LET'S TALK MENTAL HEALTH

I don't really know how many suicides will it take for the Indian community to talk freely about depression and consider it an actual real illness which drains out a person both mentally and physically. Journalists are doing a great job of reminding us how sensitive we millennials are that we keep taking our lives over trivial issues. Thankyou people, it is only making it worse, thanks a lot.

Indian actor Sushant Singh Rajput committed suicide on a day(yesterday) when I was already feeling kind of low. Maybe it was the novel I was reading or the reluctance to get out of bed, specifically on that very day. I couldn't believe it just like most of you. As shocking as it is, it also made me realize that depression comes with a persona of its own. You never know how a person feels within, no matter what they show on the outside to distract the extreme hollowness and hopelessness they feel within.

I think many a times people who suffer from depression and anxiety don't talk about it openly because they themselves are unsure of how to put it in words; this vacuum, how to even describe it.

I also think it's partly because some people think it's cool to label their temporary sadness as depression and it has reached to an extent where people who genuinely suffer from it are scared of being judged. Of being told that it's probably nothing, you will forget about it as time passes by or some bullsh*t like that.

I would like to plead to people to stop using the term 'depression' just as though it's nothing.

No, it is not cool or funny or something you can gain attention from. You are the reason many are still in this nutshell of emptiness and are not coming out of it. Suicide is not a joke. Can you imagine taking your life? Does your coolness make you feel the urge to take your own life? Imagine the utter disappointment that person feels. You just cannot, because you have not been there. Trust me it is not something you would want to feel.

* personal stuff, read at your own risk*

When I passed my 10th std with what every parent would call 'flying colors' I was more than eager to get into my college life. I wanted to become a doctor. And no, my parents never forced me into it. It was all me. Ever since I was a kid, doctor seemed to be the most respectful profession of them all. It gave me some kind of satisfaction to imagine that I would have the ability to save lives.

I went to a coaching class for my medical entrance exam preparation. My parents would agree that those two years were actual nightmares. Don't get me wrong I had friends, family and many to talk to. But what do I tell them? I had nothing to talk about. I felt like an utter loser who was mixed into this whole bunch of bright geniuses. An outsider trying to fit in. It felt surreal because I was this social-butterfly back in school. I was reading my 10th slam book the other day and it had sections of my classmates using words like funny- loving, cheerful, outgoing, naughty and talkative to describe me. I liked being that person.

I realized it soon enough in those years that I did not want to know which chemical had what atomic number or which part of a plant did what. I didn't care for the least. I just wanted to doodle, sketch, write poems, stories, write songs, sing them and that is all I did on the back of those huge chemistry textbooks. As a year went by, my textbooks seemed much heavier, people just seemed more fake. Everyone was pretentious in my eyes. I would eat a lot or not eat much at home. I remember telling my dad after a year that I would fail my board exams if I still continued with this entrance exam fu*kery. Obviously I did not confess it to him in this tone. Now that I look back at it, I think I should have.

I was unsure and my father did not catch up on what exactly was I feeling. He told me in the nicest way possible to try dividing my time and some other solutions that I did not hear as they just seemed to blur out because I knew by then I was a disappointment. He never said it. But I just felt it somehow, and it was eating me out. They had so many expectations. Forget everyone else, I had so many expectations from myself, my self-esteem was probably down to some percentage in negative. I was just struggling to keep up. It is like you are running, you want to run and you are, but just in that same place, without moving forward.

My dad set me up a timetable so I could better organize my day-to-day preparations. I was distracted, started getting random hallucinations while I was sleeping. I was crying in bed trying so hard to not inhale a breath because my parents would know. I never wanted to get up in the morning, it was so much of a task at that point of time. I just wanted to get rid of anyone or anything that connected me with the outside world. Which is why I would write my frustrations down. I thought my parents hated me. I kept thinking my friends were lying.

But anyone who knew me from that time would have not noticed it. I never carried it outside. I was ashamed of myself, I cannot imagine being like that today.

I wet my bed once during these two years. I don't remember why. Not that I was unaware of what I was doing. Fully conscious. Completely incapable of controlling the situation. I was shivering in pain that was not even physical. My mom came in rushing when she heard me crying. I was just exhausted to even control my emotions or talk about it. My mom asked me several times but I just couldn't get the picture of that wet bed out of my head. We never told dad about it. He would have been devastated.

For some people, it's easier to just shift your stream and try something different. It was one of the most difficult yet the best decisions I had taken in my life with my parents' help of course. By then my personality had changed. I was not the most social person ever but college friends and activities kept me busy and got me back on track.

My parents have seen it all, my yelling, my tears, my reluctance to learn, my nightmares, just never saw my struggles within because I never showed it to anyone. I never liked gaining sympathy from anyone. To this day I feel that way. I did not want people to pity me or in contradiction think I was just making things up to garner attention.

I still am not the most open person out there. Neither do my friends nor my parents. It's just something I am not comfortable with. But back then I should have just told someone. I told my parents a year after I was in degree college. They were just sad that they never saw the signs and that I never talked about it before.

I realized it only later that it was a really difficult time for me mentally. I don't want to label it though.

I also feel like I am writing about a completely different person. It is not my past, it was someone else. Was that really me? It is hard to imagine.

Today I will soon be graduating with a journalism degree and have a whole life to look forward too but I know for sure that no matter how hard my time will be in the future, if I feel helpless I will talk about it. Open up to people unlike before.

I asked for my friend's approval before posting this. I didn't really have the courage. I have not shared that part of my life with many people expect for 2-3 close friends of mine. Never in detail though. It is just very scary.

Talk to people, your family your friends and stay away from toxic ones. Mental health is so much more important than we think it is. It is the key to a happy life and happiness is not unachievable.

Also a quick shout-out to Pinterest for checking on me. I am fine. I just needed pictures for my blog thankyou :'). As they rightly have said here, you are never alone.