Smita Shares
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Smita Moon

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How My Teeth Are “So White”

This will be a brief post, but – over the years – I have been asked “how my teeth are so white” by a plentiful amount of people. Humbly, for someone who went through a major Diet Coke (I know, I know) phase and loves coffee and tea, my teeth are very white, and the simple reason is STRAWS (staining happens but in the back of my teeth). The below is a no filter pic.


Back in 2011, I bought my first set of glass straws (I was a trailblazer in the reusable straw use!) for a whopping $26 for FOUR. Prices have come down considerably, so I wanted to share!

I personally prefer glass straws, but they are (obvs) more fragile and require more delicate handling. That being said, I use steel straws as well. Yes, #ALLTHESTRAWS!

Glass option: ($12): https://amzn.to/2lO3s5x

Steel option: ($12): https://amzn.to/2lgEKKx

Enjoy and, until next time,

 

 

 

 

 

* Disclosure: Smita Shares is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon properties.  Amazon, in turn, offers a small commission on products sold through their affiliate links. Each of your purchases via our Amazon affiliation links supports my being able to share the things I love (& genuinely personally use and recommend to friends and family) at no additional cost to you. 

What about sponsored content? 
I do not write sponsored posts.  I want to bring you real, unbiased information.  However, if a post is sponsored by a company, I will disclose this clearly in the beginning of the post. 

As for my social media pages where I use Amazon & other affiliate links for product recommendations, I will include a link to this post, or put “(affiliate link)”, or #ad in the post. 

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“Kabir Singh” was GARBAGE Spoiler Alerts

As many of you know, I love movies, and I am a huge Bollywood movie “buff” (if you will). Yes, I was born and raised in “Amreeka,” but I’m as desi as one can get for not having born in the Motherland. Now that I’ve unnecessarily explained myself, here’s a disclaimer: THIS. IS. MY. OPINION. When someone states their opinion – even if they state it as fact (as I am about to and always will) – that doesn’t mean it is fact kinda like how your opinions aren’t facts either (I know, crazy). They are this beautiful subjective thing, so no one needs to feel any kind of personal affront knowing that I didn’t like something that you may have liked.

Also, my feelings about the movie do not negate how much I love Shahid Kapoor as an actor and that he did a fantastic portraying what he was asked to in his role as the lead in “Kabir Singh.” 

Now that we got that out of the way *eye roll*…

First off, I know that many people feel that movies have a social and ethical responsibility towards humanity since – particularly in South Asian culture – they are so influential to the social condition (albeit disturbing, nothing is more influential to culture and society than Bollywood films and celebrities as the latter are considered demigods of sorts), and I believe this to a degree but with a big fat caveat. I, personally, do not want movies to only reflect a desired utopia that doesn’t exist; instead, I want them to reflect what actually ails society (whether that be rape, domestic violence, addiction, corruption, etc.) – aka REAL LIFE – and I say this as a domestic violence survivor.

I also say the above thinking of Bollywood movies like Lajja, Prem Granth, or Vaastav. Lajja portrayed the suffering of 5 women so beautifully and painfully and – even though one character (Jackie Shroff’s) caused his wife incredible suffering – he evolved as a person and we were able to accept her forgiveness… Prem Granth was the story of survival after rape (& redemption and justice in the wake of it)… Vaastav depicts a troubled man who gets caught up in the world of gangs and meets his demise. &, yes, there are many movies where I can find the (technically) “bad guy(s)” to be endearing like Sarkar or the Don films, but – of all the thousands of Bollywood movies I must have seen over my lifetime – no story has ever pained me more, because Kabir Singh was simply an AWFUL HUMAN BEING (with NO redeeming qualities), and he was portrayed as a hero who gets his happy ending in spite of how much suffering and harm he caused others.

The movie is beyoooond problematic in its portrayal of misogyny and toxic masculinity , because… 1) It makes no attempt – not in the fine print disclaimers at the beginning or in any kind of feigned attempt during the film or after – to suggest that the character has any awareness that he has MAJOR ISSUES or that anyone else in his life thinks he isn’t a GOOD PERSON (having a drinking problem is one thing, but being a psychopathic asshole is another). 2) Kabir Singh is the epitome of a narcissistic sociopath who is a classic ABUSER. He abuses his standing in the school, and he abuses his family, friends, and the woman he purportedly loves. 

3) Accordingly, there was absolutely nothing endearing or charming about their “love story” (quotes because it wasn’t that); he EFFING SAW HER ONCE AND CLAIMED HER AS HIS LIKE A GODDAMN OBJECT.  So much so that he went in front of a class to announce that she was “his” (“woh meri bandi hain”) and threatened that there would be consequences for anyone who doesn’t abide by his proclamation. He knew nothing about her nature, character, values, beliefs, quirks, interests, or ANYTHING. HE JUST SAW HER ONE F*CKING TIME.

In 2019, I really would have hoped that we would have evolved past this storyline that was the entire premise of all Bollywood movies in the 80s and 90s (perhaps even well before); basically, the notion was that a “boy” would spot a “girl” and – upon first glance – fall immediately “in love” (like “I’m going to marry her style”) and then he would harass/stalk her until she magically fell in love with him. INDIAN DUDES PRESENT DAY still BELIEVE THIS SHIT. They believe that they can fall in love at first glance and that the person they now desire is “theirs,” and some even go as far as to throw acid in girls’ faces when rejected because they feel this deep entitlement to the object of their desire. That garbage is not romantic; it is harmful and dysfunctional and perpetuates all kinds of fucked up shit

4) Preeti is a painfully naive girl who has no life experience, has never been liked by a dude, and has likely never liked a dude either; however, she reflects a very typical desi girl beginning college: innocent and unknowing; I have no issues with her until later.  Because of the school hierarchy in which Kabir Singh is some kind of demigod who is both admired and feared by all, he can walk in and out of classes like he owns the school and direct students at his whim, so he basically makes Preeti fall in love with him by commanding her to leave her college classes. & it is simply being wanted and “chosen” by Kabir that makes Preeti fall in love; again, there is nothing else revealed about him as a person except that he is obsessive, possessive, and controlling. (NEWS FLASH LADIES WHO THINK OTHERWISE: THAT IS NOT LOVE).

5) I’m not sure if we are supposed to find all of his “special attention,” focus, and obsession to be romantic, but it isn’t. It is disturbing and appalling, and what is even more disturbing and appalling is that all of Kabir’s friends are so oddly devoted to and in love with him that none of them ever thinks, “Oh, hell no. This person is so effed and not a good person, so I’m out.” Instead, when he is about to beat a person (perhaps to their death), his friends help out. 6) Ragging (hazing) culture is portrayed as some kind of normal, and we are supposed to find it “sweet” that Kabir saves Preeti from being hazed as a “fresher” (freshman). Ermm… no, it would have been sweet if Kabir had some kind of moral compass, understood that hazing was a shit (& illegal thing to do), and tried to spare everyone, but Kabir Singh is a garbage human with no redeeming qualities.

7) Kabir Singh does not evolve at all as a person, because – even though he admits to DOING ALL OF HIS SURGERIES DRUNK & ON COCAINE and gets granted a free vacay by daddy – he is fundamentally the same exact person, and we see that when he sees Preeti sitting in the park. Here is the opportunity for the filmmakers to show Kabir reflect on all of his actions and wrongdoing and have some moment of reckoning and deep regret and remorse, but NOPE. He sits with his homies and once again proclaims that (now married and pregnant Preeti) is still his.

8)  Dumb AF Preeti – in spite of ALL THE TORTURE and hell she was put through – takes him back with zero real consequences. Her biggest question to Kabir was “how did he live without her for so long?” (****aweeeee, NO. NO. NO.**** she left her husband after 3 days and proclaims that she “never let him touch her” which means the baby is Kabir’s), and I think we’re supposed to find this so romantic, but they are both just crazy a$$ ego-maniacs who could have both put each other out of their respective misery (& US out of OURS) SO. MUCH. SOONER. 8) Oh, & I forgot to mention that Kabir HITS Preeti, chases down his maid to beat her, and almost rapes a woman (who he pulled out a knife on when she wouldn’t take off her clothes and satisfy him).

