<p class="bodytext">Two years ago, when I started a brand new relationship with my newborn, life as I knew it and my whole being changed dramatically. It's quite a repetitive idea, granted, but I can’t think of another way to say it. Time with/for myself; finding food; finding compassion; finding anything around the house; my relationship with everybody around me — everything was different. </p>.<p class="bodytext">I think first-time parents would agree here – being a first-time parent means you’re searching for light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing much of what anybody tried to offer as advice was helping; it was getting increasingly difficult to share my problems with others. It was also getting increasingly obvious that most elders with children had forgotten the skills they had acquired to wade through this phase because the last they tried it was at least 30 years ago. I understand; who wouldn’t want to forget about those times you had to change cloth nappies 23 times a day.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Yes, there are self-help groups, but I was too focused on not having people I know and trust around me. Then, out of the blue, there came help in the form of some good old reassurance — through voice notes.</p>.<p class="bodytext">That famous app that hangs your social life on two bright blue tick-marks came handy like never before. I started exchanging simpler details of my day over voice notes with a few friends, some even time-zones away from me. It was quick and easy. The best part was, I didn’t have to see the phone ringing because I had no patience for untimely calls. But this was a different. When my child takes a nap, I make a cup of coffee for myself, exhausted after 4-5 hours of constantly being with her. Then, I sit down and press play. There’s a whole conversation right there; almost like a podcast. Even better, because I can send a reply and I know I will be heard. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Over time, simpler phrases expanded to complex sentences; they showed arcs and promise. We had chapters on not just everyday joys, jibes and dilemmas, but dreams, childhood traumas, disillusionments, scars, fears and realizations. Some of us even thought what we shared would make for good stand-up comedy material. There were some beautiful stories being told unabashedly, uninterrupted mostly. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Of course, our smarter-than-us, predator-like phones did “eavesdrop” and threw back at us the things we discussed, thanks to social media tracking. My daily news feeds suddenly started to offer, “7 ways to keep negativity away from your life.” But despite all that, it was helping us in many ways. Our woes have an outlet. It’s almost as though we’re telling these stories to ourselves. We don’t have to find common time to talk, just a little time during the day whenever we can. And through the chaos and wilderness of our daily lives, we listen and talk a little, and then carry on. </p>
<p class="bodytext">Two years ago, when I started a brand new relationship with my newborn, life as I knew it and my whole being changed dramatically. It's quite a repetitive idea, granted, but I can’t think of another way to say it. Time with/for myself; finding food; finding compassion; finding anything around the house; my relationship with everybody around me — everything was different. </p>.<p class="bodytext">I think first-time parents would agree here – being a first-time parent means you’re searching for light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing much of what anybody tried to offer as advice was helping; it was getting increasingly difficult to share my problems with others. It was also getting increasingly obvious that most elders with children had forgotten the skills they had acquired to wade through this phase because the last they tried it was at least 30 years ago. I understand; who wouldn’t want to forget about those times you had to change cloth nappies 23 times a day.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Yes, there are self-help groups, but I was too focused on not having people I know and trust around me. Then, out of the blue, there came help in the form of some good old reassurance — through voice notes.</p>.<p class="bodytext">That famous app that hangs your social life on two bright blue tick-marks came handy like never before. I started exchanging simpler details of my day over voice notes with a few friends, some even time-zones away from me. It was quick and easy. The best part was, I didn’t have to see the phone ringing because I had no patience for untimely calls. But this was a different. When my child takes a nap, I make a cup of coffee for myself, exhausted after 4-5 hours of constantly being with her. Then, I sit down and press play. There’s a whole conversation right there; almost like a podcast. Even better, because I can send a reply and I know I will be heard. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Over time, simpler phrases expanded to complex sentences; they showed arcs and promise. We had chapters on not just everyday joys, jibes and dilemmas, but dreams, childhood traumas, disillusionments, scars, fears and realizations. Some of us even thought what we shared would make for good stand-up comedy material. There were some beautiful stories being told unabashedly, uninterrupted mostly. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Of course, our smarter-than-us, predator-like phones did “eavesdrop” and threw back at us the things we discussed, thanks to social media tracking. My daily news feeds suddenly started to offer, “7 ways to keep negativity away from your life.” But despite all that, it was helping us in many ways. Our woes have an outlet. It’s almost as though we’re telling these stories to ourselves. We don’t have to find common time to talk, just a little time during the day whenever we can. And through the chaos and wilderness of our daily lives, we listen and talk a little, and then carry on. </p>
