1 year on...

This will probably be a very difficult post to write, maybe culminating in little more than incoherent rambling. But I have to attempt it. Difficult though I find it to get any creative juices flowing in these dried-up times, I would probably regret not documenting these unique days.

Straight up, I have to acknowledge with immense gratitude that I have been lucky in terms of my health and that of my loved ones. Even putting this fact down on paper awakens a sense of superstitious foreboding – “don’t draw attention to it and therefore cause fate to curse it”. Very Indian way of (not) celebrating luck, lest one spoke too soon. Speaking from a place of infinite gratefulness, I still want to recognize and accept that this is probably one of the most difficult times I, like many others, are facing. My heart breaks when I read the news, especially now that India is suffering so very deeply. But this post isn’t about the general, its not about Weltschmerz, so I’ll try to focus.

My challenges in this past year have been mental, more than physical – aside from the surgery that I had to undergo and am still recovering from. Like many of us, I’ve spent most of my days locked up at home, in varying degrees of anxiousness and fear. Like an unfortunate sizeable number, I’ve spent most of that time away from my family and partner. As someone who doesn’t own a car nor a valid German driving license, I continue to feel trapped in a city that I don’t like living in, where I have few friends. Taking public transport is a risk that I have chosen to avoid whenever possible, making my short sojourns out of Bonn highly sporadic and rare. Having no other choice then, I have thrown myself into TV shows and books – my most recent achievement being that I’ve read the entire Harry Potter series in a month. Yes, all the books, even the fat one. The fantasy world seemed easier to live in, right up until Sirius and Dumbledore died and I found myself bawling like I didn't know perfectly well that it was coming.

Right about when Corona first hit Germany, when home office was still a novelty and we kept forgetting our mask while stepping outdoors, I was unfairly and unceremoniously out of a job. There commenced weeks and eventually months of writing and sending job applications into a seemingly dark void, receiving the rare invitation to an interview and mustering up the energy to keep my head on straight while my visa expiration date steadily grew nearer. I must have written over 100 applications, and received less than 5% positive responses. In a field where stupidly high competition is already the norm, a global pandemic with 0 sporting events taking place definitely did not help my chances. A particular FIFA application brought an automatic response that each job they post receives around 900 applicants! Basically – thanks for your CV, but don’t hold your breath. To my surprise, I did get invited to an interview for that job. I remember waking up from surgery and lying in the recovery room already thinking about the interview that was scheduled for a week after. I was however informed quite openly by the end of that call that though my profile looked great, its “just much easier” to hire Europeans. Visa issues you see. Most International Sport Federations have their headquarters in Switzerland. And while the Swiss Government provides lots of benefits and tax shelters to these IFs, they also strongly restrict non-EU citizens living and working in the country. So how “international” are our sport federations?

With IFs out of my nationality-encumbered reach, with sport events not hiring for fear of uncertainty, I set about trying to dream up my own business ideas. I’m not sure whether it started as a way to keep my mind occupied, or whether a latent budding entrepreneur in me was finally given time to awaken. Slowly, dreams became word documents and excel sheets. 1 year down the line, I have managed to convince people other than myself that the ideas could be transformed into a viable business. Let’s see what the future holds then.

But it wasn’t a straightforward path. There have been days and weeks where everything looked hopeless. Where getting out of bed was a real challenge, with nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. On these days I let myself wallow, spending the day in bed until I finally tired of it by evening, and finally went to shower. I have hesitated to reach out, as much for not wanting to burden friends who obviously also have their own struggles, but also because sometimes escape is easier than talking and feeling. Although no one was hiring due to Covid, the visa office did not extend the time I had to search for a job. It meant that every day the threat of having to uproot my whole life was becoming more and more real. I tried to write a blog then, it came out like this:

 

I stand at the very edge of the world – like it is indeed flat. If I take one more step, I will find out if I developed wings in the past year, and whether those wings are strong enough to help me fly. If not, I will fall like a stone into the darkness.

It’s a paralyzingly scary place to be. One which is lonely and forces me to question every decision I’ve made in the past years, especially the ones that lead me here.

People tell me that it will work out, that it will be okay, that I shouldn’t put so much pressure on myself. But how do they know it will be okay? It very well could turn out to be not okay. I could lose my home, the life that I’ve struggled to build over 6 years, eventually my partner and my career. Yes, it’s the worst-case scenario. But when the past year has been littered with bad luck and worst-cases, its hard to keep the faith.

I do what I can to keep going. I do what I must to keep moving. Because if I stop, I will fall. Baby steps of movement every day, whether it’s a new idea, a new attempt or a new hope. Like sinking into quicksand, only small, slow movements can get me to safety. I am advised to ditch any excess weight, to breathe deeply, ask for assistance and use my resources wisely. Most importantly, to keep my head above the surface.

Its dark here, the sunshine is faded and far-away. The light is so dim that its hard to see the end of the tunnel. I suppose it is there, prior experiences tell me its always there. But also, what if this time its not? What if this time it gets worse, again, instead of better? This time I know to value what I do have. And somehow, this is scarier. When you know what you have, you know what you can lose.

I withdraw because people don’t understand. I think people don’t understand because they don’t say the right things. But when they do say the right things, I don’t believe them. Because how would they know the future? There is no winning, there is only guilt and alienation. So I withdraw to where its safe. I want to stay there until this is all over. But I can’t stay, this quicksand is a ticking time bomb. So I can’t stay, I have to wake up and I have to keep moving. Because if I don’t, I will fall.

 

Seeing these thoughts in writing scared me even more than thinking them in loop, so I didn’t publish it. I let it sit, and I tried my best to function.

Less than 2 months later, things are definitely looking up. It took some gutsy moves to get here. It took accepting that its ok to change track, to update my ambitions and question the norm. It took listening to my support system instead of my instinct to withdraw. Now, instead of feeling like I have no options, I actually have several. I actively fear making the wrong choice. My dad said there is no wrong choice, there is only the choice that you at this point think is the right one. So wise, yet so very unhelpful.

There are still several hurdles to cross, but I approach them cognizant of the progress I have made. This post started off with me wanting to document a very trying time in my life. I think it ends with me realising again that there is indeed light at the end of the tunnel. However dim and far it is, its there. So today I hope that we all, all of us who feel, love, and suffer, find the strength to take one more step. Rest, and then take one more, and then another.