All that being said, the movie, itself, just effing SUCKED. I have watched many movies that have disturbed me – to my core – about human behavior or that did not have an ending that I wanted (Like “Water”), but there was some kind of character development, story, and plot. Even if there have been problematic characters like Sanjay Dutt in Khalnayak or Vaastav or Amitabh Bachan in the Sarkar films (I mean, even if he does good, he’s still a criminal), the film makes us fall in love with these characters and reconcile their problems while being able to understand why they are adored and loved.

NONE of these things were present in “Kabir Singh.” Legit, beyond the first hour of him “procuring Preeti as his,” (again, NOTHING romantic, endearing, or charming about how that all happened), the rest of the film is just 2 hours of him drinking himself into multiple comas over his “loss” of Preeti (which he is the absolute cause of, because – for supposedly being as “smart” as he was – he was a big fat dumba$$ for thinking that the way you “get permission” to marry a girl is by being an arrogant AF asshole to her dad). I am not a callous person and get sentimental & emo rather easily, but I did not have a single feeling in that film (other than annoyance for my time being wasted), and I cannot tell you how many times I wanted him to fall off the balcony, get hit by a truck, or just not wake-up. There was also some weird obsession by the film’s creators with Kabir’s DICK. I kid you not… from the ice on DICK scene… to the URINATING ON SELF scene… to the random AF shaving of crotch while high AF and cutting himself scene, I kept thinking “WHYYYYY??? Are we supposed to find this hot or sexy or funny?” because it wasn’t. It was disturbing, vile, and torturous. Legit, I have never checked my phone more to check the time (the first time, I nearly died when realizing TWO WHOLE HOURS were left) wanting it to just be over. 

I’m certain that nothing I’m saying hasn’t already been said in the wake of this horrific film, but I hope that the creators of the film and actors are being socially responsible and post-film DISCLAIMERING THE F*CK out of the garbage they just put out there and that some sad people will inevitably think depicted something endearing, positive, or “cool” because of the stupid AF “happy ending” where the 2 randomly bump into one another, get married, everyone’s families are like “let’s just pretend none of  that happened,” and they live happily ever after. 

Anywho, that is all from me.  those of you who have seen it or those who have decided not to see it based on what they heard, I would love to hear your thoughts over on my #KabirSinghWasGarbage post on my Smita Shares page.

Thanks always for stopping by,

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BrainTap’s Profound Impact On My Life

If you landed here from my plentiful “zencrack” posts, zencrack is what I call a wellness device that affects one’s deep subconscious (I describe it as equal parts meditation, therapy/coaching, and hypnosis) and that I have been using now for 4 years actually called Braintap. Before rushing to the corporate website – where no added savings/trials exist – I encourage you to read the below.

** NOTE: The Link to getting a 45-day trial ($45 value) of the all-inclusive Wellness Collection Bundle for $1 (offered by me exclusively & not available via the company’s site where you can only get a free trial to a few starter sessions) is at the bottom of this post (scroll until you see the banners).

If you are ready to “just start” with the headset – in my experience, there is absolutely a huge difference versus headphones – while I have included a link for you to get started right away at $100 savings through me versus buying retail (BrainTap offers worldwide shipping), let’s connect as there are other options (like Power User Access which gets you sessions far beyond the wellness bundle) and we can make sure you are starting with the best one that works for you/your family’s needs ** 

Important: YOU WANT TO DO ALL YOUR SIGNING UP FOR ANYTHING/EVERYTHING VIA THE LINKS BELOW & A WEB BROWSER. Not via the app which will put you into Android/Apple’s world where you will not be able to get the same level of support or the same offers. So, always, links –> browser –> sign up –> then login to your app with your credentials. 

On that note, folks may be landing here after having watched my video where I – in great detail – shared about my personal experience with BrainTap (BT). If so, awesome! Please scroll below for the “before and after” pictures of my “brain biometrics” of my very first BrainTap session.

However, I understand that the video was longer than most of my shares, so I will recap the key points of my experience, give you the highlights of the science behind BT, and let you know the ways in which I can personally support have the best experience possible should you be interested in trying BrainTap yourself.

First, as mentioned in my video, in order to spare you from places selling knock-off/counterfeit devices or old technology that is no longer covered by the company’s warranty, please only use the links that I have included that take you direct to BrainTap’s site (along with to the special offers I can offer you as an affiliate and are not available from the company).

That being said, there are many ways in which I can support you one-on-one (please feel free to message me on Facebook on my personal profile – I check my “Other” folder in case we aren’t connected – or, email to braintapwellness[at]gmail[dot]com):

  1. Learn what you wish to experience/how you want to benefit (for me, it was brain clarity/focus/making forward movement on some goals)
  2. Offer free trials
  3. Provide workarounds to the cost. As I say in the video, of all the things I have done in the category of self-care and for my mental health – both pre-trauma (“the events of 2012 where a brief 3-month dating relationship ended in me being a domestic violence survivor) and post-trauma, this ONE THING has, for me personally, paid for itself a million times over. It’s VALUE – in the profound impact on my life – is priceless to me. I explain this in great detail in the video, but one session with a psychiatrist (out of pocket during my life’s darkest time) cost $400, and ONE session of BrainTap cost me $60 for 20 minutes, so you can do the math on how quickly you can get your money’s worth
  4. Enable a bonus feature to those who get the headset.

I’m going to start with how I even learned about it. The short of it is as follows.  In 2012, I became something I never expected to become: a domestic violence survivor in a brief, 3-month dating relationship with no love on the table in which I was held hostage, suffocated with a body pillow, filed an order of protection, found out he had an existing OOP on record from another woman one year prior, spent 7 months & $30,000 in court with a 3″ binder only to lose my case with the same female judge in the first case, and lost nearly all of my friends and was persecuted by my community for speaking out about what happened to me).

To say my life was turned on its head would have been an egregious understatement. That trauma resulted in 4 years of extreme PTSD and depression, gaining 40 lbs, and closing my eyes while driving on empty highways as I was so disconnected from feeling human and indifferent towards my being here. As much as I would begin to feel better (or seem/appear better), any stressor could annihilate any semblance of a foundation from underneath me and my entire world would crumble and I would spiral into chaos and distress.

Accordingly, in July of 2018, after experiencing a year full of an incredibly toxic and dysfunctional work environment, I became so overwhelmed by all of it, that I (not feeling equipped to handle it and having a personality that was then based deeply in numbing or running away my feelings), unfortunately, felt I needed to escape, so I booked a 4-week stay at a fitness resort in Utah. I honestly felt like I had wasted a TON of money being there and had made a really poor life choice until I stumbled upon (what I call) #ZenCrack and also known as BrainTap.

Basically, I saw a brochure and it piqued my curiosity, so I signed up for a “session” not even really sure what it really was, but I am very self-aware and know that ALL of our issues in how we experience life – so my feeling so overwhelmed and stressed – are rooted in our minds; as I say often, I fully own that I am both the problem and the solution. At the start of the sessions, I was hooked up to a $4,000 machine that basically did a scan of my biometrics (images below), and then I began the 20-minute session. Immediately after, I felt so next level zen and as if I had experienced the most deeply relaxing massage of my life, and the scans correlated that feeling.

On that note, what is BrainTap?? “BrainTap is a powerfully effective tool designed to help people achieve balanced brainwave states that enhances the production of all the necessary neurotransmitters needed for optimal function of body and mind. Backed by neuroscience and research, BrainTapping is proven to help people who experience high stress, difficulty sleeping, low energy, and other lifestyle challenges.

This exclusive, copyrighted technology has been extensively tested to create the perfect symmetry of sound, music, and spoken word for the ultimate in brainwave training and relaxation, providing your mind and body with all the benefits of meditation without the disciplined effort.

Unlike meditation apps, BrainTap’s neuro-algorithm produces brainwave entrainment — the synchronization of brainwaves to a specialized sound — with no user effort. The result of which is full-spectrum brainwave activity. Using this matrix of neuro-activity, each of BrainTap’s sessions is encoded differently to ensure maximum neuroplasticity — the brain’s ability to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections, resulting in a flexible and resilient brain.

