Saritha Tirunagaru Nord, Esq.

Things are looking up!  Happy Friday the 13th to you too.

What's in a name?

"Who am I? I asked myself. But it was like trying to identify one particular cell that coursed through the torpid veins of my body." - Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (I think).

The last few weeks have felt like such a hurdle – an omnipresent force hurling me into a dusky oblivion. My ego is taxed and I’m questioning myself in ways I haven’t done in a very long time.

I always knew I would change my name after marrying – it was never a question I’d be a Mrs. [husband’s name]. Never. But this whole marriage, name-change process – this cultivating a new life and family has left me feeling I’ve abandoned the old – leaving ‘Saritha Prasad Tirunagaru’ high and dry. I’ve left it all - my identity - without a proper burial. No eulogy or apology. How could I let it all go with nothing more than signing a DMV application?

I’m sure this sounds ridiculous. After all, I am me. But, dammit, I put a lot of work into creating the goodwill that comes with my name. Everything about me – this person with all her successes, failures, humility, quirks, neuroses – was developed under that old name. And I just cast it away indefinitely.

Although, lets face it, the true root of this seemingly inane emotional turbulence isn’t the name change. I love being a Mrs., and a Mrs. Nord no less.

Perhaps I wasn’t ready to “leave” my family so quickly. In traditional Indian culture, the girl generally lives with her parents until she marries, then moves to her husband’s home. Moreover, during engagement ceremonies, to symbolize her leaving her parents home, the bride sits with a plate of rice grains in front of her, takes handfuls of grains and tosses it over her shoulder – a very emotional ritual. While I wasn’t raised under strict Indian tradition, and while I haven’t lived at home in 10 years, getting married nonetheless made me feel like I tossed my old life and identity like those grains. I thought “this is it…. I’m leaving my home – my parents, my siblings.” And even more sobering: “I am not a part of that home anymore.”

Surely I am, but I now have a new immediate family, John. It’s exciting – but strangely disarming. I think of my parents, more specifically, my Mom: a 16 year old immigrant, newly married to a stranger, traveling 10,000 miles to America, not knowing any English, having to create, maintain, support a family while being thrust into a new culture with no web of support, equipped merely with the hope she could raise in an unfamiliar place healthy and happy children in the image of her past (Indian culture) and future (American ideals). And she did it. So well.

Am I that strong? Am I capable of raising and supporting a family under a spectrum of adversity? I can only hope I have even a speck of the courage my Mom had when it comes down to it.

Then of course, that damn bar exam rears its ugliness yet again. I thought preparing for it was the tough part. Rather, being done with it has rendered the ego quite weary. No routine, no job, no prospect of a job – feeling so useless, feeling I’ll never be a valuable societal cog; feeling I will never accomplish anything. “Is this what I really want to do?” “Why didn’t I just become an art therapist/psychiatrist like I always wanted.” “IT’S TOO LATE – stop asking those damn questions!! You’re not doing yourself any good.” “Stay positive…. just stay positive… its gotta work out right? Right? RIGHT?” “I couldn’t possibly have worked this hard for nothing." "Could I have?”

There are simply too many forces working against my confidence – whittling away at any sensibility necessary to stay focused. And so I nap….. a lot. I try and convince myself to relax because I won’t ever have this kind of free time ever again. If only I could enjoy it.

Its just change, I tell myself. Inevitable change. Perhaps too much at once for this frail spirit.

Milestone Reached

Muddled, muddled feelings. Relieved my shoulders feel light again. Anxious to return to my old ways. Fearful there is no job in sight. Happy to see and talk to friends and family again. Worried about how I'm going to pay upcoming loans. Delighted I can read non-academic books at my leisure. Nervous about the prospect of not passing and having to wait four months to find out. Thrilled to start half-marathon training. So many emotions I don't even know how to release them other than wanting to cry!

You'll be happy to know, though, yesterday I felt inexplicable, utter excitement - as if my body contained the sun bursting out of me. I felt accomplished. But today, not even sure what to do with myself.

These last three months have flown by so quickly I didn't even realize how much of an innate habit studying had become. For instance this morning I woke up at 6:30am, unable to "sleep in" as sleeping in has not been an option. Then I walked downstairs carrying my water glass and cell phone as I normally do, and almost put my glass and cell phone on the dining table to the right of my laptop, sat down, opened my laptop and went to open up my books (which are no longer on or near the dining table). Snapping out of it I couldn't believe the roboticism taking over. Instead, I thoughtfully put my water glass and cell phone on the coffee table and sat on the couch for a few minutes, reveling in the disparity between this morning and the last 90.

My task as of Monday will be to figure out a new routine, get all the errands done I've been meaning to, clean up the house, reorganize things, search for jobs, send out networking emails..... the list goes on and on.

Until then, as Dave Chappelle as Rick James would say "It's a celebration bitches! Enjoy yourselves!"

Can you guess what I'm getting at?

I obviously put no effort into being evasive.

A blessing and a curse

Generally I fancy myself a person who performs well under pressure - who can take the bull by the horns and kick its rear from here to Endor. However, I've found a nemesis I can't seem to overtake. Preparing for the bar has left me with nothing but feelings of inadequacy. As the hour draws nearer all I want to do is curl up in the fetal position, scream at the top of my lungs, drop my books, and run away. It's not that I'm incapable, there's just not enough time. They shove down your throat in three measly months thousands of pages of substantive material, about a hundred essays, infinite multiple choice questions, and a handful of performance tests leaving you no time to actually ingest the information. What's worse is they repeatedly tell you "you will not be able to learn everything, the goal is to learn the basics and try and slide by." Umm.... what?! How on earth is it rational to design an exam where even the brightest absolutely cannot learn everything necessary for the exam?

But it's not entirely the battle of the behemoth Bar that's most menacing. It's the idea that this is merely the beginning. The effort, energy, and mind power expended to learn the material, do the assignments, (try to) ignore the stress, and (try to) put away the doubts appear not to even be a scintilla of the effort, energy, and mind power needed to succeed in this career. It all feels so daunting.

Well, 22 days til the test starts - both a blessing and a curse. Certainly I am ready to be rid of it, but certainly there is not enough time to be fully prepared.

All this is leaving me cranky, grumpy, and likely intolerable (poor John). Never have I questioned entering the study of law until these last few months. And never did I think something like a mere test would make me feel so ineffectual. I've succumbed to my inner antagonist and it is starting to feel rather claustrophobic.