“Here is the tragedy: when you are the victim of depression, not only do you feel utterly helpless and abandoned by the world, you also know that very few people can understand, or even begin to believe, that life can be this painful” – Giles Andreae.
It’s very difficult to get out once your mind gets in, melancholy mode that is. You do not know how you get there, but once you are in, it is a very different proposition.
Like me, last three days. I do not know why.
I have not sent out even a single message on WhatsApp.
I am unsure of the decisions I had taken in life, though it seemed the perfect ones at that time.
I am conjecturing why it is only me that has pecuniary predicament worse than those days of the economic recession.
I go on wondering why she is a lot different after she graduated from girlfriend to wife in the eight years I have known her.
I am not able to comprehend why the person who was my best friend once upon a time has not spoken to me in a decade, or wouldn’t even accept my friend request on Facebook.
I regret the day I said “fuck off… your go your way, and me, my way”.
I still do not know why I miss her lots, a platonic narrative that never even embarked on its voyage really.
I lament the moment I switched from my favourite job for obviously no reason.
I keep yearning if life had a rewind button.
When depression happens, these are the thoughts that criss-cross your otherwise unwavering mind. Although there was no reason for me to fall into despair, it just happened. And it is painful.
Maybe the unduly long off-colour break, so many days away from office, and the difficulty in passing time by counting minutes and seconds pushed me into this. And these are some fraught moments that you get to introspect yourself. It’s like a chakravyuh sometimes.
“Do not brood over your past mistakes and failures as this will only fill your mind with grief, regret and depression. Do not repeat them in the future” – Swami Sivananda.
There are ways out.
Spend the whole night yesterday without sleep. Read books, if fact three good novels at a stretch, in an extreme anxiety to get out of this. Books do help. Sometimes they show you that there is a whole different world and a parallel universe outside our narrow minded thought process.
It is strange how something another individual has written can help you. You see a lot of yourself in those characters. They lend a hand, pull you out and lead you back to your normal.
Moods, madness, life.