Some Illusions From Past That I Lost To Stay Sane
Okay, so where do I begin?
I was in my third year of college, battling depression and anxiety, it had taken over my consciousness and I was no more myself, but just a withering machine on autopilot. It could collapse any minute.
I walked from hostel to classes, to canteen, to mess and back to hostel, on walks, sometimes alone and if I got lucky, in someone’s company which made me feel more than just flesh and bones. I would hear my thoughts running like bees trapped in a jar, though my thought trek led to anything but sweet honey. I remember how I would dread going to the canteen at 5 pm sharp, starving, because I had skipped breakfast and lunch, but it was more painful to deal with those intrusive thoughts of being surrounded with eyes who’ll put me on a spot, everyone would judge, “oh she has a weird walk!” or “she is the girl who doesn’t talk at all” or “ there goes the loner, nobody wants her” or “she never smiles” or “can she say hello once in a while!?” or “yeah right, noone talks to her” or “she is an oddball”, I may go on and on, likewise my brain buzzed with an endless train of these taunts. You know what, maybe I’ll just wait till someone calls to grab food later when this doesn’t feel so fatal.
Everytime before heading out, I’d look in the mirror to check my hair and tie them in a knot, but I saw something else, however hard I tried to ignore, I saw the dark circles around my eyes, chapped lips and dullness settled in my face, speaking to me, “you are no beauty”, I tried to convince myself, “ this is just temporary”, “your thoughts are erroneous and misleading”, “you know that appearance doesn’t define your personality”, but my mindset did define everything about me, I stepped out of my room with a sour mood, feeling guilty and scrutinized. Yes, I was my worst critic while my therapist was showing me how to be best friends with me. It was a long war, I was tired all the time, and there was no fire for the things I loved anymore.
Someone would ask, “why do you attend these classes, are they any fun?”, I knew the answer they wanted, “oh, I want grades, this is not to learn, but for an academic distinction”. I have been an obedient kid when I look back at my childhood and teenage years. I never skipped classes or resented studying, nor did I ever envy anyone’s success or wished for someone’s failure. I was proud of how I enjoyed reading and learning, it was just curiosity and loneliness that developed this habit. I can not complain about the years I spent in a daze, I was rewarded every now and then, I stood out of the crowd and I had the confidence to believe I was special. I felt like no normal kid, I was special and sweet. That time, I entered college with a lot of baggage, staying in Kota had drained the colours from my vision, I had a grey perception, I had lost that child in me. I didn’t remember parts of me.
I spent my time in the library, making friends with books and learning felt simpler than talking to people who were complaining and chaotic, for me it felt difficult to engage with their complexity. I was content, I wanted to not be bothered, though while sitting in the hostel room, I would remember again, I was no special. Noone was talking to me, and I took this and made it “noone wanted to talk to me”. It started like this, I’m portraying the beginning of my doom that engulfed me, no farther than a year into this journey.
So, everyday, I stepped out with notebooks nicely arranged in my bag that I would strap on my back, walking to class. I felt joyous somewhat. I won’t have to remember this part of me, I will pay attention to the lecture instead, and I would feel free, even if it’s for 3 hours out of 18. This is the reason I attended them each and every day of the week. Time alone didn’t bring much pleasure, but I could not enter coding competitions or enroll in online courses, I was fighting my thoughts every waking second, no, I couldn’t handle more of it. I couldn’t love studying if it was not absorbing me into oblivion, if I was still worrying about catastrophic misery. “ I can’t focus enough”, or “ I won’t remember this much”, or “I want my mind to stop being so restless”, or “ I can’t breathe, this is enough, I’m shutting this shit". This was how my 3 years went. I never ditched those classes, they sometimes pulled me close to tears when they lost their numbing effect. I would still recommend attending them, because I have good grades after all, and they matter when you have nothing else.
I have memories of things I valued the most during this chaotic humdrum, things that dissolved my worries and kept me sailing on this warship. I loved going on walks with friends, chatting up, cooking theories, sitting to watch TV series and movies, warm hugs, soothing words, supportive glances, rooting for my recovery, ranting philosophy, and phone calls in the evenings. I felt normal in those moments. These were my treasures as if sent from heaven. I will keep their photographs in the pocket of my heart, so now, when I’m past it, everything has slowly melted into stability and peace for me, and I cherish my belongings.
Yet what happened to me is normal. Taking care of my mental health is a constant effort, healing continues, I work to protect my mental health like I exercise to keep my tummy in shape, my cholesterol in check, so I don’t get a heart attack. You get it, right? It took me time to accept this meaning of normal. In lockdown, I went back home and closely engaged in improving my mental health more and more, I stopped avoiding my therapist’s calls and my mental homework. I slowly climbed out of this muddy puddle, drenched, it took me time, upliftment from people and conscious endeavour, to stand up from my knees to back on my feet. I am grateful for life, for every Taylor Swift song I remember, the love and kindness I receive and my delightfully surprising but steady growth. I am walking one beautiful road, unpaved but covered in autumn leaves, they are also floating with the wind and some crunching beneath my feet, oh, achhhhhi, I’ve allergies, I just sneezed.
I wonder how it was for you in your less than 20s. I hope this helps anyone who is struggling. I know it’s bad, but you are worthy no matter what you say to yourself. You should know you have a precious elixir, some drops might have leaked, but more are left to drink. It will be okay, if not now then in a few weeks, months or years, but you are just as special as me, which I have started to also truly believe.