BrainTapping guides your mind from an awake, reactionary mind into an intuitive, creative state, then to a place where super-learning and healing can occur, with the outcome being a heightened state of consciousness with crystal clear focus.

In addition to the sonic effects of BrainTapping, the BrainTap headset delivers gentle light pulses that travel through the retina and ear meridians, sending direct signals to the brain and guiding you into unparalleled brain states. (Note from me: I have tried doing the sessions both ways – with my own headphones and versus the headset – and there is an absolute difference).

Pulsing light, in the correct pattern and intensity, can produce levels of deep relaxation known to affect serotonin and endorphin levels, with an average increase of 21 percent in one study. These increases not only can calm and relax the mind but also produce powerful effects in maintaining a positive outlook and optimistic thinking.”

K, that’s really the most important stuff. You can check out everything else by visiting the links below (again, not available via the direct BrainTap site nor is any personal support/guidance), and be sure to get your free 15-day trial and turn it into a 45-DAY TRIAL for just $1!

Thanks for reading and here’s to hoping BrainTap becomes a VERB that helps powerfully change people’s lives!

Love & light always,

 

 

 

 

15-DAY FREE TRIAL with the option to get an EXTRA 30 DAYS FOR $1! (That is 45 days, which is a $45 value, for ONE DOLLAR). This is the ideal way to experience the audio sessions of the ENTIRE WELLNESS COLLECTION!  Reminder: Sign up using the below banner via a browser (versus the app) to get the below offers and – for those of you who get the headset – I can turn on a superuser feature for you if you have signed up this way. Note: If you do not cancel, you will get automatically enrolled in the Wellness Bundle for $30/month)

Headset with $100 savings, click here

 

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Favorite Things

My Portable Laptop (“Standing Desk”) Stand

This post was first written in May & shared with folks in South Carolina (when I visited my bestie for 6 weeks and was working remotely from #allthecoffeeshops) who kept asking me about my desk. This post was then edited in September after sharing to my entire network so the items – including the amazing umbrella light and my fave citronella candles – from the featured photo have been all been added below!

Hi everyone!

Hope you had a wonderful weekend! I’m writing this post with a quickness, because – in the past week, while working from a cafe in Orangeburg, SC – 6 people have come up to me asking me about my portable laptop desk stand that I bought in 2017.

Of all the things that I have ever purchased (SO. MANY. THINGS.) this is one of my absolute favorite and most used. To me, the benefits were just intuitive – knowing that the average American adult sits 6.5 hours per day – but I was pleased to know the following summarized from this Healthline article.

  1. Standing lowers your risk of weight gain and obesity.
  2. Using a standing desk may lower blood sugar levels.
  3. Standing may lower risk of heart disease.
  4. Standing desks appear to reduce back pain.
  5. Standing desks help improve mood and energy levels.
  6. Standing desks may improve productivity.
  7. Standing more may help you live longer.

While I can’t speak to #7, I have absolutely experienced #s 1-6, and I have been so thrilled with my experience of my standing desk that I have traveled with it in my suitcase for extended travel and always roll with it in my car – whether it is heading to Broisha’s place or South Carolina. I, legit, don’t know how to work sitting down anymore; it just feels so awkward to me. So much so that this reflection and post are inspiring me to buy a second desk stand just so that I don’t have to fold up the one I use at my home office. We’ll see. I may be being extra which is highly likely and having 2 desk stands really doesn’t align with my de-cluttering/aspiring towards minimalism (where I can, within reason) life plan.

Anywho, the two that I recommend and that friends of mine have purchased (the original model that I purchased has since been retired, so these are new and better-made iterations of the same design) is right below, and I have also included links to some other popular designs.

My ask to anyone reading this who may feel so inclined to get a desk stand is to please kindly click on the link below, so that I may be able to share more things that I love in an effort to help make all of our (collective) lives better.

DESK OPTIONS 1 & 2:

Saiji Portable Laptop Stand, $35.99


Kavalan (2 sizes, multiple colors) Portable Laptop Table, $44.99 ($39.99 for smaller size)

Additional set-up (from pic below) items right under image:

Please always keep in mind that Amazon offers a 30-day return policy on most items (review return policy for individual items before purchasing), and I highly encourage returning things that do not work for you (even if you need to pay to ship them back – although I noticed I don’t have to do that anymore with Kohls’ drop off – as that is better than collecting junk and adding to clutter).

As always, if something I shared benefits your life in some way, I would love to hear about it, but – more importantly – please share it with your friends and family in an effort to help them too. In my opinion, sharing the small things that make our lives better and “paying it forward” (whatever “it” may be) is a huge part of changing the world.

Until next time, love and light,

 

 

 

 

 

* Disclosure: Smita Shares is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon properties.  Amazon, in turn, offers a small commission on products sold through their affiliate links. Each of your purchases via our Amazon affiliation links supports my being able to share the things I love (& genuinely personally use and recommend to friends and family) at no additional cost to you. 

What about sponsored content? 
I do not write sponsored posts.  I want to bring you real, unbiased information.  However, if a post is sponsored by a company, I will disclose this clearly in the beginning of the post. 

As for my social media pages where I use Amazon & other affiliate links for product recommendations, I will include a link to this post, or put “(affiliate link)”, or #ad in the post. 

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General

The Disclaimer of ALL Disclaimers

For those of you who have known me over the years, you know that I am the “queen of disclaimers,” and I always say that they are #nevernotnecessary, because, thus far, they have never proven not to be. There is, legit, never NOT someone who lacks a sense of humor/does not understand sarcasm and, therefore, cannot take a joke and takes everything literally thereby resulting in next level butt hurtedness (*real phrase* – just go with it). There is also never NOT someone who does not understand that what I share is simply my OP-IN-I-ON and that I am not remotely suggesting that I am “right” or that they are “wrong” simply because we view things differently (the number of people who want to #comeatme on the regular is truly remarkable and, sometimes, alarming while always being amusing); rest assured that asserting my opinion in a confident manner (read: as if it was the truth) does not make it the truth. Finally, there is never NOT someone who does not interpret my having the gall to express myself unapologetically as my thinking that I am “better than” or “think I know better than” or some other effery.

*News Flash* I do not think I am better than anyone and, for reals, I do not know shit. I feel rather lost on most days and am just trying to figure out this whole life thing as (I believe) most people are; however, contrary to many, I actually share my struggles and not just my highlights reel as I no longer have any effs to give about what other people think and, accordingly, choose to live a self-expressed life. For me, “sharing” is not something I simply “enjoy” doing nor do I share to “get” something, but it is who I AM and what I believe is my higher purpose/calling in life, and my desire – more like compulsion – to share comes from having made a million and four mistakes. Maybe a million and five. I dunno, but A LOT, so I “overshare” as I do simply because my life’s greatest desire is that as many people as possible – particularly young people – be spared from making the same mistakes I did, and, even if they do make them, that those mistakes are understood to be lessons to learn from rather than experiences that derail their lives entirely as they did mine (on more than one occasion, because I used to make the same mistake at least thrice for good measure). *Judges self but quickly forgives for doing the best I could with my level of consciousness at that time*

Anywho… so, the “disclaimer of all disclaimers” includes all of the above and also includes the following which is that there is really very little unique thought left in this world in spite of nearly everyone out there (self-help/development peeps, “gurus” of whatever, coaches of every variety, etc) pretending that they are coming up with “novel” thoughts all the time when, in fact, they are simply thoughts that have been repurposed, repackaged, and repositioned to be sold as “novel” and “life-changing.” Keyword: SOLD, and I will rant about this more in a future post.

For now, please know this: I am – as you are – the sum total of all of my life’s experiences and all of the things I have ever read, watched, and heard before. Where I absolutely know that a notion is someone else’s (who I can attribute to as such), I will do so as I cannot stand people who portray ideas/thoughts/concepts as their own that aren’t which is practically every person on the interwebs nowadays. That being said, there are things in life that I never heard of before and that simply came from a feeling in my heart – for example, how much women overly apologize – and I expressed these thoughts well before I had ever heard anyone else express them and waaaaay before anyone ever wrote any book about “stopping to apologize.” (*rolls eyes* CAN’T STAND HER, but I digress). Therefore, you’ll have to forgive me if I say something that has been said a million times before; it is 10000% sure going to happen as we – as humans – often have common experiences/learnings/viewpoints/lenses.

