Bipolar Disorder

The American Psychiatric Association describes Bipolar Disorder as “… brain disorders that cause changes in a person’s mood, energy and ability to function. People with bipolar disorders have extreme and intense emotional states that occur at distinct times, called mood episodes. These mood episodes are categorized as manic, hypomanic or depressive.”

A friend of mine suffering from Bipolar Disorder describes it like this, “If Depression is a dark tunnel, Bipolar Disorder is a rollercoaster which takes you deep inside this tunnel and out of it, over and over again.” As a bystander, it was always an enigma as to what she might be going through. Each Day was a different experience in itself.

Her diagnosis came as a surprise. It was during a low phase in her life when her father, who was a Psychiatrist by profession, broke the news to her. It was almost like it broke her. Her father was as helpless looking at his daughter’s condition as she was in her depression.

Bipolar disorder
• Formerly known as manic depression, it is a condition that affects moods, which can swing from depression to mania
• Symptoms range from overwhelming feelings of worthlessness to feeling very happy and having lots of ambitious plans and ideas
• Each extreme episode can last several weeks
• Treatment includes mood stabilisers which are to be taken every day on a long-term basis, combined with talking therapy and lifestyle changes
Source: NHS

The medicines prescribed for a condition like this are called mood stabilizers. When you’re ecstatic, they lower your mood and when you’re deep in depression, they lift you up. The latter sounds like a good idea, making you feel better when you’re in a state of depression,  but when you’re ecstatic why would you want to suppress ?

Well, it’s because if you don’t take your medicines when you’re happy, they don’t work when you’re sad. Sounds complicated right? Imagine dealing with this every single day and convincing yourself that that medication is important for you. And that’s not even the main problem. You wake up every morning not knowing how you’re going to feel. You only wish for the mania to last but all good things come to an end and so do your happy days. One day you’re on cloud nine – all smiles, extremely productive and enthusiastic and the very next day, the light seems to fade away, you lose your will to get out of bed and who once seemed like an extremely positive person turns into negative and introverted shunning everything.

I saw my friend during her highs and I saw her during her lows. It was almost like she was a different person in a matter of weeks. As well-wishers, we always encouraged her to take her medicines but a certain question of hers always intrigued me – “If I need medicines to be normal then is it truly my normal?”

Bipolar Disorder is not when your mood changes each day, it occurs in phases i.e. a gradual process where each stage seems  to be stable for a while before shifting. The two extreme phases i.e. mania and depression could last several weeks or a few months before the shift happens and when it does, you get absorbed in it. Doctors do say that between the two extremes, comes a time which can be stated to be emotionally balanced but one cannot seem to decide when that happens. By the end of the day, you are left in an emotional turmoil, indeterminate and confused.

Problems like these made me appreciate what it feels like to be mentally healthy and appreciate my mental health more. When we feel low, we might ignore it for a really long time but there comes a point where it is okay to accept that there may be something wrong and seek help. Trust me, running away from something like this is not the better option.

It is difficult to comprehend what people having Bipolar disorder go through. That is why it is important to listen to their experiences. Let us look at one such young woman diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and how she is spreading awareness about her condition through art.

Missy Douglas and Bipolar Disorder
Missy Douglas was first diagnosed as bipolar aged 19 when she was studying art history at the University of Cambridge. She said it finally joined the dots as to why she often felt withdrawn and melancholic, or precocious and arrogant.

Fed up with keeping her mental health a secret,she spent a year creating a painting each day to express her feelings. Controversially, she decided not to take her medication during this time, in the hope that paintings demonstrating her highs and lows would raise awareness of her condition. The following are some of the paintings from her collection.

Day 177 by Missy Douglas

Day 177. “I was really in a dark place here. I was completely in a depressive phase.”

Day 236 by Missy Douglas

Day 236. “I was burying feelings and my emotions were all over the place. Very turbulent.”

