I’ve changed. Really. As an eternal optimistic optimizer, I’ve sung this weary tune for far too long. I should know better – but I still declare victories when I’m only halfway through the journey.

Here’s a story of one particularly humbling moment when I was schooled by extreme-induced diarrhea. 

Being quietly spiritually smug 

In 2018, I spent four weeks at an ayurvedic retreat hospital in the mountains of Coonoor, Tamilnadu, India. I was doing panchakarma – an intense medical, emotional, physical, and spiritual process designed to purge one’s system. I had no idea what I signed up for. 

In keeping with the ancient Indian medical philosophy, I was in a quiet spiritual bubble. I spent my days receiving treatments, doing yoga, eating Sattvic vegetarian food, getting enemas, and going for long walks along the tea plantations. Most days were slow and spent in reflective solitude. 

One day, a friend from Dubai messaged me about the many different Netflix shows I ‘just have to watch’. 

Tsk, tsk.  

I self-righteously tutted. 

Netflix binging is an unfortunate emotional numbing agent. Poor girl. She knows no better. I continued with my walking meditation feeling spiritually smug.

The humbling power of extreme induced diarrhea

The following Sunday I was scheduled for virechana.

This is a purging process in panchakarma that expels ama (toxins) from your system. You take a tiny pill that induces extreme diarrhea. Although, I was dreading the treatment, I resolved to be fully present with the discomfort.

When the day arrived, the doctor came to my room with a grim-faced nurse. They administered the medicine. 

Remember to keep a count of the number of times you go to the toilet, dear. 

Obediently nodding, I went back to my bed to continue my meditation. 

That is when the cramps started. A deep pain cut through me. My stomach began violently convulsing. I ran to the toilet. 

Within minutes of relieving myself, the convulsions started again. 

I was writhing in fierce pain. The exhaustion of perpetually going to the toilet was beyond any kind of food poisoning I ever experienced. I began to wonder why I signed up for this stupid detox? Why did I ever consume a toxin in my life? And why wasn’t this cheesy TV show loading faster?

Wait, what? What…TV show? 

How did it happen? Without informing my mind, my hand had found the Netflix app on my cellphone. Sitting on the toilet, I was watching Brooklyn 99. 

And, once I became aware of what I was doing… I didn’t stop. As I moved between a posture of agony on my bed to one of profound discomfort on my toilet, Netflix accompanied me. 

It didn’t numb the pain — but Netflix did make the purging a lot easier.

Consider me spiritually schooled.

As the human embodiment of the gritted teeth emoji, I felt so much more humble. I mentally apologized to my friend for my judgment. 

I conceded Netflix does not fall into the binary of good or bad.  Using Netflix to escape your world by immersing yourself in fiction isn’t inherently bad. In fact, having a coping mechanism like a cheesy cop show…well, that can make the tough moments of life just a little more tolerable. 

I also acknowledged, with a lot of shame, my privilege. I had chosen to undergo panchakarma. For four weeks, I had only to think of myself, my treatment, and my healing. My friend in Dubai was living Life;  full-on Life. Her day was filled with the stress of unkind bosses, spousal friction, and financial concerns. Who was I to judge what my friend did with her free time? Who was I to decide her watching TV was a form of ‘emotional numbing?’ 

Today, I cringe as I recall the harshness with which I looked at others during my supposedly spiritual retreats from society. (If you knew me at this point, I ask for your forgiveness). The more compassion I bring to the reality of being human for myself, the more compassion I have for those around me. 

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Change is a wild messy non-linear process

Why have I consistently fallen into this trap of believing ‘I’ve changed?’  Part of it is immaturity, hope, and smugness. And there is another larger social narrative at play here. 

As a culture, we don’t acknowledge the messy middle of the process. We highlight Before and After stories. We celebrate achievements but not the stepping stones to get there. It makes sense then that on the personal level, we internalize this outcome-oriented approach to life. 

Here’s to acknowledging the messiness of life. 

The starts, the stops, and the in-betweens.

Here’s to the joy of Netflix binges and ice cream sundaes. 

And here’s to realizing time and time again – I am human. 

You are human. 

We are human.