To continue with the disclaimers, here’s a biggie… I love to curse. This is always an interesting disclaimer, because I know that there are “holier than thou” types who would “like me so much more” (like, people have told me this) if I “didn’t use *foul* language,” but what is funny to me about that is that my language says absolutely nothing about my character, values, or fundamental goodness. What is extra funny is that – while you are thinking someone else may be “good” because of how they speak sans curse words – I can assure you that, unlike that seemingly perfect and proper person, this rough-around-the-edges-unpolished-loves-to-drop-an-F-bomb human would stand for and with you in your life’s most trying times no matter the cost or risk to me. If you can say that in full confidence about those who don’t offend your senses as I do, awesome, but I am done “toning myself down” or dampening who I am authentically to be more broadly pleasing.

Instead, I revel in being narrowly pleasing and forever polarizing. While most people aspire to be liked by the masses (to be able to ultimately, at the root of nearly everything, “sell” to the largest audience) I want to be liked by my people… my like-minded and similar-valued tribe and divergents of this world who have already filtered themselves from the masses and emerged in my life and will continue to do so. I refuse to spend my one and only life aiming to be pleasing or worrying about being liked as I already wasted so much of it doing exactly that. Hate me? Good. That means I’ve pushed your buttons and challenged your thinking. Indifferent or TBD? Awesome, and I appreciate you sticking around to decide. Love me? Thank you, and I will never be able to fully express the depths of my gratitude to those who make me feel seen, heard, and known.

One last thing… Actually, two. I write as I speak, so if you are a “grammar nazi” or feel that I am adulterating the English language, I AM as I have made up my own way of speaking and writing. To me, creative writing is just like art, and there is no one way to do it; I am not looking to be known as a “literary genius” (ermm… because I am the fuuuuurthest thing from one), so #sorrynotsorry if you can’t stand my “style” of writing. I am simply not for you, and that is okay.

& now the actual last thing… my greatest joy in writing has been the conversations that emerge and community that is grown, so please – whether it be on my posts or in private messages – always feel free to reach out. Maybe you’re not there yet in being able to share your personal truth publicly and perhaps you might not ever be, but, sometimes, just saying it aloud to someone knowing that you won’t be judged can be incredibly healing, and there has been nothing more rewarding and meaningful to me than those who trust me to be that person.

K, I think that is enough disclaimers for now, so, on that note… I am stepping into “Smita Shares” (let’s stay connected below!) fully with purpose, passion, and conviction, and I am so deeply honored by and grateful for whoever bears witness to me finally doing the thing that I was always meant to do “when I grew up.”

With love,

 

 

 

Stay connected by liking Smita Shares or following me on my personal page (I’m sorry that I cannot become friends with everyone up front, and I’m not saying that it won’t ever happen, but I just require us to connect on a personal level before it does and hope you’d want the same)

 

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At Peace In The Chaos That Is India

I have been back to the States for 25 days. 25 loooong days. Whereas 2 months flew by at lightning speed in India and felt far too short, every day back in America has felt like a week, and I knew that this was exactly how it would feel as I recalled how every return back from India before this one has felt. Accordingly, although I was so thrilled to be reunited with my beloved dad at the airport, I cried for a good chunk of the ride back home looking out and seeing a completely pristine and unicolor landscape (gray concrete buildings everywhere) that felt murderous to my soul. Dramatic, I know, but I don’t know how else to describe it as I tried stifling my tears as I basically choked on them hoping not to cause my dad any distress. Naturally, the tears and my perception of time both say a lot about how India feels to me and how I, most importantly, feel in India.

In addition to my last post in which I talked about the possibilities (relationship and professional) that I explored in my second month and am still exploring remotely, I have been in continued reflection and introspection about my Motherland feels, and I have landed on the following…

I love the chaos… Everywhere that my hyper-privileged self has ever lived or visited in America feels far too orderly, logical, and perfect, and one would think that these would be good and much-desired things (especially considering that it is this exact life that my parents sought over 40 years when they left India forever seeking a “better life” in America), but, for me personally, they have always made me uneasy and felt stifling. I do not know if it is the expectation that I am supposed to want to be a part of and, accordingly, fit into/live up to this perfection – which I do not aspire towards – that has tormented me or that, in this perceived perfection (fully knowing many lives of quiet suffering lie beneath outward “perfect” appearances), I have always felt like an outsider and that who I really am is dulled and diminished in comparison to how I feel when I am in India. Which is as if I belong. Everyone and everything is “mine/my own.” Joyful and at peace.

What is so interesting about this recent trip is that friends who have known me in person/virtually (many of whom are no less “real friends” to me in every way) observed this marked difference. Through what I shared via photos, posts, and stories, they said things like: “We’ve never seen you happier” or “more vibrant” and “alive” as well as “we’ve seen you happy at home with your family, but this is different.” It is absolutely different and always has been; every trip to India since I was little has felt like “this is home” and being born and raised in America has always felt like a “mis-janam” (mis-birth).

This most recent trip reminded me of all of this in very powerful and profound ways, and I fully internalized that – other than my attachment to my family (totally unhealthy when it comes to my parents in that I feel selfish for when considering moving and they have often tried to emotionally manipulate me to stay close to them and make me feel guilty for wanting to leave even though they know that I despise the DC area) – there is no reason I should not go and see what is possible in India. Whether it is living there for 6 months and being back in the States for 6, continuing to be open to relationship prospects (interestingly, after 2 years of not being open to dating before India, I resumed my “not interested” status now that I’m back), and/or exploring various pursuits (professional, business, & making an impact), I am down for any and all of it.

& yes, sure, I feel so guilty, awful, and selfish considering leaving my parents and family in general (as they are all in this area), but my bigger fear is – as I already have considering that I (as someone who loves people & is social by nature) do absolutely nothing here – making them my whole life and then, one day, when one parent passes, never leaving home and making the other parent my entire life, and, ultimately, having no life of my own once that second parent passes. That being said, my parents did the same 40+ years ago… they left their families and everything they knew in pursuit of what felt better for them, so I’m embarking on a similar journey. Just in reverse.

Oh, and one last thing… Because I know these people are out there, yes, I absolutely know that I have only really “done India” as a guest, which is a very different experience and largely contributes to how I feel there, but I feel that I owe it to myself to explore it nonetheless.

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Favorite Things

Obsessed with this Scale (but not my weight!)

** REVISED: 8/19/19 with new images from my scale of choice below ** 

TL;DR: Scroll right to the bottom for images from and a link to the scale.  If, however, you are down to read the backstory about how I “blessed and released” my once-upon-a-time obsession with my weight, here you go:

So, real talk. I honestly hesitated in sharing a scale – one that measures a person’s WEIGHT – as a “favorite thing,” but I landed on feeling comfie doing so, because of my own personal hugely transformational change in perspective about a number that haunted me for more than 20 years of my one and only precious life.

Here’s the Cliff Notes summary of my former dysfunction around weight (please know that – if this is you presently – I greatly empathize, I get it more than you will ever know, and I know there is a way to not feel as you do, because I am no longer plagued by that which used to be so burdensome to my existence):

Basically, I was a “skinny” (I loathe these words now) kid. I ate a large NY style pizza by myself in one sitting at age 8 and weighing in at a whopping 45 lbs, and no one even blinked an eye or find that remotely alarming. I could eat exorbitant amounts of food (the jokes were “she has an extra stomach” and “she has tapeworm”), and – like so many people – I was an emotional eater (still am and still working on it) who ate whatever I wanted because I didn’t gain weight and everyone wrongfully thought “skinny = healthy”. Every. Emotion: happy, sad, bored, lonely, and everything in between. Then, between ages 11 and 12, I had a growth spurt and gained 7′ and 30 lbs, which was nothing short of devastating because – even at this young age – I had deeply internalized that my being “tiny” and “skinny” was highly valued  and something that the whole of the female population aspired towards (other girls my age talked about it all the time as something they admired/envied/wished they were). Therefore, “gaining 30 lbs” – read as: GROWING NORMALLY AS CHILDREN DO – meant that I was now “fat” in spite of still only being 90 lbs at 5’4″. I mean, obvs. *Rolls eyes and then proceeds to weep for me of back then and wishes she had present day me to guide her*

It was at 16 (the photo right above is of me at my Sweet 16) that I would – after years of subscribing to YM and Seventeen Magazines which forever offered “8 tips and tricks to a bikini body” (oddly, I never wanted to actually wear a bikini but I desired a bod that – in my mind – had the *right* to wear one) – kick off my very first diet and would continue with the yo-yo dieting roller coaster ride for the next 20 years. How loathsome I was towards my body – always deeming it unworthy and deeply flawed – will forever break my heart, which is why it is a primary life purpose/mission of mine to make sure that as many women are freed from this vicious cycle of self-loathing based on an arbitrary and (for the most part) meaningless number on a scale that says nothing more than your gravitational pull towards the Earth and nothing about your worth and value. Most of all, I wish to spare as many young women – like my beloved niece – from ever having to embark on this path.

