Draw the Line
Getting back to the surface is difficult after being swept up by the tsunamis of life. Sometimes, you need a mermaid to get it right.
The sound of her phone on the nightstand echoed across the room. With an opened mouth, and still brushing, she turned and hurried back to peek at the message.
“Thank you for your interest,” Zoya sighed, and dropped on the bed.
Her inbox was brimming with such subjects.
She lost her job in November of last year. Bills were piling up, creditors were calling every day, and the depression was at its worst.
As she swiped away the notification, as usual, Joe poked her into a thought, “People like you are never successful, and you ruin everyone with you.”
That was the closure of her eight years of marriage.
For two hours, Zoya lay in bed staring at the ceiling, ruminating about the final days of her marriage.
“That was four years ago; I need to move on. There is no point in thinking about it. Bad Zoya,” she bellowed in revulsion, forcing herself to rise.
An abrupt chirp interrupted her pouring coffee. Shaped liked a bowl, hanging steady on top of the patio wires, the nest was unusually perfect.
A hummingbird was feeding her two chicks.
“Great!” When did this happen?” she grumbled, “Now I have to hear them all day.”
Sliding the doors with a resounding thud, she picked up the remote and sank into the couch. Her smart TV had many apps, all with canceled subscriptions. Just local channels for now.
“Our brains take in a lot of information when we write by hand,” the man in the white lab coat said on TV.
“Not in the mood for you,” uninspired, she began flipping through the channels. But in no time, the science dude was back:
“Most humans have their predominant language center in the brain’s left hemisphere, although signatures and other graphic pictograms usually get processed by the right hemisphere. There must be communication between the hemispheres because the essential picture of the event, or the point being made, is located in the right hemisphere and gets translated into the language in the left.”
Marc J. Seifer, Ph.D.
The lady next to him said,
“When handwriting, fine and precise hand movements are involved. These sensory experiences create contact between different parts of the brain and open it up for learning so that we both learn and remember better.”
Eva Ose Askvik, Researcher
Zoya remembered how handwriting helped her memorize calculus formulas better.
But why is communication important between the two sides of the brain?
Left understands language, right perceives events.
Can we change the “meaning” of an event?
A Close Encounter
Depression was ruling her day. Walking sluggishly towards her bed, she unlocked her phone. A quick search for “sleep music” gave her plenty of options.
Delta Waves? Is this something new? The description read, “healing, pain relief, and deep sleep.”
She put on her headphones and closed her eyes.
Flowing, slow music. Inhaling deeply, she calmed herself down. In her vision, it was a starry night with her floating on calm waters.
With a tiny splash, a bright light grew underwater, and a face emerged. She placed her warm hand on Zoya’s forehead and whispered impassionately, “Relax, my child.”
Zoya kept her eyes closed.
Her shoulders sagged. Her neck curved.
But as her breath touched at the back of the throat, she lit up! From the top to the bottom, she was feeling billions of tiny sparks.
Let your mind wander, don’t worry about it.
Stoically, Zoya tried to stop the lingering thought of Joe complaining about her cooking. When it faded, the mermaid placed her right hand on Zoya’s heart.
“Why did you do that?”
“You asked me not to think”, replied Zoya innocently.
“When you stop thinking, you feel what’s bothering you. Those thoughts are your body’s way of speaking to you,” she said. “Tell me how you feel about the last thought.”
A confused expression spread across her face as she stared at the green almond eyes.
“He didn’t like your cooking,” the mermaid primed.
“No. I wasn’t enough,” Zoya almost cried but held back her tears.
“Success in life? A thought from this morning”
How did the mermaid know? Zoya was shocked.
“I’m from you, Zoya,” said the mermaid in a high, clear tone. “I have been with you your entire life, and I know there is more. I want you to say what you feel.”
“I was so nice to my husband,” her eyes welled with tears. “I loved him when he was sick, I loved him when he had his surgery. I loved him when he started a business, spent all our savings on it, and lost our house. Joe said so many mean things to me before he left.”
“You think you are unworthy of a life partner,” she replied.