Day 242 - by Missy Douglas (detail)

Day 242. “I was at the height of mania here, but there was a massive wave of white depression heading towards me.”

Day 314 - by Missy Douglas (detail)

Day 314 – Mania. “I was buzzing and everything was technicolor and beautiful. I was flying and felt invincible.”

Day 359 - Christmas Day 2013 - by Missy Douglas (detail)

Day 359 – Christmas Day 2013. “I was feeling very depressed yet I completely compartmentalised and concealed it. The twinkly forced jollity hid the sadness.”

Day 5 by Missy Douglas

Day 5. “I was really anxious, angry and feeling trapped.”

In 2009 Doughlas left the UK and established her own fine art studio and art school in Brussels. Two years later she headed to New York and now spends her time immersed in the creative scenes of Long Island, Queens and further afield in Seattle.

Missy Douglas composition

Image and information source

 Shristi

What it’s like living with depression

When I tell people for the first time that I’m depressed, people ask me the one question that, to this day, stumps me, makes me feel like I just pulled my tongue out of the freezer: ‘why’.

Courtesy : TeenRehab

Now, this question is not entirely strange; depression is a product of many things-from death of a family member, to divorce, to a messy breakup in romantic relationships, perpetual negative reinforcement from parents and society to a bajillion other things- can cause it. But there’s often an expectation that you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move the fuck on.

The real horror starts when, you don’t.

Failure is a part of life. Courtesy: osmanpek/Getty Images/iStockphoto

So I’m currently awaiting to determine how severe it is by a professional psychiatrist but I’ve come to understand that I’ve had depression for about eight months now. I can still function fairly normally and do most things expected of me. I can go to college and hold conversations, engage in a classroom and ask the teacher doubts, hold a decent CGPA and, if asked, have a ready answer about what I really want to do with my life.

Under most circumstances, there is no problem but, if you’d indulge me in a little bit of a cheesy sales pitch,

‘Would you want to wake up every day to want nothing more than to just go back to sleep for good? Would you like to feel tired for doing nothing and want nothing more to just have a sharp object so you can kill yourself?’

‘Then, boy oh boy I have the product for you its: depression!’

Depression is not just sadness. It is waking up every day with a heart full of pain for no discernible reason. It’s in the way happiness dies on our face because we are smiling to hide it from those who probably wouldn’t help anyway. It’s constantly, despite your best efforts, feeling completely and utterly useless and that, if you could die tomorrow, no one will give a shit. It’s being unable to feel anything if you can’t feel pain. No joy, no anger, no sadness just, the numb, emotional equivalent of TV static.

When nothing seems to matter. Courtesy: Elite Daily

Touching back on the pain, it’s the kind that feels like you are being eaten from the inside. That makes you a husk that simply cannot be filled. If it goes on long enough, it feels like you could go mad from it. Yet, all of this is discredited when unable to answer the simple question ‘why?’

When I quip and say I didn’t do it, throwing out how it’s possible that the death of three of my grandparents when I was in 12th affected me deeper than I ever let it, most retorts I get include ‘But they were old no?’ or ‘But that was years ago right? Why are you letting that affect you now?’ To this day, I have no idea why I have depression. It’s not something one chooses to have. As I said before, several things could trigger depression and it could manifest itself in many different ways.

To this day, I thought about killing myself several times. I looked at methods from hanging myself, to running a razor across my wrists, to starving myself; the only reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want to make my family unhappy I never attempted suicide yet. But I know I could if things go on like this.

To say that depression isn’t real is like saying one’s emotions aren’t real. Sure, many can’t see them or feel them but they are there. I’m sorry if this post makes you uncomfortable. Or reminds you of feelings that you’d rather forget about but I am telling you how I feel because I think no one deserves to suffer in silence.

 After all, silence is where the demons lie.

Courtesy: https://claudiathewolfgirl.deviantart.com/

–  Siva

The Degrees Of Depression

Cigarette buds. Substance abuse. Sleeved shirts to shut out speculations about the cause of the scars on your wrists.