It is too long of a story to explain everything including dieting for perpetuity, my life trauma as a domestic violence survivor in a brief 3-month-dating-no-love-on-the-table relationship with a psychopath (“the events of 2012” which caused me to gain 40 lbs in 2 years), the complete disconnection from myself (as in my existence) in the aftermath, and then, finally, embarking on a path of healing, visiting a fitness resort, later working at that resort and hosting 2 lectures there, and where I have landed now which is: complete comfort with the number on the scale. At my current weight, I am 52 lbs heavier than my high school weight (that photo above is what I aspired towards – stuck it onto my mirror and errthing – all through my 20s and early 30s thinking I need to “get back to” that # on the scale and size), and that causes me no feelings whatsoever.

That being said, as someone who has family history of all kinds of health stuff, I finally have internalized that it isn’t the # on the scale that matters but my actual health and wellness (which really wasn’t on point simply because I was “skinny” back when I was eating trays of brownies, large NY style pizzas, and beating football players in eating contests). Accordingly, I love this Redover Scale, because it gives insight on so much more than just weight and measures things that are more reflective of one’s actual health (while, I must insist, these metrics still do not saying anything about a person’s worth and value nor do they speak to whole health & wellness. Mmkay, don’t get it twisted)

For example, the scale covers all of the below metrics and allows a person to track trends in things like % body fat, skeletal muscle, % water, or visceral vs. subcutaneous fat. Important notes: 1) One can have fat, but cannot be fat (you cannot be a molecule), so stop claiming that as your false identity, 2) Fat is okay – in fact, important – to have so don’t beat yourself up for the “having of it”; it is not a character defect (remember: As they say “You are not fat; instead, you HAVE fat. Just like you have toes, but are not toes.”), 3) I ignore BMI entirely as there are people who are tremendously fit and lean with high muscle mass (I am not one of them) who are deemed obese by this wonky measure, & 4) Y’all can think whatever about any of my #s; I, legit, don’t care and the fact that I’m sharing this with you speaks to my freedom from my weight-obsessed dysfunction*.

* If I am so “free,” you may wonder why I weigh myself at all &, for example, during these last 2 weeks, a total of 3 times. Here are several reasons: 1) I share naturally-derived wellness products (that are supposed to support health & not be a substitute/crutch for it) so – if I begin using something – I like to see what, if any, impact the product has. Similarly, I like to see how circumstances make an impact (for example, traveling in India for 2 months and eating #allthethings) 2) I began Intermittent Fasting (more on my experience with it later) in October through January 1st (full stop in India), and I believe IF has contributed the most to any improvement in my overall health more than any products; however, I do believe the products supported my efforts (that I made in the first place because I’m trying to stave off ever developing diabetes).

Re: Point # 1, if you are curious about what I was using during the below (between 10/3 to 1/1, then 1/1 to 3/2 while I was in India eating massive amounts of carbs and hardly any protein, see this blog post (but PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMERS!)

Redover Scale

Date Range: 10/3 – 8/19

On that note, thanks for stopping by and would love to hear if you end up getting the scale or the supplements and how you like them! Oh, and please be sure to follow me on my Facebook and Instagram to stay connected!

Connect soon,

 

 

 

 

* Disclosure: Smita Shares is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon properties.  Amazon, in turn, offers a small commission on products sold through their affiliate links. Each of your purchases via our Amazon affiliation links supports my being able to share the things I love (& genuinely personally use and recommend to friends and family) at no additional cost to you. 

What about sponsored content? 
I do not write sponsored posts.  I want to bring you real, unbiased information.  However, if a post is sponsored by a company, I will disclose this clearly in the beginning of the post. 

As for my social media pages where I use Amazon & other affiliate links for product recommendations, I will include a link to this post, or put “(affiliate link)”, or #ad in the post. 

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India

My Decision To Explore Possibilities in India

What is funny is that most people who read the title of this blog are immediately thinking of romantic/dating/marriage possibilities, because we think that “that’s the thing,” but that is not the thing. Not remotely. Not for me. I’m the “thing.”

That is so not the thing that – for the past 2 years – I have not been on any dating apps/sites nor gone on a single date or even flirted a man with the thought, “I would like to get to know you,” and no part of me felt alone or as if I was missing anything. There were zero feelings of “needing” or “wanting” a man in my life, and what is so interesting is how phenomenally bizarre people found this to be as if being okay with *just* oneself and not seeking anyone to “add to” my life or “complete” it was so weird. & here is the thing… I lived my life from this place for a long time… about 20 years as I had been so deeply programmed to believe that my life required a “life partner” – that, somehow, my lifelong insecurities could be negated and my self-worth could be validated by the addition of a man wanting me for the duration of his whole life – and marriage and kids (read: a linear life that looked like – & I am not judging or hating here because #toeachtheirown – most others’ linear lives).

Note: I am truly not judging, but I also believe that so many people are living their current lives – ones that they very well may even derive extreme joy and satisfaction from (but I know so many who are not and are, instead, living lives of quiet misery) – because of “what most people do”/”what is expected”/fear/lack/pressure/not ever being informed that they even had a choice…); that last one absolutely kills me… Lord, if only I had me of now to advise and inform me of back then, me of now would be living a very different life… one where I did not define both my worthiness and measure of life satisfaction by sizing my life up against that of others (re: my career, the “outcomes/results/success” of my life, relationships, appearance and more) and, so unfortunately, seeking  – & therefore, perpetually feeling a lack for not having – partnership-with-the-intent-of-marriage which was something that I had so deeply internalized that I had to have.

& I am sorry, but – if you get married or are married – while I am, 100%, so happy for you in earnest, you have not succeeded at nor have you accomplished anything. If this offends you, I challenge you to ask yourself why. I mean, sure, you get congratulated at this “milestone” on your big day (& I, too, will gush and congratulate you, because I love LOVE & #romanceerrthing is my personal jam), but WHAT HAVE YOU ACTUALLY DONE? & that, too, what have you done that makes so many married folks believe that they are better than “still singles.” I mean… you have not arbitrarily crossed some threshold of being a better person, contributing more to society, or leaving a meaningful legacy (simply having children, by default, does not mean this is taking place); you literally just signed up to “do life” with someone and that is awesome and all, but, still, it is not an accomplishment.

Anywho, I just had to get that off of my chest, because I cannot tell you the number of extremely trifling people who have said stuff to me like, “Are you dating anyone? Why haven’t you gotten married yet? Don’t you want to get married? You didn’t find anyone? You must be really picky.” First off, good-sense-incompetents, why is ANY OF THIS YOUR BUSINESS? & that, too, when we (98% of the time) have no personal or meaningful connection otherwise. Like… for example, when you see that completely random family friend or Auntie at a party after 5 years and that is the first thing they say, and these same people – when you were actually “looking” through most of your 20s and early 30s – did not once think of you, reach out, or even lie and say that they would think of someone for you (as happens in India by everyone who knows you exist as soon as you have either crossed an age/education/career threshold).