“I feel like I wasted ten years of my life,” Zoya said with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had dreams too. I wanted a happy family, a successful career, a house with a picket fence, but he left, and I am all alone now.”
“He crushed your dreams. You were doing well in your career,” again, the mermaid primed.
“I didn’t do well ever since he left. He was right. I will never be successful,” Zoya cried in a trembling voice. “My work since the divorce has been average. My manager kept finding flaws in my work. I used to be so positive, and now I have lost my touch.”
“You are not producing your best work, and it feels like a failure,” the mermaid attentively followed the trail.
“Joe left even after eight years of marriage. My teammates didn’t want me. Everyone leaves me.” Zoya sobbed.
What the mermaid said next left no doubts about her introduction.
“You feel abandoned. You think these birds will leave too.”
A flood of tears erupted from Zoya. She got up and held a pillow, pushing her face into it.
“I feel stuck,” a few minutes later, a thought snapped her out of the wet pillow.
Laying in bed for a while, she turned on the music and closed her eyes, hoping to see the mermaid again. But the mermaid had left.
I come when you stop thinking, she remembered. Five seconds to inhale, five seconds to exhale. She learned about this in her yoga class. Breathing this way allows us to take control of the brain. And soon, she was floating again.
Golden light beamed from the top, flooding her chest. “You are a good person, Zoya,” the mermaid reappeared behind the light. She had her left hand on Zoya’s forehead and the right hand going through a rift in her chest as if she was searching for something.
“You are a surfer. You’re tired of trying to make sense of your divorce. For four years, the force has pushed you underwater. My heart is full of pride. I see you fighting back from the depths of the ocean to reemerge, to ride the waves again.” Zoya saw the mermaid withdraw a sharp shiny fragment from her chest.
“Do you remember how you got into product management?”
The scene from six years ago played on the golden light. She worked on the user experience team. The product manager argued with his boss and left abruptly. The team panicked when they realized they had less than a month to deliver the work. Zoya stepped up on her own. She inspired everyone to deliver a product far better than the customers expected. As she exhaled, another shard came out on its own.
“When would you expect someone to leave a place?” the mermaid asked curiously. “When they are unhappy in that place,” responded Zoya compassionately. “Do you think Joe was unhappy?” the mermaid followed up. “Definitely. But why?” asked Zoya impatiently. The mermaid knew something about Joe. She was about to find out. It was all going to make sense.
“Every person has expectations from life… a picket fence… a fulfilling career. We like to believe that we have the right values and expectations and that those with different expectations are wrong.” The mermaid paused — Zoya could hear the silence. The mermaid clasped her hand and leaned forward through the light.
“Is it possible that Joe wouldn’t be happy, no matter how much you loved him?”
“But we had the same expectations from life. We dated for two years,” replied Zoya.
The mermaid smiled, “You were a user experience researcher for four years before becoming a product manager. Would you be happy if it stayed the same?”
Zoya became calm. The mermaid was right. The change brought transformation to her life, and she loved it. Then she thought,
What if Joe was really frustrated with his life towards the end of their marriage? How much pain did he feel when he was going through it?
Zoya took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, another shard came out of her chest. She was feeling relaxed.
“It takes strength to work through our differences. But, if we can’t, it’s okay to leave,” Zoya conceded.
“Sometimes, it’s because we need to grow ourselves. All you need is to draw a line between pain and growth,” the mermaid concluded.
Learning to Ride
“That was some dream.” Zoya had slept for 10 hours. The usual overcast over Puget Sound didn’t deter her from smiling as she walked down the street. Strange energy permeated her, almost as if she were hopping.
Sitting at the coffee shop, she pondered about the dream and what it meant. Ping! She peeked at the notification. Her eyes went wide as she quickly opened the email.
“Yes!” she shouted, holding up her fist.
The mermaid struck her mind again. Flipping her notebook, she drew a line in the center of the page.
Yes, that’s what the mermaid did; she asked me to stop thinking and pay attention to my thoughts. She felt what I felt; she listened carefully. Then she reframed my concerns in a positive way. The science people on TV said the brain learns better when we write these with our hands. Zoya was astonished. She had found a way to convert a negative feeling into a positive one. She discovered a way to change the meaning of a past event.