Some posts have to be written from the heart. Some posts need not be perfect in  terms of grammar or structure. Some posts need not suffuse the eerie charm that it ought to have held. Some posts are essential nevertheless.

Into the void Source: Fine Art America

I spoke to a friend yesterday. Given the peculiar drop in the level of my conversations over the past six months, I must say that we had a fairly long conversation. We spoke about the bad cripples caused by depression and about the worse cripples caused by a lack of understanding about mental health.

Source: Pinterest

For those who lack awareness, depression is a feigned escape from personal responsibilities. It is a self induced state of mind where a creature is seen to be desperately craving for attention and support for problems that are apparently illusory.

 

Those who are sensible enough to understand that depression, like asthma or cancer is yet another disease plaguing human survival again seem to place themselves at the ends of multiples bifurcations within the common head titled ‘The aware lot’. Majority of the people fall under the sub-head where they visualize depression to be a mental state of mind which holds an ambience equivalent to hell. The insides are layered lavishly in a combination of darkness, sadness, helplessness, tiredness, substance abuse and suicide attempts.

 

The sufferer has been portrayed in a constant state of abuse and is seen to be self harming himself or herself endlessly. There is an abject lack of interest in waking up, doing your daily chores and survival in general.

Is depression hell on earth? Source: grahampeter.co.za/

 

This notion about depression reminds me of a post I read yesterday. The post spoke about feminism and equality. It said that most men when asked to imagine female liberation often visualized a reversal of roles where the woman holds the baton of a chauvinist in place of the male. The post went on to make an interesting observation that a man seems to have either a constraint in terms of imagination or he must be too apprehensive about the repercussions that he would be facing upon the reversal of roles.

 

An ample majority of people have the same limitation when it comes to understanding depression.Unlike the above example where it is completely erroneous to imagine equality along the lines of an inverted power structure, it isn’t completely preposterous to imagine depression as an equivalent to what we could call as the pinnacle of agony. Neither is it completely logical to compare the illness to such an extremity always. To put it simply, like fever, depression too can be measured in degrees. A severed wrist isn’t a mandate when it comes to diagnosing depression. There are less life-threatening yet painful symptoms that could be possible signs of depression.

 

The friend seated next to you with bleary eyes which you assume to be a result of a late night football match. Did you stop for a moment to ask him if he actually enjoys watching soccer? What if he went to bed at 9 pm in the night and fell asleep only at 4? What if it is a routine in his survival?

Source: Chronicles of a lumpy person

The colleague seated opposite your cubicle is unable to control his urge to masturbate. While your gang teases him for being a lecherous asshole, did any of you pause for a moment to contemplate the possibility of it being a serotonin imbalance?

 

Your girlfriend wakes up at 12 am in the night to binge on a packet of chips. She goes on to visit the restroom with two bottles full of water. A few moments later she falls back on bed content that the taste of the chips would linger just in her mouth and not as an additional layer of fat between her thighs. Master plan ain’t it? Or is it one? Have you ever read up on Bulimia ? Have you let those consequences scare you?

 

Source: Girls Gone Strong

Your next door neighbor sleeps ten hours a day. Yet at the mid-morning get together on a warm Sunday, you see him tired. This week. The week before. Two weeks back. Endless loop.  Is he just a sleepy head? A manifestation of Kumbhakarna as his father casually jokes around? Have you ever lost sleep about him? At least towards the fag end of the night when the burden of your suffering has exhausted its share of rants completely? What if maybe, it is hypersomnia? What if he actually wants to be active but isn’t able to?

 

Your own sister sleeping over your shoulder. Perfect job. Dream car. Childhood sweetheart. About to be married. You glance at her every night. A long jealous glance at her thick stock of hair. Her back facing you as she has curled up to sleep on the other side. What if despite this all, there is still a void. A void wrenching the depths of her existence. Dysthymia in medical terms. High functioning depression in layman terms. Wait. You are shocked ain’t you. You can’t believe that depression and high-functioning can be used together except with a punctuation mark separating them.

