Posted in Prose

When depression and anxiety dropped by

This is not a cry for help, just a cry.

Lights off. I settle in bed, shuffling my blankie in the cosiest way I want. There’s a knock on my door. And then things changed, the cosiness was gone, the night was colder than ever before and the lights remained off for longer than I can possibly remember now. I lost myself that night, I found not the pieces of my sanity and my mind flickered like a candle in the storm. I am taking a painful ride through the worst of times, desperation, devastateness and emptiness and trust me it is no fun ride but an agonising walk through the wilderness. Let me see, I have decimated from being good to being empty and hollow and that does not sound any good, does it? I have no good, convincing reasons as to why I have been falling but it’s hurtful and exhausting. My mother looks at me and sees a happy child, my father sees a hardworking, passionate girl and my brother sees a fun sister but I have a well deep in me that I have covered with something of a huge thing on the top and let pretty creeper plants grow all over it, they cover the sides and fall over from the edges now. I am wide, gaping well that has in it trash, vain thoughts and trash again.

I thought I was doing great, posting happy, positive things on social media, connecting back with friends and healing from a heartbreak when suddenly depression and anxiety stopped by to say Hallo and check in on me. They stayed for long and they have decided to stay on. Now I wake up each day wanting to sleep on, never being grateful for my existence, apathetic to the birds outside my window and the sun peeping through the cracks. I pull myself together to get myself to freshen up and let positive vibes take over me but I tick-tick on my phone and I see my friends smiling with their best friends, I see the world falling apart, nations fights against each other, people giving up on themselves and people writing, “Everything will be alright”. I pull myself again to eat and work hard to build my career. What do you think? I don’t work or study,? I do. I start with writing a paper, a minute later check my phone, an hour later read a book, five minutes and I walk around aimlessly, then maybe go and binge eat and then worry about putting on weight and then study again because I have to do well and be the topper I always was and then scroll endlessly on social media and then I feel devastated about the things happening with me and I go to a corner to cry and let out repressed emotions. Fresh air would do some good so I stare out the window and then think, think and think about how caged I felt. Well, writing has always helped, so I settle down with my laptop and begin to write. I write two sentences and feel overwhelmed. Maybe sleeping will help. I slump on the couch and shut my eyes and then wake up in a jiffy because I dreamt something disturbing. So nothing helped. I try to text a friend and realise they are doing sensible things unlike me who was always ruminating. Trust me it’s been hard.

My mind’s been swinging like a pendulum and I have tried staying put but I seem to oscillate every minute of the day. I feel lost, empty and hopeless. My depression and anxiety eating me up like a ferocious animal, I feel like a helpless creature in the mouth of my predator. I have become a vagabond in my own streets, a stranger within myself and I have lost my way. How do you expect me to reach out to you when I have lost myself in the highways and bylanes of my messy life? Or do you expect me to call or reach out? Or do you even know that I am shattered?

I am sorry if I don’t return your calls or reply back to your texts, it’s just that I don’t feel like but I still love you. I am not sure if you get it, if you don’t it’s hard to explain. I am dying each day and I don’t feel like reaching out. The last time I did, you gave up on me, you told that on my face and though you did apologise I still hesitate to come to you and be a burden and a leech that would not go away. I called you when I wanted to talk but I have cut calls almost immediately. I am sorry but I have deleted your number on my phone and erased all your memories from my phone because you associate with a lot of traumas. I am sorry.

Ever since depression and anxiety met up with me, I have been unable to get rid of them. The days are long and the nights are terrorizing. I sit still all night wondering why I am staying awake and in the mornings I just don’t feel like waking up to face a new day. I spend my days doing so many things that I believe would distract me but at the end of the day I fail. Fail drastically. I have lost a fight that I never thought I will even have to face. The heaviness in the heart, the haziness in the mind, the insomnia, the starvation, the gloominess, the tiredness, the pessimism, the shutting out, the tears and the lethargy are genuine. Please don’t term these as “Nothing” because I wake up each day to do better but I have failed. The reason for the depression I don’t know and the anxiety, sweating of hands, exhaustion and the ruminating mind I cannot explain. So if you think I am faking it, I am not even asking you to be anywhere around me. I don’t want the help, I don’t want to reach out or talk right now. I want the two guests to leave and be gone.

And hey,

This is not a cry for help, just a cry.

Posted in Prose

The last piece.