Zoya had found a way to heal her wounds.
The Odd Interviews
Feeling uncomfortable the night before the interview, her mind was swarming with thoughts from the past. All failures.
“It’s time to draw the line,” she said, getting up.
She looked at the paper, sighed in relief, and smiled, This is magic.
The next day, Zoya was calm as a cucumber. The first interviewer seemed a bit rude.
“Director of product…” glancing at her resume, he asked, “How many people did you manage?” His eyes fastened on Zoya’s.
“Three”, Zoya responded.
“Just three? How does that qualify you for a director?” he jeered. “As a director at places where I have worked, I had to manage at least 30 people,” Martin cackled.
“I was promoted for growing the business threefold,” Zoya replied confidently.
Unexpectedly, Martin continued to compare Zoya’s past experiences with his own. Why is he asking me these questions? Why the comparison? She pondered.
“How long have you worked here, Martin?”
Not expecting the question, he almost stuttered, “A-About three months.”
“And why did you leave your previous job? Seems like you enjoyed working there.”
It seemed as if he needed permission to speak; Martin flooded the conversation with his past achievements. An experienced manager respects the 90-day mark; it is when almost every new employee realizes it’s the end of their honeymoon period. Martin was going through a difficult time. For the next 10 minutes, Zoya spoke with Martin like the mermaid — helping him draw the line.
“Don’t get me wrong. This company is really good, and I am proud to work here,” said Martin with a smile before concluding the interview.
Zoya didn’t know how that interview went; Martin didn’t ask her any relevant questions. But she was feeling better than before; she had developed a new skill.
I can help others think positively. I bet Martin will be much happier at work today.
A Forever Surfer
It was 5 pm when the interviews finished. Zoya stretched as she stood up from her desk and had a flashback of the day. Not bad, she thought. “It was different than any other interview day in the past,” she murmured.
She began comprehending in the notebook:
I used to ride waves. My divorce changed me and I went underwater. Each time I faced a challenge, it came as an underwater wave throwing me into turmoil, further drowning me. I would yearn for the good old days instead of learning how to live the new ones.
I am grateful for these waves, for they teach me to be a better, stronger surfer. I feel my new skills. I have learned how to be compassionate with myself and others. In the last four years, I have seen many kinds of waves. I used to avoid them, but now I look forward to them. I will use them to get out of the water and ride tsunamis of life.
I will take more risks, for I know how to heal.
5:35 PM, her phone went off. It was the recruiter. Must be calling to get my feedback on the interviews, thought Zoya as she picked up the phone.
“Hey, Jim, how’s it going,” without hesitation, she started the conversation.
“Hey Zoya, it’s going great. How were your interviews? What do you think?”
“I enjoyed speaking to all of them. They had such interesting questions. I learned a lot about the culture and problems you guys are solving,” Zoya responded enthusiastically.
“That’s great to hear, Zoya. Because we like you too and we want you. Everyone unanimously agreed that your skills and compassion will help us create the right products.”
The awkward silence lasted a few seconds.
“Well, here’s your verbal offer. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Not at the moment; I wasn’t expecting the decision so soon,” Zoya explained dumbfoundedly.
“Sure, take this weekend to think about it. I’ll follow up on Monday to hear your thoughts.”
“Oh, great. Thank you, Jim. Have a great weekend.”
“You too.”
Zoya couldn’t believe it.
Yes, I accept. She thought of calling the recruiter back to close the deal.
Maybe I should wait. What if the compensation needs to be more? I can research it over the weekend.
But what If they reject me if I ask for more, thinking I am greedy, countered her devil’s advocate. She looked at the phone; it was 5:47 pm. Two more days to go through this, sighed Zoya.
Arms crossed, resting her forehead on the patio door, she glared at the empty nest and murmured, “My birds left… they needed to grow.”
Her gaze shifted in the direction of the notebook when she heard the mermaid whisper faintly,
“Draw the line.”
