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  3. Books are such solace even if they’re a coping mechanism.
    Glad Tamanna found Kaftan πŸ₯Ήβ£οΈ

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you 😊

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  4. Loved, loved the story. Read twice to make sure I got all the nuances…and the bit about hiding in books…tch tch hits too hard home…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow that…thank you. I feel really happy reading this ❀

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  5. I love this song so much, always sends me to another place which I guess Tamanah and I have in common! Also great use of this phrase and it’s meaning! πŸ’•

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    1. Yes it’s an interesting song but before I used it for this story, I actually did a “what does this song mean” search. It’s about losing your temper so I thought it was quite appropriate. Thank you πŸ™‚

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