I have finally come to terms with it. I am depressed.
Been so for quite a while now.
My depression has prevented my self-exploration (in every sense), I had withdrawn into a bubble (like seen in most cases), I had sudden manic outbursts of tears, fury, other emotions which I excused as causal to my (very attentive) boyfriend’s changing behaviour and the strained relationship between my parents.
I passed Durga Pujo, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, New Year and Saraswati Pujo convincing myself: it’s just a phase, it’ll pass. I’ll only have to ride through it. Honestly? It didn’t help. I wasn’t dealing with my depression, you see. I was afraid of it. Depression, for me, was the proverbial elephant in the room, every corner of my mind bursting with the pain of trying very very hard to contain all of these turbulent emotions, repeatedly giving myself false hopes that IT’S OKAY. IT IS NORMAL. YOU ARE FINE. When all the while I was pushing away the very people I love and those who love me back and could help. Depression has a way you isolating you, you know. It’ll strip you of all feelings, make you go numb and have you wake up in the middle of the long wintry nights leaving you to deal with that sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach whose origin you’ll never quite figure out.
I like to tell people I’m a melancholy person, that I study literature and criticize and can never see the joy in things because I’m busy deconstructing everything. That I’m the hero with the burden of an knowledgeable.
None of that stand true.
I’m human, I like human company, I’m compassionate when I need be, I like attention just like everyone else. It is nice to appreciate and be appreciated in return. And I also prefer my solitude. All of us do.
You see depression takes away the pleasure of both company and solitude. You want to be alone but you don’t want to be alone. You want to be saved because you feel like you’re being suffocated with this opaque blanket of self-loathing and doubt. You wish someone would cut through this darkness with a shining sword and sweep you off to Happyland.
It doesn’t happen.
Because, depression, you see, has a way of isolating you from your saviours.
Your wall of thorns has no rose and unless you shine that rusting pair of shears to cut through and just live, you’ll forever suffocate, alienated.
The first step towards defeating depression is admitting you have it. Then you apologize and reconnect with your loved ones. And: TAKE SOME FUCKING TIME OFF FOR YOURSELF. Don’t validate yourself through Facebook posts and WhatsApp statuses about how “heroic” you are in your depression. Fucking fight it. Get your ass off that couch. Get going. Go to that seafood restaurant you’ve been meaning to try out with you best friend. Walk around a park, Take some nice fresh oxygen, let out that poisonous carbon. Eat that double chocolate ice-cream,think about your waistline some time later. Cut out all that city noise, go on that mountain trek, jump into that blue lake, drink that suspiciously delicious soup. Give yourself a break.
Most importantly, love yourself. If you can’t love yourself, no one can love you in return.