When this whole ordeal began I couldn’t help but feel alone, distressed and worried about myself. But as things began moving along and the world kept revolving, with or without me, I realised my privilege. The thing is, it’s so easy to live in a bubble. There are people suffering more than us, but no, we’re still more important than them in our minds. Actually, life is very simple, you just have to keep breathing. When you have the basics covered that’s when you really start to see the relief.
By the basics, I mean food, water, and shelter. The fact that I have all three, I have both my parents and a sister who all love me very very much is a huge privilege. In fact, this whole gap year is a luxury. Luckily for me, they can afford my getting better and I can tell them I have a problem and it needs to be solved. Sometimes people go through this alone. They also don’t have the option of choosing treatment. While I am lucky and grateful, it does nothing to reduce their pain. The only reason I am writing this blog is because of the stigma around it and the silence makes me uncomfortable. I am not throwing some kind of pity party here.
I still cannot talk about depression without an awkward silence, or someone giving me a look of doubt. The whole point of making it public is not because I like to make a spectacle, but because people don’t want to talk about it. People want to pretend like it never happened. Why don’t they treat it like a legitimate disease? The day they stop treating it as a secret, that’s the day I’ll stop writing about depression. I use my journey because I can only recall and speak from my own experiences. Trust me, I have no interest in sharing my secrets with a stranger. Also, it’s my way of reflection.
They question why I write it, why I must make the journey public especially when it may affect me, does make me nervous. The term ‘tongues wag’ comes to mind. I know of nosy people judging me for it. Even if tongues do wag, if people really want to talk about me and have nothing else to discuss it’s kind of sad. I have the basics to survive this journey, I might even survive, I think. But not much can silence me, I have the right to talk about it. This is just a journey like any other and I am only human. If I wanted to make a statement I’d have different aspirations. Don’t you want to know what happens once I beat the depression? People write about so much, their lives, their battles with other diseases, their relationships. So why can’t I write about my depression?
This is a cathartic process, wherein I can get stuff out into the open, and maybe not have to hide behind a wall all the time. This is my way of beating the depression bit by bit. I can’t speak about it openly and make a big drama out of it when I meet you or on the telephone. But this is my way of facing it because I have always found a louder voice in my pen. I firmly believe others should find a way to converse about it too. If we give each other the confidence, we will be doing so much good.
If people believe there is nothing and continue believing that there is no support, imagine how many people we’d lose. It’s time we just let people be and accept them. We’re so good at pulling people down. We’re so good at making them feel bad about who they are. When will we begin to see the good in people? When will we allow them to say what they want to say? Why can’t we hear them out? It all comes down to the basics. Maybe one day people will understand, till then I’ll keep writing.