"Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho,
kya gam hai jisko chupa rahe ho
ankhon me nami, hasi labon par
kya hal hai, kya dikha rahe ho"
Nothing describes depression more aptly than this timeless ghazal by Kaifi Azmi. I was brought to it again today by some old photographs of some of the most terrible days of my life.
I was smiling in them all.
If the memories weren't there, I'd probably fool myself into believing they were happy times.
Why talk about this now, after all these years?
Well, because today I am at a place where I can look back without feeling the pain, the angst or even feeling terrible about myself; where I can handle talking to my near and dear ones about it, most of whom have had no clue (till this post) about these times or my mental state then.
It feels like a cliche to say that depressed people do not necessarily isolate themselves from the world. More often they immerse themselves in it, all the more, in the hope of an escape.
What is it like to be in a hopeless place - it is chaotic and disorienting. It was a struggle to get through a normal day; right from stepping out of bed, to stepping back in, without questioning it all. Everything was an effort. Routine tasks like brushing, eating, getting ready for the day, felt like they juiced every bit of me. What took the most, was acting like a normal person - social interactions, conversations, work. My self-confidence was at its lowest.
It is easy to express/emote anger, it is extremely difficult to express pain without anger.
I craved and searched for distractions, I laughed and smiled a lot to the world.
The nights were sleepless. It would be the wee hours of the morning by the time I managed to find some shut-eye with Dexter's soliloquy in my ear.
Did I seek formal help - unfortunately not, and looking back, I wish I had; my road to recovery may have probably been less bumpy. But I did use one or two mental health chat groups that allowed you to chat anonymously, some gave perspective, some gave strength. It was easier having virtual conversations since the effort of physical conversations was often too much to bear.
More than conversations though, I just cannot underscore the importance of silent company. There were times when there was only the pain and no words, and I'd call on Charlie to sit with me, and she would just join me wherever I was. Probably knowing the immense effort it had taken to even make that call or send the text, she never coaxed me to talk, and that made it easier to be with her in those times, just knowing that there was someone with you.
People do not always come to you for solutions, sometimes all they want is someone to lend some silent courage to get over that moment [1].
I promised myself to turn things around several times, and I failed miserably at it. It only felt like I kept falling deeper in the rut. In my weakest moments I felt borderline suicidal, and don't exactly remember how I pulled out of those, mostly it was thoughts of my parents and the belief they had instilled in me over the years that I brought joy to them [2].
I tried a lot of things to make myself feel better at a given moment, most were quick fixes, but I focused on things as they came. I just wasn't in the mental frame of thinking long term. I used adrenaline rushes to get over negative feelings; I'd take these breaks to cycle very fast around campus - this forced me to focus on the road, breaking the chain of thoughts, and the adrenaline rush left me with an overall feeling of goodness at the end of it. I tried focusing on one good thing that happened over the day. I wrote miserable poetry. Over time I built a routine of small things that I just did without giving a second thought. If there's one thing I learned from the endless re-runs of Dexter, it was to build a code (of functioning) around your chaos, and stick to the code. So I built a code and I switched to default mode whenever I'd feel too overwhelmed.
Not everything was by the book, but I eventually pulled out of it.
It took time - a lot of it.
And it has taken much more for a brutal acceptance of everything that I have been between then and now; to tell oneself that falling, doesn't mean you are fallen forever, but to deny the fall happened, is to deny the lessons as well.
I share this now, so someone who needs to see this, finds hope, finds ways to deal with the pain, finds the courage to seek help. I write this in the hope that you stop sometime to see beyond the smiles of your friends. I write this so you can be the Charlie for someone who needs one.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
[1] Sergeant Kevin Briggs has a beautiful TED Talk on this here:
https://www.ted.com/talks/kevin_briggs_the_bridge_between_suicide_and_life?language=en#t-339988 ).
[2] Little words of appreciation matter, they make people. They sometimes hold them together when everything else is falling apart. When someone makes a difference, tell them, you never know when they will fall back on it.
[3] I am not a mental-health professional, and what worked for me is not written here as advice to be considered in place of professional help. We are shaped not just by our circumstances, but a lifetime of interactions; I have been fortunate to have some happy- experiences that I could draw on, in some difficult times. If you are dwelling on it, make that call - seek professional help.
[4] For those wondering the why-s and how-s, I have moved on and they really don't matter any more and I'd appreciate if it was respected and folks moved on too. I am always here to share my learnings without the specifics though.
[5] The comments to this blog are not published without approval. If you feel like reaching out to me on this, you could drop a comment with your e-mail and I will get back soon as I can. Rest assured the comment will not be published if you do not wish it be so.
Comments