The Buzz

The Buzz

The television always stayed on whenever my grandparents visited our home. Vibrant commercials danced across the screen as they watched, nibbling on biscuits like squirrels.

The furniture creaked as my grandfather rested his beautifully wrinkled arms and shifted his weight on the chair. I loved being around them- not saying much, but simply completing my homework or reading a book.

Engrossed in the imagery of a thrilling novel, I laid on the sofa next to my grandparents when suddenly – a buzzing sound caught my attention. I looked toward the window and spotted a gigantic bee that had entered our peaceful abode. Needless to say, the peace was completely ruined as I sprung off the sofa, screaming for dear life. I was only a little girl and had never spotted such an enormous bee. My grandmother tried to pacify me as she used her scarf to direct the bee out of the window. Within no time, the bee flew out, nonchalantly. “It was a just a hornet,” my grandfather casually mentioned as he patted my back to calm me down. “Just a hornet?! That looked like the captain of all the bees in the world! It was about to attack us!”, I cried as they hugged me.

Several griefs later, after having lost my grandfather and moving to a different city, I was collecting crisply dried clothes from my balcony. Sweating profusely due to the scorching heat, I prepared to get back to my apartment when a familiar sound caught my attention. A loud, buzzing sound. You guessed it, it was a hornet - large, strong, warrior-like. Painted in stripes of orange and black. Panic stricken, I raced back into my apartment with an enormous bunch of clothes in my hands. I slammed the door shut and gasped for air. A whirlpool of memories flashed before my eyes-my grandparents, their love and concern, the hornet, a purple scarf, the pat on my back, the hugs. I threw the clothes on my mattress and reached out for a glass of water next to the lamp. I heard it again – that sound. That awful, buzzing sound. Innocently, I had assumed that the hornet was out in the balcony before I raced back into my flat. I thought I was safe. Little did I know that this ‘gigantic bee’ had made its way into my house, right before I slammed the door shut- locking it inside my flat.

This time, I couldn’t take it any more. Grabbing my bag, phone and house keys, I charged out of my apartment. Fortunately, my therapist had agreed to pre pone that day’s appointment. The cab journey was awkward as I cried my heart out, while the driver stared at me from the rear view mirror. Explaining the history and my experience with hornets to my therapist, he said, “Are you okay to try something different, today?” With a startled expression, I uttered the words, “What do you mean? Okay, I’ll try.” When we undergo therapy, the foundation of the process is strongly based on willingness – the willingness to work on ourselves. Having known my therapist for years, I trusted him.

“Stand up slowly, breathe and close your eyes,” he said. “Now, imagine that YOU are a hornet.”

“What! I can’t, I don’t know how to. I’m scared!” I blurted, nervously. “It’s okay, are you willing to try?”, he asked. I sighed, my heart knew that I had to be strong, I had been yearning to work on this fear. “Now, spread your hands as if they were a beautiful hornet’s wings and walk around the room,” he suggested. I inhaled a big scoop of oxygen through my nose and said, “I’m ready.”

At first, I was slightly embarrassed. A grown up woman with her eyes shut, flapping her hands around like an insect. But I had gradually learned not to judge myself during the process of healing. I had unlearned those feelings of shame and guilt and let them be replaced with openness, love and respect for myself. Interestingly, the initial feeling was always negative, but I had quickly learned to allow those thoughts in my mind – let them linger for a while and then make way for stronger, positive thoughts.

Flapping around the room, my arms felt the cool breeze cut through my finger tips. This is how a hornet must feel, flying freely around the universe. I smiled. “Beautiful, now try humming a buzzing sound, if you’d like”, my therapist suggested. I smiled wider. As I flapped my wings, I hummed, “Hmmmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmm.” Even though my vision was pitch black, I continued to hum, flapping my wings up and down and ambled around the room. Instinctively, with my eyes shut, I spotted a source of light. I allowed the rays of bright, orange light guide me and wandered towards it. “Hmmmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmmmmmm.” As I paced toward this bright source of light, I stopped and heard my therapist’s voice, “Now, open your eyes.” Gently lifting my weighted eyelashes, I found myself standing near the window. Pearls of tears rolled down my eyes. I fell to my knees and wept. Only this time, they were tears of joy. Without a word from my therapist – I realized that hornets are attracted to light. I placed my hand on my chest and allowed myself to weep some more. I let all the fear, shock and panic leave my system. They were now paving way for sheer amazement. It was one of the most glorious rush of emotions I had ever experienced. My therapist sat me down and allowed me to stay with my feelings. We discussed the beauty of exposure therapy. I felt liberated, light and new.

My grandmother is currently adjusting her reading glasses as she flips the pages of her book. The light from the window bedazzles her grey locks that are wrapped in a tiny bun. I am right next to her as I type this article, wearing an orange and black crochet top that she knitted for me, just a few days ago.