Source: DeviantArt

Have you ever tried to roll her over to your side? Maybe the tears are flowing down her eyes. Have you even contemplated giving it a single try?

 

I am not trying to say that every person we see might be suffering from mental illnesses irrespective of the magnitude. I am only trying to open your eyes to the possibility that  there is more to a mental illness than the portrait of a bearded man scoring weed endlessly with several deep cuts across his wrists. In terms of awareness, you are far ahead in the ladder when compared to truckloads of your counterparts who don’t even possess an iota of awareness about the distress. Yet, I believe that it isn’t enough and there is still a long way to go in order to shatter the stigma effectively.

 

Thank you.

 

-Maya

Sometimes I wish

 

breaking-down-the-shame-of-male-depression-rm-722x406

Sometimes I wish

The notion about depression amidst the masses turns true

Sometimes I wish

I could snap out of depression as my friend urges me to

Sometimes I wish

My mother’s lap could heal depression like magic

Sometimes I wish

My mind would clear through the traffic

Sometimes I wish

Suicide rants weren’t my brain’s beseech

Sometimes I wish

Serotonin grew on trees that were within reach

Sometimes I wish

Pills and Shocks led me to survival

At other times I wish

Depression didn’t kill me

Long before any of these wishes made their arrival.

-Anonymous

The Depression Dish

Silhouette of depressive man

It has been one..two..three..four..five

A decade of survival

A public facade hiding the despair

Six months of struggle

Six months of rejection

An ounce of words

Replace what once was abundance

A gallon of tears

Sixty nights of fears

Nine gazillion “It’s all in your mind” hoots

Negligible pinch of hope

Oozing In drops despite the cries to gush

Scratches of gore

First on the paper with a pen

Next on the skin with mine own blood

The words struggles, the blood dries

The funeral pyre of hope witnesses my cries

Withered. Broken. Crest fallen.

No glimmer of sunshine. I sit sullen.

The last act sees the chair go down

The noose tightens, reserving the grave beside hope

The Depression Dish is now ready to serve.

Please don’t forget to garnish it with my mother’s tears.

Depression is real

Depression…..

A word which is thrown about in today’s age of left leaning liberal millennialism as if it means nothing…..
Does it ?

depression_by_ajgiel-d7l4ewu

I was sitting one fine evening looking at the rain pouring down, the drops smudging the dust on the windowsill, looking like tears cascading down the glass pane…..Johny Cash was crooning out Hurt in my ears and I was reading the Color Purple by Alice Walker. I looked up to see the beautiful sight in front of me, and cried. Spontaneous, sudden…..unexpected. I wiped my tears away to prevent someone from knowing what had happened. Seems like a routine situation save doesn’t it ? I thought so too. Till I couldn’t go back to the book. Because my mind kept racing back like the prodigal son it was to what had just happened. Trying to decipher why it had happened. And why I decided to hide it. Looking towards the rain splattered outside….I tried to figure out….Why ?

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real 

breaking-down-the-shame-of-male-depression-rm-722x406

I was depressed. If I told people I was….They would ask me to ‘suck it up’, ‘grow a pair’ and other such phrases which people throw around without a hint of knowing what the consequences are. I was told to know my life was good and hence I should not feel entitled to depression. I was told I am loved and I had no reason to be hurt…..that I was just a spoilt little brat. I wasn’t. You see, Depression like most things do not go away with entitlement. It is hurt. No, not like a pin prick or a car crash or even like cancer. It is the indescribable feeling of an asphyxiating child being pushed inside an empty grave while all he tries to do is figure out the one last soliloquy he needs to sing to give his life meaning. That didn’t make sense ? Neither does depression. It is the feeling where you feel crushed and helpless, but you do not know why…..

