Learning to live

It’s been a tough summer. I lost my father-in-law to a freak cardiac arrest in his sleep, and it’s shaken me more than ever, and I can’t even imagine how terrible it must be for M and his family. He called it ‘life-changing’, among other things; he spoke of how it has changed his perspective on life, on death and everything he thought he valued. Yet, M and his family handled the sudden loss with such grace and dignity. I can’t help but wish I were as strong, mature and practical.

But I’m learning. And trying. For most of us, our biggest fear is losing people we love. But then, none of us is immortal; no one is going to get out of this alive. Yet we seem shocked when it’s time for someone to go. I think, as a society, we are not equipped to deal with death, and I really wish it were easier for us to cope with grief. M tells me we need to have more candid conversations on death – try and be more practical about it; think bank accounts, liabilities, loans, passwords, because honestly, the amount of paperwork one needs to do after someone’s demise is mind numbing. And since more often than not, losing someone catches us off-guard, we are flummoxed when it comes to getting to the financial and legal nitty-gritties. The authorities don’t make things any easier, and are notorious for making you run around. So having some idea about where things stand sort of smoothens the process; that doesn’t mean you’ll be any less shattered.

Do we need to think about death more often? Think about what we’ll do if someone close to us is no more? Be less dependent on them? To some extent, I’d think so. But is it possible to stay calm and unaffected when you’re even thinking about it? Wouldn’t it shatter you, when you must instead be enjoying everyone’s company when they’re still around? I’ve been asking myself some hard questions, and unfortunately, I don’t have clear answers, but preparing yourself to accept the eventuality that at some point, shit’s gonna hit the roof, is a good start.

On that solemn note, I take your leave. I promise to write more often.

Let’s talk about depression

I have been treating my blog like my private diary. Yes, I do realise that; and I’m glad that all this blogging has been therapeutic in a sense. It’s always nice to share a bit of your life with the world ( read: 5 strangers who skim through my blog) and at the same time, not worry about writing a great copy or a gripping lede.

I’m thinking about depression today, because it’s suddenly in the spotlight. Deepika Padukone, the Indian actress, spoke about it in a show; the Germanwings co-pilot was supposedly going through depression; someone my sister knew killed himself because he was depressed. It’s almost an epidemic now. And it is by all means a disease that must be addressed just like say, cancer. Yet, thanks to the stigma associated with this condition, in India at least, there is hardly any support system in place for people going through depression.

Another reason why this resonates with me is that I spent the best years of my life feeling depressed, lonely and suicidal. What made it a nightmare was the fact that I had zero support. My family was least bothered – in fact, it annoyed the hell out of them and they’d keep asking me to snap out of it. Which is ridiculous. With my friends, and at college and later at work, I would try to be as normal as possible, pretend that everything was cool. I’d even make jokes about my situation just in case they thought I was not okay.

I remember feeling powerless, hopeless, bitter, cynical but I never let it affect my work. Instead, the office became my refuge; immersing myself in work was my way of shielding suicidal thoughts. It also helped that I loved my job, and was having fun with my colleagues and friends. I was trying to distract myself constantly and I have had terrible breakdowns on many occasions and spent nights wide awake, crying and struggling to sleep.

I was afraid that I’d be ostracised if I was vocal about my depression. What if my friends stopped talking to me? What if I lost my job? So I did what my family trained me to do over the years – keep your thoughts to yourself, suppress your emotions and always, smile, be nice. Because we don’t want your neighbours or your relatives talking about you in a bad way, right? Abs0frikkinlutely. Can’t argue with that now, can we.

Anyway, for the next four years, I put my bravest face on. It was a facade, but I had to do that to survive and stop myself from becoming a complete wreck. There were days when I’d just go to the terrace of my apartment and wonder what’d it be like to jump; or walk really further into the sea in the hope that the waves would eventually take me.

But thankfully, better sense prevailed. I went to a psychologist on the sly because my parents were against the idea of me visiting a ‘pythiakara (mental) doctor’. I had a couple of sessions, and though it did not change my life, it made me believe that I’m a normal person and not a weirdo like my family thought I was. I got my family to meet the pyschologist later, and there was some drama what with the subject being my then boyfriend (M, whom I’m now married to) of more than four years whom my folks were refusing to meet, for whatever reason.

Things did work out eventually. Not because my parents changed their mind – they never did, and I doubt they are 100% okay with it now – but because I made a conscious choice to leave behind all that trauma and start a new life with the one person who was there for me, every single time.

Even then, my depression did not just vanish magically. After moving in with M too, there were days when I’d wake up crying, or break down in the middle of a conversation. I was trying my best to deal with my past, and failing, many times. It took months of resolve to consciously feel positive or at least fake it till it became a habit. It took months of reading articles and books on positivity and happiness, and trying to incorporate some of the practical aspects of it into my everyday life. It took tremendous amount of perseverance and effort to wake up every morning and be grateful for my life, for my struggles, for my past. And focus on myself, on M, on the two of us together.

It was definitely not easy, because depression doesn’t just cure itself. It doesn’t heal with time. And it wasn’t easy to forget all that I’d been through. It wasn’t easy to forgive my parents. I guess, I have come to accept that things couldn’t have been any different – my parents were like that and nothing can change them; I cannot rewrite what already happened. We never spoke about it and I don’t know if we ever will – whenever I made an attempt to discuss my problem, it led to heated arguments and I ended up feeling much worse. But we have sorted out our differences to some extent now and despite the fact that my parents and I were in a bad space then, on hindsight, we loved each other and did not want to see each other be sad.

In a sense, I’m grateful for it now, because it restored my belief in my own self – it gave me the confidence and the resolve to do something I really believed in. But most importantly, the fact that I was in a positive environment with an amazing guy who loved me unconditionally, helped me get over my depression. It was such a refreshing and liberating change in comparison to the environment I was used to until then.

Some people tell me I’m lucky that it worked out, that M was trustworthy, unlike their boyfriends. But no. I was unlucky as shit with life. I just happened to choose well, unlike them. And fight for what I believed in, when the easier option was to chicken out. And luck had very little role to play in it. A lot of my friends are super lucky in that they have extremely supportive families who let them do anything they want – what a privilege that is. I really wish I had that, because it would have made my life so much easier and happier.

A friend of mine is now going through depression. And though we are far away in different countries, I’m trying to be there for her. Thankfully, unlike me, she is vocal about her problem, she has identified it, and she is being treated for it medically. I’m sure she’ll be okay. Because the takeaway from my experience is that, love is the answer. I usually don’t say such things, but honestly, without love, freedom and strength, I wouldn’t have been able to tide over my bad times. And I can’t tell you how incredibly grateful I am for being able to write about all this now without breaking down or losing control of my emotions.