For Adarsh

I am that last little piece in the jigsaw puzzle that finally makes sense.
If it weren’t for me the picture you behold would definitely be a picture but would you live up to see or make sense of the whole even if your imagination has given me away, pulling you away to a side to show you the complete picturesque without me being fitted into my place? I am that last piece that makes sense and over the years I have been told to fit in, curve myself, lean forward, submit a little, stoop very low and let the rest of the pieces take control over my sides so we could fit rather well in unison and stay put for a long time, at least for a while. For the longest time in my entire life I was submissive, let the picture oppress me, to stay, to make sense and be the final one that brought the “Whoa” in people. Didn’t I like all that attention when people picked me to fit me in? Didn’t I possibly enjoy those moments when I and only I could finally make sense? Didn’t I enjoy the privileges I was offered, the fact that looking at me for the first time I didn’t make sense as to where exactly I could be placed but only could when finally everyone were placed, smoothed and settled in? Didn’t I come to relish that ultimate moment when I was scrambled for and fitted in with all pride and dignity? I did. I did a million times. It’s been so long, 22 years to be precise and I am bored, I wanted spice, some aroma, some mystery, something different. I wanted to be that piece that went missing under the table, that caused all the trouble, that was the sole reason the puzzle was left incomplete and the piece that had broken sides so as to be replaced, changed and maybe even thrown away so I could somehow see the backyard, lie in the pile of junk that went to the junkyard to be recycled, smashed and transformed to something else- maybe a flat piece of plastic or just a stupid piece so I could lie there in the yard and watch the world go by. If I had bad sides, too obstinate to fit in with the rest, the picture on my face faded and insipid I would be the change won’t I? I would probably be the reason why “they” thought it was high time for a change of jigsaw puzzle and tried a hand at scrabble or chess or simply gone to get a life outside of jigsaws, puzzles and pieces.
I was told to fit in but what if I pushed myself to the edge of the table to fall down and roll under the table to lie there dusty and unpicked for a long time I would be the resistance that brought change won’t I? I could give jigsaw some time alone, I could be the reason why jigsaw had to be locked again in little Joe’s cupboard for a long time, maybe for another 22 years. Maybe I could lie beneath here, swept out very soon into the backyard and be gone for good and for Resistance and Change. Just a little Resistance and Change from my rather boring fitting-into-the-jigsaw-puzzle life. And to simply be gone to get a better life. Something a little better.

Posted in Prose

Pull back the covers

I scrambled out of bed.
In a jiffy pulled back the curtains to see the reflection of my fainted heart.
It was a wet day, the birds were not out in the skies nor were the skies a happy blue today!
Aha! The sun wasn’t there peeking through the clouds nor were the trees on the yard sunkissed. Today they were green, strangely greener in tone, texture and colour, the water gleaming on the leaves. I stood watching the nuance of nature for the day! Why it was sunny yesterday, where did the storms drive away the sun, was it hiding behind clouds , clinging on like a little child onto its mother’s dangling piece of cloth! How was it that the sun was gone and that the storms took over in all power and harshness? How was it that my soul felt thrilled yesterday and today it poured down heavily on the grounds of my mind, seeping deep into every crack on my ground?
So I pulled back the covers………….
It was pouring down heavily somewhere deep in the lands of my heart, thundering storms and driving away every ounce of joy, sweeping away my reasons to cheer and smile again. They thundered, rained and rained…….all day long, it took over every sky, ground, street, city and lands within me.
Why I was exhausted, my aching heart deprived of every strength to fight back the winds, the storm and the darkened clouds!
So I pulled back the covers, away from the reflection of my soul outside my window.
I had to get out of the mess, run through the rain as quickly as possible no matter what, even if it meant – drenched, soaked and weary!
I did try, but the storm was hard, stronger than my will power to fight. I saw it coming again, thunder that shook my self, lightning that blinded the eye, pour that numbed the flesh and pain that destroyed me. A pain that I thought had gone away, the pain of losing…….
So I pulled back the covers and I was gone probably drenched in the rain, shook by the thunder or blinded by the lightning,
I closed my eyes and I knew not what for a while, a while I wish lasted forever…………

 

Posted in Prose

She isn’t here anymore

Sunday, 4: 30 pm
I was at the woods. Lost in thoughts. Left to myself. The vast greenery, the chirp of the birds and the silence engulfed me in a satisfaction that was unknown yet relaxing and calming. I sat on the grass, feeling the cool beneath, feeling every detail of the air around me as if they were the only companions left in the world for me. I plunged into this endless verdure trying hard to forget the world beyond the gates of the woods. My heart danced along, flew higher and higher with the little birds, gurgled down and far with the blue waters and stayed calm and prosperous like the fresh grass. Why but I lost myself every time I visited these woods, my heart lost itself among the tall trees and the grass growing low and green.
It was yesterday or was it just yesterday that I ran home from among a crowd of buzzing people, an environment that judged me, rejected the person that I was and demanded me to be different and behave like the “All”. Was it just yesterday or was it every day that I did flee away from people. I never knew why but deep, deep down in me I knew I fled every day. But yesterday was different.
Was it wrong that I was different, that I like being in the corner, that I was lost and that I wasn’t like the others? I never know but my existence was challenged and they asked me to change, they asked me to laugh more often, jump up and down, buzz around, buckle up, put on fake smiles, hide the tears and act strong. I was pushed hard back and forth in the society. They expected me to change.
Wasn’t there one kind soul who would want to accept me as Me and not as someone else? I pushed forward each day, trying hard to smile, giggle and act like an extrovert, all to be accepted. Dazed, confused and lost I put on a different version of myself to finally focus all eyes on me, for all the spotlights, for all the attention.
Devastated. Pained. Dolourful. I cried each day, very often sinking down in grief and melting away with the scorching heat of the garish sun. I knew myself no more; I put on a face that I failed to recognize anymore. I was a girl who dwelt in the bodies of those who demanded the change, a new Me, I hardly even recognized.
Days into nights and nights into days, my mind suddenly turned into a battlefield. It was a war that I knew not when it erupted, why and how. And every time I closed my eyes I saw myself battling with myself. How strange! The image flashed before my eyes over and over, promising each day elevated chaos and desolation. The tension strained down on me, weighing down on me, my legs giving me away.
The battle grew horrendous with each passing minute, filling the grounds of my mind with more blood and dolour, more of hopelessness. Over the years I knew I was a product of extreme pressure, the out-turn of disgusting chaos that yielded out from the attitudes and minds of hundreds and hundreds of chaotic people who managed to weigh me down with the definitions of acceptance. I was cast down, trampled and lost. I was in the middle of nowhere, in the body of a person I did not know any more.
She wasn’t the girl who talked to the little creatures of the earth, she didn’t look at the skies and the stars and lose herself, she never strolled in the woods, feeling the air, the grass and the water. This girl was different. I did not meet her anymore. I went far and wide, into the woods, deep into the wilds, behind every tall tree, by the river banks and up beyond the skies but she seemed to have gone far away into an unknown land.
And each day I waited for one person to come along,
To help me fight and find the lost girl …………….
Posted in Prose

