11- Birmingham

11- Birmingham, Alabama USA

We moved deeper South. It was Spring and the Azaleas, the Gardenias and Dogwoods were in full bloom.
The house looking like a ranch stood on a hillock facing a Catholic Church in the best part of Birmingham, Alabama. At the end of the steep driveway, was a Deck holding a Kidney shaped pool over which hung a lush willow. Bedrooms faced the water, its sunny reflections playing games on the walls inside.

We started our respective practices. Rakesh joined a large private Hospital and a Dialysis unit individually. I joined ‘Birmingham Psychiatry’ as part of a ‘group of Psychiatrists and Psychologists’ connected to 2 hospitals. Patients were of mixed ethnicity, largely Caucasian, with openness and readiness to get better.

Children began at Mountain brook Elementary in a good School system adjusting well.

There was a fair sized Indian/Punjabi community, as is, in most cities in US and we were welcomed to the ‘wk-end dos’ with emphasis on Desi Food, Desi music, Scottish Brew and more than just a dash of ‘material opulence’ thrown in.
We could now afford a live-in help and things seemed to look good.

After Spring, was Summer, Autumn and then Winter. I don’t know when things began to ‘not look’ so good.

At Cincinnati, Rakesh’s alcohol use had increased. Back home in Bombay, his father drank heavily to the chagrin of his mother and younger brothers who were also bearing the brunt. It began to bother me. We would get into arguments to no avail. It was after one such ‘scuffle’ I made an appointment with a Psychiatrist for us. He did come initially but as we began to address issues, he withdrew, labeling it as ‘my problem’ which indeed it had become.

It was then that I decided to continue in therapy along with my Residency training. I did it, also to sort out my own questions and self ‘perceived vulnerabilities’.

This proved to be a ‘significant chapter’ in my conscious life.

“The eldest girl who grew with father’s domination and mothers passivity, choices dictated by him- leading me to rebel, following his first long depression, inducing a guilt, perpetuating further need to conform to the now man i.e. husband. The marriage was an impulsive decision, once taken; I took the ‘role’ seriously as was my nature. While I was equally versed intellectually and emotionally, I accepted a position of ‘submission’ and played the martyr, as I thought was or ‘should be’ the norm for the ‘wife’. I was the passive, obedient sexual partner and conceived a child and then another, thus having to change the direction of my life prematurely and immersed in half hearted motherhood and half hearted medical jobs and education. There was little sharing between husband and wife. In fact now, his Alcohol intake was more regular, a cause of concern to me. It felt as if this was a price I had to pay.”

It was in therapy that I began to ‘grow again’ internally, subtly. It was in therapy that I began to take ‘responsibility’ for my future choices with deliberation and careful thinking.

Having worked and trained hard as Professionals, parents, home makers, we together had taken the decision to move for Private Practice to Birmingham.

Now, the house that we had, had our living-room at one end with the TV, which was Rakesh’s den, with his newspaper and Whiskey. On the other side was the ‘kitchen and Dining area’ where I would be and the kids’ rooms were in between. This physical distance at home between Rakesh and me became symbolic of our growing emotional distance. We were under one roof but really under different roofs.
I began to sense sadness within me but continued to devote my self to Divya, Karan and my patients. Rakesh and my Philosophy and ideas were completely different from beginning of marriage. He lived to eat and I ate to live.

As we settled more, once again, it began to seem that the last 13 years of my Marriage, children, home and Profession were not my own. I had constantly ‘conformed’. I began to feel a stranger in my own ‘self’. I kept trying to make adjustment.
Our conflicts, my growing unrest, had taken me to an ‘Analyst’ in Cincinnati.
I called him and resumed sessions on phone.

Another year dawned. Divya began rebelling like any teenager, partly because of the silent rift at home and partly the need to conform to School where she and Karan were the only Indian kids. Her rebellion surfaced further dormant feelings in me.

One day, a call came from the School. They said she had some ‘Valiums’ with her. Some time ago we had given her a pain pill and a valium for monthly period stress .The School board was tough. Rakesh and I felt they were being discriminatory. They were totally closed to hearing us as parents and as two senior medical professionals. No matter what we said, mattered.
Besides Divya’s problem, for the first time we felt alienated as Indians in this Caucasian culture.

We were directed to have family counseling which I thought then, was a blessing in disguise. Whilst Divya opened up, when Rakesh’s drinking came up, he once again refused further therapy.

Another crisis occurred.
Suddenly one day ‘The IRS’ called home. We were in big losses and no tax had been paid since the beginning of our move. To my horror, I discovered that Rakesh had been losing money in ‘speculative stocks’ not once but consistently. He would spend all his earnings in it, whilst telling me, his practice wasn’t still good and all house expense went from mine.

This woke me up. I felt cheated.

It was not just the loss of money in stocks but the realization that this was part of the syndrome of gambling. He always had a ‘streak’ but never like this. From Soccer-betting in UK to Horses, to ‘Grey hounds’ to Casinos to speculative ---- to now the impending take over of our ‘every thing’, perhaps everything that we owned----

There was complete denial of the magnitude and enormity of the problem by him.
He assured me, every thing will be ‘OK’!
I was not so sure---

Veena