I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

agony_by_hatakeyondaime-d6bgg0a

Next time someone tells you they are depressed, do not ask them to stop whining, do not presume you can help them…do not patronize them. Hug them. Let them know that the day they feel like ripping their face off in agony…..they can run and come to you. Hug you. Cry on your shoulders…..let them know that in a planet of over a billion people, they can turn to one. Trust me, the pain, the agony, the smoldering fire of madness which cannot be rhymed or reasoned with…all they need is the solace of a comforting fellow human. For the warmth of a human heart is the medicine to anything, while the jeers of human wrath is the ever present conservative hand shutting a person down. Let the depression sink in. Let it stay. So do you. I didn’t figure out the reasons for the tears yet….I never needed to. Loving friends and family ensured I finished my book in peace and enjoyed subsequent nights of torrential downpour in all it’s natural beauty. Depression is real. Not a social media whack, not a rich person’s perpetual whines…..It is a issue affecting the human psyche. In today’s fast paced world….We all have been depressed sometime or the other. And a depressed person needs support. Not antagonism. Support. Because depression is real. It is a red flag, an incessant drone at the back of the human mind…..Depression is real.

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

– Soumyajyoti Bhattacharya

Image Credits : Google Images

Depression

I woke up today,
with an heart almost broken,
Bleeding tears through every crack left open,
My soul feels ice cold, and there’s voices in my head,
Silently screaming all at once,I don’t know if I’m alive or if I’m dead,

Everyday feels worse, I can’t keep my eyes open,
Everytime I shut them down, nightmares awaken,
I feel pain and I feel numb, paralyzed but shaken,
Hateful eyes spitting venom, my safe places all forsaken,

Will anybody miss me? Will anybody care?
Will they even notice when I’m no longer there?
I feel invisible, I’m choking on myself,
My mind feels claustrophobic like it’s crushing on itself,

It’s hard to go to bed, and It’s hard to wake up,
Like a dog without his bone, I feel lost and all alone,
I want somebody to know, I want somebody to care,
But I’m too afraid being judged, when I leave my feelings bare,

All my tears feel like acid, My voice is always broken,
I just want to see, a Human Being being human.

Just another cut, Just another scratch,
“What’s that little mark?” “No, that was just my cat”
Just another excuse, Just another lie,
“You wear bracelets now?” “Just fashion, why?”
Just another tear, Just another scream,
“Vishal, were you crying?” “No, Just had a bad dream”
It’s not just a cut, or a tear or a lie,
It’s always just one more, till the day that I die.

– Vishal Muralidharan

For a Friend

What goes through people when they decide to take their own lives ? I would never know….. I have never been there. I would never want to either. But I know something else. Grief. Grief of losing someone you cared about. Grief of losing someone you wish you knew better. Grief of losing someone you wish you had spoken with one last time before there was no more time left. Grief of losing the joyful soul of a friend untimely to the perilous hands of death. Death by suicide.