A reason on the banks

Was it a quiet evening?
Or was it just a quietness I perceived?
With my endless list of chaos was it even quiet?
Five kilometres away from what I called home, sixty from what I called love, one from what I called peace and crouched right on the banks of what I called bliss and rest to my soul I feel insecure, hopeless and no reason to live yet feeling happy and myself in the company of nature at the same time. How was it that I was lost in the line of the horizon and yet present in the moment or how was it that I had a million reasons to die but yet that I chose to live? Away from everyone, the melodrama of life and from the business of the day, I find solace on the banks of a river I spent nights and days. Racing my thoughts between the wonders of life and the emptiness it held, these banks often gave me an answer, it often made me press on and it often let me turn back home with hopes of seeing a clear blue sky with a tinge of pink here and there.
Queerness, dispute, bafflement, incorrigible a million times, dazed and stunned, the world twirled and twirled all round me, grabbed my waist violently, the wind snatched my hair together in its fists and threw me off my senses and put out my desire to live. Living with it every day I feel numb yet lost, worried and somehow hopeful that I can change something for myself, find meaning, search out myself from among the confusion but it seems impossible. I am drained so much of my energy that I have got no strength to even hope.
Nevertheless I walk down the pathway of life aimless, grieved and hoping madly in my heart to see light at the far corner of the road but in vain. I don’t know why but I walk on, my mind secretly telling me, hiding its hopes from my body that I would very soon see faces and hear voices soothing. And yeah, my legs carried me further and further down into the jungle of life, little knowing that the mind is in appreciation of the ways of my feet. Every day I move on to places unknown and streets unfamiliar and every minute hoping for a hope yet seemingly and widely planning hard to give up this long, never ending walk that I have been doing for the past 21 years. Pretty long.
In the meantime……..
This long journey I ever always thought of giving up, finishing it off for good, I thought not so when every day I sit at the banks of the ever flowing river, flowing on and on to places far off yet happy, cheery and gurgling down. Funny but these banks taught me lessons in the meantime when life gave me reasons to quit, to jump mightily into this river and float away like a corpse feeling nothing and sensing no more. These frequent, lazy, seemingly meaningless visits to the banks of the river revived me every day, built in me a power so divine, the power to press forward and the courage to see, to appreciate, to realize and to accept pain and believe that it would pass away like the flowing waters that keep on and on even when the sun shines down garishly and slows down its gurgle down into the ocean.
Why jump right into the current and die when you can swim against the current and reach the banks successful, content and happy.
I found my answer, the answer to why I should walk on when the lights are out, when the streets are deserted, when people have isolated you and when you are all alone on an empty, dark and moonless night. I found it because meanwhile life is about you and you alone, it is a challenge, a challenge to walk down bold whether or not you are accompanied. You need to rise up against the odds, fight the thoughts that make you give up and light yourself a candlelight and walk down bold even when you are alone…..
After many a drama of life. Very often in the meantime………,
As I sit by the banks hopeless I hear the gurgle of the waters, the quiet rush of the waters between the pebbles, the silent chirp of the crickets and I feel the gentle breeze that promises me the hope of a better tomorrow.
In the meantime, amidst the tension between life and death, with all my affliction, dolor and hopelessness I see light peeping through the thickness of my heart-rending pain……..
Get up! Pick yourself up! You can fight!
Look around you when you lose hope, you will find it in the little things of life, you will find a reason to light your own lamp and go on,
Look at the birds of the air and the lilies of the field how they chirp on and sway on relishing the beauty of life each day……………
There is a reason to live each day.