All that being said, I have greatly digressed, so… back to “the possibilities I’m exploring in India.” Yes, I am open to exploring relationship possibilities here (more on that later), but the main thing I am exploring is my personal joy/satisfaction/fulfillment/feeling that I am making an impact. This is 100% about ME and – should a meaningful connection happen with someone – I am open to exploring that, but that is NOT why I am here. Allow me to explain… Multiple people have (& I love them for it, because they are my family and this is all coming from a place of genuine love) – from my brother to my dad to many relatives in India – emphasized the urgency of this one month (that I have extended my trip for) and that “this” (the jeevan saathi/life partner search) should be my primary pursuit. My only pursuit actually and that I “shouldn’t worry about all of this meeting of contacts/networking/professional pursuit efforts” or the paid public speaking gig I secured or anything along those lines.

To those people (& as I have already expressed my heart to them in person), while I am open to meeting someone, that is not my primary pursuit or life purpose. To clarify, yes, I am open after a long time, but that openness is not due to a feeling of lack but due to a feeling of extreme wholeness and completeness; I am, for the first time in my life, fully confident in myself in a way that only came from doing the deep work of being with myself and by myself in an effort to truly know and understand myself, all from which I realized how I am not only “enough” – an insecurity that permeated my entire existence – but I am everything and that there is nothing at all to be “completed.” Accordingly, I am not operating from scarcity/fear/lack, so I feel that I could fold someone into my life who would be an actual partner rather than something from which I would be seeking validation/affirmation/completion.

Therefore, I am pursuing my lifelong love for India first and foremost and my wish to be – even if naive to think I could – do something that makes an impact here. As many of you know, I have always felt this profoundly deep, spiritual, soulful, powerful, indescribable, and completely “illogical” (or so people say) compulsion towards and connection to the Motherland; I feel my most authentic, alive, vibrant, charming, endearing, bright, light, shiny, impactful, clear-minded, and glorious self here than anywhere else in the world and always have. & every time I have come to India and had that feeling, I felt like – along with being explicitly told “by people looking out for my best interest” – it was “just me being emotional and impractical” and I was “only saying that” and that I “couldn’t live here” and, well, you get the point. You know that feeling of exposing your heart’s deepest desires only for those who (allegedly) “just want what’s good for you” to douse all of your hopes and dreams with their practicality-filled buckets while stomping on any embers just in case you may still dare keep some hope alive…

& yes, yes… I know these people love me and actually do want the absolute best for me, but through their own lenses/experiences/measures and I have, therefore, been misunderstood by nearly all of them for nearly the entirety of my life and – for most of theirs as it relates to me – they have tried to “inspire” me to see the “right way” and do the “right things” and take the path most traveled when all I have ever wanted was to “just be me.” However, “me,” who I actually was (have always been and still am) – someone who is fundamentally divergent to my core – was not okay. As a result, I spent my entire life desperate to be told, “That’s okay… You’re okay… No, you’re amazing actually… Go live your big and amazing, one & only life, you glorious human, you,” but, instead, people felt more comfortable with me “taking the path most traveled” and stepping into their comfortable boxes with them and making a home there.  I don’t know if anyone else can relate, but it is a rather tortured life always hoping someone might understand your heart – & validate and affirm how you feel and who you are – only to realize that nearly no one does.

So that, my friends, is what this trip is about. 1) I am not seeking affirmation/validation/approval from anyone outside of myself any longer; I did that for almost FORTY YEARS, so am just done & 2) I am, therefore, also so done living by anyone’s standards or being emotionally manipulated and that, too, by my parents (I have one of their blessings #guesswhichone) who left their home in the 1970s to move across the world and speak to their parents maybe thrice a year and see them hardly ever. Note: please do not come at me suggesting that I am selfish or do not love my parents. Ermm… I love my parents more than life itself and if that is not glaringly obvious to you, you have not been paying attention or are BLIND. I mean… so much so that I would literally trade my every joy for theirs and one would hope that living with them on & off for 10.5 years in a place that pains my soul but is only made “okay” because #family (each time knowing I shouldn’t return but still coming back because of my attachment to them), spending a month preparing for their trip to India, and signing up to be with them for one month straight in India (when I could have been enjoying a one month vacay from them) would make one particular parent feel that I was devoted or cared “enough,” but, alas, none of it counts.

& while I love that parent completely, I am also done trying to be pleasing to them and am, therefore, unburdening myself from the lifelong burden placed on me to (via their impressing upon me their measure of success as defined by society’s measures of success & “log kya sochenge”/what other people think) be the thing (the story/the outcome/the result) that makes them somehow feel validated about their own life and life’s choices. That is not my job. My job is to live my best life possible just as they decided to do 40+ years ago, and that doesn’t mean “India forever;” instead, it means I am OPEN to here, because I am done ignoring how here has felt for me my whole life.

& back to the guy thing… I refuse to make that my primary pursuit. I am someone who so deeply requires my own “astitva” (identity), and I say that after being willing to blend/morph into whatever guy I was dating found most pleasing and appealing), so I am not looking for my better “half” – again, I am whole, always have been, but just had no idea and no one ever bothered to tell me – nor am I searching for companionship or “security” (I swear, it seems as if women are sold the lie their whole gdang lies that men are their primary method of security in life; I can think of nothing that undermines their worthiness or self-expression/purpose in life than such a notion, because we can give that to our own goddamn selves if only we are empowered to believe we can and that we are enough). Anything I need or want, I can give to myself, so someone must compliment my life and add to it while absolutely celebrating my need/want to do my own thing; if I met someone, they would need to see me as an equal partner with my own ambitions/wants/desire,s and they would need to honor my wanting to pursue them. Accordingly, I am making that (that which I know I can do, be, make happen, and have here all on my own) my priority and – should someone compliment that – then so be it, but I will feel no lack or disappointment if that does not happen, because that was never (& should, at no point in life, never have been) the “thing.”

Again, I’m the thing. It only took me 39 years to know it, but I am so grateful to finally know now…

Thank you for reading and with so much love,

 

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Favorite Things

Heated Shower Cap!

Hi Everyone!

I am so excited to share my first (official) “Favorite Thing!”* I feel like Oprah!

Anywho, I am going to keep this one short and simple because there really isn’t much one can say about a heated shower cap. Basicallyyyy… I recently posted the absurd photo below to my personal Facebook page talking about how I went out looking this “this” (heated shower cap, bathrobe, & no bra as an act of rebellion, which my mom – aka “Momma Moon” – was not pleased with).

Everyone was, like, “yeah, that’s cool, but tell us about this heated shower cap!” so here we are!

The cap I use is the BOMB DOT COM, and it not only feels AMAZE while using it (you just pop it in the microwave and heat to the temperature you prefer), but it also definitely makes a difference when using any kind of deep conditioner or hair masque. Click here for an Amazon link to my personal favorite heated shower cap that I have been using for over a year now, and I love to use it with this incredible (4K+ reviews averaging a 4.5 rating) Argan hair masque!

On that note, thanks for stopping by and would love to hear if you end up getting the cap and how you like it!

Connect soon,

 

 

 

 

* Disclosure: Smita Shares is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon properties.  Amazon, in turn, offers a small commission on products sold through their affiliate links. Each of your purchases via our Amazon affiliation links supports my being able to share the things I love (& genuinely personally use and recommend to friends and family) at no additional cost to you. 

What about sponsored content? 
I do not write sponsored posts.  I want to bring you real, unbiased information.  However, if a post is sponsored by a company, I will disclose this clearly in the beginning of the post. 

As for my social media pages where I use Amazon & other affiliate links for product recommendations, I will include a link to this post, or put “(affiliate link)”, or #ad in the post. 

 

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Violence Against Women

#WhyIDidntReport & #WhenIDidReport – A South Asian Perspective

Hi friends (frenemies, haters, whomever),

This was not the post that I imagined relaunching my blog with after 6-7ish years (outside of the occasional post in 2012/2013, that is how long it had been since I was last blogging regularly), but recent happenings – specifically, reading this tweet and watching this video by this wretched subhuman sociopath victim-blaming-self-proclaimed-pu$$y-grabbing MONSTER (#sorrynotsorry) and sitting on my couch drenched in tears reading hundreds of #WhyIDidntReport stories in reply – have so compelled me.