Gourab was a jolly young man. I remember my initial impression of him as the guy on whom was attached the stigma of having an year back in school. However, I would want him to be remembered for anything but that now. He not only overturned his educational problems by working hard during the time I knew him, but also always did it with a smile. A smile which made me happy. Made probably everyone he knew happy. Little did we know the happiness was hiding something far more painful than anything we could even fathom. Gourab wasn’t the first friend I had lost in my school life. I had lost another friend named Soumyadeep to leukaemia. However, this was different. And far more painful. I do not know if any philosopher has made any analogy to link age with emotional distress and pain; however, I know it for a fact that an analogy is not too far off. Or it was just the fact that Gourab’s suicide was out of the blue. Shock has that lingering memory which claws at you, asking you how things could be different. Was I close to him ? I do not know about others, but from where I am from, you do not study in a class for two of the toughest of your adolescent years and not be close. From analysing our favorite club Manchester United together to the time spent playing football after school, from playing hand cricket all through boring Chemistry hours to meeting up and discussing movies at uninteresting tuitions, he had been a quintessential friend during those years. Moving to SRM did bring a heavy toll on my social life with my friends back in Kolkata, for in trying to settle in within a culture shock and catching upto engineering I had been guilty of ignoring the people I loved the most. And that included Gourab. Two years of studying engineering passed by in a breeze, I settled down in my new life and with new friends, till a friend called me up on that fateful day to tell me Gourab had committed suicide. I would be lying if I say I ever expected something remotely similar to happen. I didn’t really know what to do. I was not shocked, not sad…..I felt nothing. I attended class as usual. Went about my day….till it was lunch break and a friend expressed gratitude for me sharing my food with him. That is when it hit me. The abyss of having lost a friend. The feelings reverberated in me till I could hold it no more. I cried. Long and hard. I didn’t know why, or what even really brought this, I just did. Gourab’s death brought me sadness. Sadness which passed but for moments of passing grief on specific days of the year. His death brought me misery which accompanies the shocking misery associated with losing loved ones. Even that passed. What didn’t pass was regret. Suicide is not accidental or biological, it is the result of constant crippling psychological trauma. And I could have been a better friend, maybe even tried to find out if everything was okay. All those busy school fests, I could have taken an evening out to call a dear friend and ask him if he was doing fine. Catch up on our shared anger at Moyes’s mishandling of ManUtd. Tell him how engineering is sapping the life out of both of us. Tell him, “Chill, It’s a burden we both are sharing, and it’s a burden we can split between us”. Explain to him by telling that ” Don’t go friend, this world is tough, and one less friend is one less shoulder to cry on when the going gets tough.” Maybe even offer my shoulder for him to vent his grief out on. Like a brother. But why would I ? Gourab was always happy, and psychological stress is hardly a problem. Till this world’s refusal to see a problem for what it is was too late, my blindness to a friend’s misery was perpetrated to an extent where it didn’t see through a facade. And when the facade fell, so did a dear friend.

Gourab is no mere friend, brother, son lost to suicide. He is one of many martyrs, who have cleared the clout in our minds surrounding mental stress and psychological illness. I will never commit suicide, and I ensure I checkup on everyone I love, telling them that they are loved, ensuring that they know they have some place to go to in order to vent, not lose it all in inevitable death. Suicide is as real a threat as HIV or Zika, but my friend taught me it can be fought……together. I loved him like a brother, and wish his soul peace. More importantly, I wish him gratitude. He left me a life where I knew that nothing could be more important that people close to you, and they could have demons like you, but far more terrifying. I will be there for them. I am sorry I couldn’t be there once. That is my demon, and I am fighting it. This is not an eulogy, it is a letter acknowledging something I have never done. Dear friend, thank you for being there, thank you in life and in death, and thank you for leaving me with a wonderful touch of perspective. And know, I miss knowing that every night I go to sleep, you are safe in some part of the globe. Goodbye dear friend. I promise I will not let what you taught me in life and in death go to waste. I promise.

– Soumyajyoti Bhattacharya

Image Credits : Google Images

Recognizing the warning signs of Suicide in people & helping them

 

According to the WHO, on an average, one person commits suicide every 40 seconds.

Suicide is a complex phenomenon and not an illness in and of itself. Suicidal ideas and attempts are important to look for and evaluate. Unquestionably it is hard to predict who will attempt suicide but, it is possible to characterize the risk aspects keeping in mind that it is a risk and not an absolute prediction.

Some of the common predictors of suicide are persons undergoing extreme/ acute emotional distress of any cause. This could be symptoms of depression or other psychiatric disorders, there could be acute changes in interpersonal relational status, any acute loss/ change in financial status. This is the one characteristic that is most obvious to outside observers who could be friends, family or well wishers of the individual. This is a time when all those who care for the person suffering could express their support by “Just being there”.