Should you wish to, you can learn more about me and my blog while I jump right into what has been on my heart, but, first, a little bit of a backstory… I am a 38-year-old South Asian woman and a domestic violence survivor; I used to say “allegedly” – and it has become such a habit of mine for 6+ years now (born out of a system that compels us to have fear over owning our own stories as true) that I may continue to do so – but I am consciously choosing not to say it for the first time today. NOT “allegedly.” It happened, and – should someone require that I prove it to them – I happily will (I still have the 3″ binder of evidence), but what I will no longer do is negate, devalue, dismiss, or delegitimize my very true and real experience that altered the trajectory of my life forever. Note: so much good has been born from so much pain, and I truly believe my life needed a trajectory change although this would not have been my preferred way for it to happen.

Please know that – while I am highlighting this as “a South Asian experience” – I know (to my complete horror) that this is largely the experience of all women; no matter what our ethnicity, race, or socio-economic background/”status,”  women have always and forever been blamed for what happens to them. Accordingly, I am simply highlighting my being South Asian so that people in my (*cough* mostly BS thing called) “community,” in particular, spend some time in deep reflection about how we are all implicitly and explicitly contributing to the unfortunate experience of so many in our community (most of whom we will never hear from or know of and understandably so in a culture that aims to inspire and motivate all behavior using guilt and shame).

So here is my #WhyIDidntReport and #WhenIDidReport. Please know that I say every word as true – not only because I can prove it – but swearing on every hair on the heads of my entire family; may I struck be dead than rather tell a lie. Please also know that I do not want any kind of “justice” of any variety; there is nothing that a court (made up of humans with personal bias galore – think Brock Turner and his 6 months in jail for raping an unconscious woman or Justin Schneider who choked, threatened to kill and masturbated on a woman but saw no jail time) or any human could give me all these years later, so I do not seek or need it. I know the truth, and I am perfectly fine.

So, here we go… After I, as a 5’4″ and then 118 lb woman, was held hostage and suffocated with a body pillow by a 6′ foot (and probably close to 200 lbs) athlete, and was finally able to get out of his apartment. Note: because people seem to have a desperation to know – as if one trauma is somehow worse or “better” than another because #traumacomparingandqualifying is a real thing – I was not sexually assaulted. On that note, “Why I did not report…”

  • Because I was in complete shock. So many people who hear stories of women being assaulted/attacked obnoxiously and quite disgustingly (as they lack all empathy) believe that they would have acted differently or the “correct way” by any of the following:  1) “Not letting it happen” to them in the first place (such an egregiously offensive thing to say), but – should it have happened – they would have channeled their inner Katniss or Buffy the Vampire Slayer and have fended off an attack & kicked some serious a$$ * insert all the eye rolls * 2) If not able to fend off the attack (after fully giving it their level best), they would act with complete lucidity as to what steps to take in the aftermath including things (let us say, for example, for rape survivors just having experienced “completed rape”) like – instead of wanting to go to a place they feel is safe and showering off their attacker(s) – they would go straight to the police to begin the process of “justice.” THESE PEOPLE HAVE NOT LIVED THROUGH AND DON’T KNOW ISH. Quite frankly, I think they are ish too, but that is just my humble and quite possibly biased opinion.
    • Yours truly could not remotely wrap my brain around what had just happened nor did I want to. I wanted to pretend it did not happen at all by compartmentalizing, reconciling, and tucking it forever away while never telling a soul. More than anything, I wanted to be gone. From where he was – not just his being in my immediate physical proximity – but I did not want to be in the same state as him, so I urgently and desperately wanted to flee to the only place I knew I could feel safe (my parents’ home).
    • Furthermore, logically speaking, there is nothing in our human biology that is programmed for “call the police” or “take the correct action steps (in order to get justice)” during or post-TRAUMA. THAT. IS. NOT. A. THING. The human body is hardwired to PROTECT itself – Run. Flee. Escape. Hide. Disappear. THAT is what our biologies are programmed for instinctively, so why then are people so SHOCKED that women do not rush to call the police when they anticipate doing so as just more trauma?
  • Because I did not want to. Bear with me. This really was not a conscious decision of any kind. That day that I “got out” of his apartment (but was still in his company, #verylongstory), I threatened to call the police at one point only as a tool to motivate him to bring down the belongings he made me leave upstairs (my ID, apartment keys, etc. which I needed to be able to fly home). However, I honestly had no wish or intention to call the police, because, uh-freaking-gain, I had no desire for anyone to know ever. You know the fear that any woman would feel re: the impact of reporting on her life? Well, take that times one thousand as a South Asian woman. Here are the things I considered (although, again, hardly on any kind of conscious or logical level) as millions of thoughts crossed my HAD-JUST-BEEN-HELD-HOSTAGE-AND-SUFFOCATED-WITH-A-BODY-PILLOW mind, and here is some of what crossed it:
    • My family – Knowing what I endured would cause them great suffering, and I cannot explain to you what I would do (even now) to go back in time and do ANYTHING in exchange for them never having to know. My parents lost years off of their lives because of what I endured, and my dad died a million deaths every day as he watched his beloved daughter – his whole LIFE – slip away before his eyes for 4+ years in the aftermath. This was a message he sent me six years after what transpired as he watched me share a recent live video:
    • My community – Per my “total BS community” statement above, I very naively believed I had a “place” in my South Asian community (saying this now feels so absurd), and – back then – I cared deeply about what they thought (the entire manner in which I was raised was based on “log kya sochenge/kahenge?” which translates to “what will people think/say?”). Therefore, I did not want anyone to think or say anything (because that would mean shame to me and my family), and I wanted my experience in that (BS) community to remain unchanged because my entire experience of life was so sadly based around it.
    • My ability to have any semblance of a normal life ever again – In a moment, one may imagine calling the police (I did), but that seemed more horrific than the incident itself. The questions, court, the newspapers (I remember a visual flash of an image of my face and his on the front page of a paper) and all of the aforementioned above knowing did not seem worth the police knowing or any pursuit of this absurd thing called, “justice.” Interestingly, I was totally naive to the injustices perpetrated against women who do come forward by the system itself as I would soon quite painfully learn and – if I could go back in time and never have had to report (something his actions compelled me to do and not of my own choosing) – I would.
    • His revenge and retaliation. My attorney ex (I will not give any additional descriptors at this juncture) was, let’s just say, not a nobody. He was very wealthy, influential, and – even though I hate this word – “powerful” in his connections. Not only that, when he held me hostage, he took photos of me on the toilet as I peed because I had my cell phone shoved in my winter jacket’s pocket and he, otherwise, would not let me pee without the door open (for just one moment, please pause and consider why any woman – any HUMAN – would ever want to utter those words out loud and, least of all, have my family know them??). I remember sitting on the toilet wearing my winter jacket and crying as he stood in the doorway taking photos of me and saying, “I will use these against you one day,” which he later did.

#WhenIDidReport – The backstory to this is that – after a very long slew of events that included him booking a flight to accompany me to the gate of my flight home (with the intent for me never to be left alone to be so inspired to call the police) – when I arrived to my parents’ home, he somehow understood us to be “good” again and that began 10 days of negotiating the “terms” of our relationship. Why would I keep talking to him? Because I knew he had taken those photos of me and this thought terrified me (I have all of these text messages- including the one where he talked about the scar on my face – printed and backed up on my phone; several phones actually). However, when I hung up on him 10 days later at 12:08 pm, he called my mom at 12:09 pm and began a course of action that was fully intended to destroy my life by directly impacting my family which included first blackmailing me and then my father with the photos of me on the toilet.