Hopelessness as a thought characteristic is significantly associated with suicide. This is basically a sense of there being no future for the person. This could occur in the context of again life stresses such as a breakup, financial losses. Persons experiencing hopelessness may appear listless, not interested in looking towards the future – even towards the immediate future – not wanting to go out, dejected and saying as much.

Substance abuse whether alcohol or other drugs especially increases the risk of suicide in individuals. It has the ability to impair a persons world view and make things appear more bleak than they are.

There are other risk factors that are associated with suicide attempts including a prior history of suicide attempts or self injurious behaviors, family history of suicide, exposure to suicide in a family member or significant person, and exposure to physical or sexual abuse. These factors may increase the possibility that the person experiencing distress currently is at a higher risk of harming self.

So, what can any other person do to help their loved one?

Families and friends are scared of hearing the word suicidal in the context of their loved ones. Rather than jumping to conclusion that they need to be taken to a psychiatrist/ counsellor, the easiest thing that can be done is to be there for the person in distress. This would involve just being present, letting them know that you are there to help if they need and most importantly there is someone if they want to talk.

The sense of having someone nearby who cares for them has a significantly soothing effect on individuals.

A patient, non-judgmental hearing of the persons woes before asking the question “How can I help?” will also go a long way in helping persons put their current problems in perspective. This would enable them making better choices in the form of not harming themselves. Finally before closing, it would be helpful to finish with a sense of hope in the form of saying something like “If there are problems, then there must be solutions and we can find them together”.

-Dr. Shiva Prakash

————————————————————————-

Note from the LonePack Team:

People who’re going through a tough time find it difficult to ask for help. It could be anyone from our silent classmate, to the girl we sit next to on the bus.

Can we help show our peers that the world is not devoid of hope anymore?

So reach out to them, and write them a message. LonePack will publish them all on their Facebook “Wall Of Positivity” on Sept. 10th, which marks World Suicide Prevention Day.
Send in your message and share to keep the chain of positivity going. Do join us in spreading some joy and showing some support to the people who need it.   

So, tell me, did you spread some positivity today?

-The LonePack Team

Image Credits: flickr.com

Take Aim

For the past few months, I’ve been predominantly in the concave downwards parabola of my life, wondering where exactly did I go wrong.

Luck, fortune, opportunity, everything seemed to slip away from me. I kept telling myself that things will be better, they did become so, but the dragon of despair soon destroyed any vestiges of my floaty happiness.

Reduced to a monotonous life of assignments and tests with rather unfair outcomes, my soul became troubled. The pressure mounted so much, all types mind you, parental, peer and college. And yet, I refused to become depressed. After the Great Depression of 2008 (more on that in a separate post), I refused to trouble my body with stress, forced myself to sleep well. In spite of that, this semester has made me push myself to the limits.

Letting my mind fight it all alone, because my pride wouldn’t let me confide further to anyone, I became a bit moody, bit more self-pitying, bit more sarcastic and a teensy bit defensive. I became addicted to Facebook and messaging and TV but wasn’t enjoying it at all. That was so because I would only relax when I couldn’t do work anymore and my mind would still be on it. Or worse, it wouldn’t be and I would go on a guilt trip.

Today, at the fag end of the semester, I received news that my previous semester grades have been reviewed and moved up.

The clouds just seemed to disappear all of a sudden, it seemed like a good omen. In retrospect, I looked extremely silly in my head. Yes, the pressures were immense but that was simply the struggle of the caterpillar. Now almost freed from class labs, I finally have time for myself, to delve into my Pensieve.

And that is exactly what I have done. Somehow, writing gives me a clarity like nothing else.

I suddenly saw the light at the end of my tunnel and I’ve decided to be the butterfly chasing the sunbeam and it has taken aim.

-Sowmya. S

Note: This post was initially published on the personal blog of the author (http://thegreatindianstoryteller.blogspot.in) and has been reproduced with permission

-Photo Credits: blogtraitim.info