& the following statement is not for dramatic effect but the truth: if my family kept a gun at our home, I would not be writing this today; the day my dad received that email, a part of me died forever (I have never been able to control my tears when recounting this part just as I am unable to today), and I willed for God/the Universe to end my life, but, alas… Thankfully, I was born to a father who assured me that “nothing anyone could share or say about you could ever change my love for you. Never. We will always stand with you.” Those words literally saved my life, but I digress… Following the blackmail emails, my brother – who is the president of a busy ER practice and whose wife was pregnant at the time – cleared his schedule to accompany me back, and we went to file a police report and were granted an emergency plenary order of protection (OOP). On that note, “When I did report…”

  • The group of friends who I met him through – including one of my best friends (whose parents called me “Moon Daughter,” whose home I had spent Thanksgiving at and who I flew to LA for to watch her audition for a TV show while laid off for which none of her immediate family was in attendance) – were clearly most distraught over how awkward it was for them that I had taken this action.
    • Not one person in that group experienced a visceral rage for what I explained to them (perfect strangers have had more of it than they did); they did not want their lives and comfort to be altered by what I was “doing” (having reported)
  • Ultimately, I lost nearly all of my friends – including my best friend from when I was 4 years old (I was her maid of honor just 2 years prior and we had called one another “sisters” for 29 years). Literally, all of them were gone and not because they did not believe me, but because what I mentioned above and, also, as I later understood, it was very easy being happy-go-lucky-makes-everyone-laugh Smita’s friend, but it was not too fun being PTSD-anxiety-depression-panic-attacks Smita’s friend.
    • I had to subpoena the first “best friend” I mentioned to testify for me. Again: I HAD TO SUBPOENA SOMEONE I CONSIDERED MY BEST FRIEND TO TESTIFY FOR ME. Let that sink in… People think that the physical incident was the greatest trauma and get so (twistedly) caught up in wanting to know all of the details of that night which feel like an *entertaining* Lifetime horror movie for them, but they are so painfully wrong. What was infinitely more traumatizing was the aftermath and the betrayal of my understanding of friends, my community, the justice system and life as I knew it.
  • I was banned by a South Asian “professional networking organization” from attending an annual conference that I had pre-paid for; my ex was best friends with the then President of this North American organization that I had served and valued for years. Literally, this individual – without consulting his greater board or anything – took it upon himself to ban me from this event because my “ex was a sponsor of the event,” so, instead of banning him, they banned me following an incident in which I was forced to use my OOP. When I challenged this decision CC’ing his entire board, he replied-all with a 3 page 8-size font email annihilating my character and dismissing me entirely and they all – several women included – accepted it blindly as if God, himself, had spoken (note: these are all highly educated and mostly born in America professional South Asians). He would then later lie under oath for his best friend stating that I told him that I was “in love” and did not want the (3-month & in which no love was on the table) relationship to end when – in fact – an email was submitted into the record showing the complete opposite: that I wrote to him in complete desperation and stating that things were “call the cops bad,” and, accordingly begging him for his help in getting my ex to end the relationship.
  • I spent $30,000 and 7 months (going every 4-6 weeks with a 3″ binder of evidence) in court with the same female judge in the first case. Yes, that’s correct. There was another case on record from another South Asian woman just one year prior. This case was not allowed to be submitted, because our system would not want for there to be “prejudice” against the accused. Note: there is not enough space on this blog for me to explain how completely effed our “(in)justice system” is and women know this which is a huge reason why so many understandingly – although heartbreakingly – do not even bother.
    • I lost my case.  It was so clear that I – as a woman “going to these lengths” (like getting a lawyer as opposed to the general population of people who crossed her path without one and were easily granted OOPs) – offended the egregiously incompetent judge who slept during testimony (new friends who came with me to court can attest to this). In her victim-blaming ruling, she said something to the effect of (I paid $1500 to have every horrifying word when it was all over) “If it were me, I would have told my best friends… If it were me, I would have picked up a lamp and knocked him upside the head.” But YOU. WEREN’T. ME.… & you did not let my medical records be submitted which documented that I had SURGERY 2 weeks prior to the incident and was not even allowed to carry a heavy handbag. You also did not let my phone record – sealed in an envelope from Verizon – be submitted because “no Verizon rep was there to verify it.” You did all of this when I, literally, watched hundreds of people walk up to you sans lawyers show you one text message and be granted 6-months to 2-year orders of protection.
  • I was persecuted by more than half of my community for – both while the case was happening and after – publicly speaking out about what happened. I used the banning by the South Asian networking organization as my opportunity to “out” my ex (I redacted his name but people knew who I was talking about) as I learned that he had done this to countless more women before the 2 cases filed against him within one year’s time. I was enraged that SO. MANY. F*CKING. PEOPLE knew the horrors he had caused SO. MANY. WOMEN. – especially his ex before me whom he blackmailed for 3 months finally causing her to file an OOP – and not ONE person ever thought to spare me & my family from him, so I took it upon myself to do for other women what no one thought to do for me. Note: I am saying “I” when it comes to speaking out publicly when in actuality – after my email to the South Asian board fell on deaf ears – a male friend of mine spoke out on my behalf. Let that register completely: it literally took a MAN “representing me” for me to even be heard or considered…
    • Important cultural side note: Prior to us making the above public, I called my mom to give her a heads-up (knowing how trifling, petty & mean-spirited some Aunties, Uncles and their kids can be) about what was about to go down. She said, “Smita, I know your heart and why you want to do this, but can you please just wait until you’re married.” I told her, “with all due respect, absolutely not. This monster had done this to so many women and would continue to, and I could not live with myself if I stayed silent as he continued to destroy more women (& their families). &, should I ever get married, my person will be proud of me for the actions I am taking now.” Again, let that register completely: My mom (she is not culpable in how she has been insidiously programmed by her upbringing and our culture) believed that no Indian man (this was the implicit understanding of what I would be seeking at that time) would want to marry me if he knew what had happened TO ME. The funny and truly sad thing is that – even though I am not seeking an Indian man or any man at the moment – she is CORRECT; most Indian men (#notall) would not want to be with someone to whom this kind of thing happened.
    • & why was I persecuted by my “community?” Well, because I was violating the implicit South Asian social contract that I had *signed* by being born a brown woman by talking about a (supposed to be) “private or personal” matter and, therefore, was also “making our community look bad” by reinforcing stereotypes that folks may already have about our culture (errm… *NEWSFLASH* most stereotypes – even if #notallpeople – are born from unfortunate TRUTHS). It did not matter that I redacted the entire first case and shared it publicly… or that I shared many of the text messages he sent threatening me… or that my poor dad spoke out publicly… or anything. NONE OF IT MATTERED as they found it more plausible that 2 South Asian women (who had NOTHING logical to gain from taking these actions and only had everything to lose) were “crazy” and made false claims about one “reputable man” in one year rather than that one “reputable man” could do these things that were being alleged by two women. & I guarantee that so many of these trifling basics are presently irate at President Trump and this entire Kavanaugh-Ford situation completely blind to their own hypocrisy and irony when this all played out in real life 6+ years ago. I can just imagine them now with their “#believewomen” and “#IStandWithFord” posts not once thinking how they did not believe ME..

Again, I had a 3″ binder of evidence (& I still do to this day) and ALL OF THE ABOVE STILL TRANSPIRED, so I cannot even imagine those women who only have their word which will 100% – with no uncertainty – always be dismissed as being false (even though testimony IS evidence, ya morons) #sorrynotsorry as I have literal rage for the nonsensery that is spewed in the wake of women coming forward about what happened to them.

I am ending by sharing the following for those who want to educate themselves about the plight of women before you go judging them for what they did and did not do. You may or may not be familiar with the Amber Wyatt story, but this passage so perfectly sums up the various reactions people have to women coming forward about what happens to them…

“To look into the eyes of a vulnerable person is to see yourself as you might be. It’s a more harrowing experience than one might readily admit. There is a version of yourself made powerless, status diminished, reliant upon the goodwill of others. One response is empathy: to shore up your reserves of charity and trust, in hopes that others will do the same. Another is denial: If you refuse to believe you could ever be in such a position — perhaps by blaming the frail for their frailty or ascribing their vulnerability to moral failure — then you never have to face such an uncomfortable episode of imagination. You come away disgusted with the weak, but content in the certainty you aren’t among them.

Or they make you feel helpless, just by dint of how little you can do to stop what’s being done to them. The temptation in that case is to look away, let it all be someone else’s problem, or deny that there’s a problem in need of resolution in the first place.”

Well, thank you to those of you who made it this far. I appreciate you and look forward to sharing more of my heart (& my less serious “favorite things” – like my fave heated shower cap – with you &, for my old school posts on South Asian dating and more, click here),

 

 

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