Just because I am depressed and trying to get better, doesn’t mean I am spending my time hatching eggs. I have come to the conclusion that it’s when you’re down low that you have to do the most amount of work. Getting better is work in itself, but a lot of the time you need distractions from getting better. It’s a gruelling enough task without you having to dwell on it every second. It’s when you dwell on it, that you question how far you’ve come and in seconds you’ve undone all of your progress.
It’s hard for me to focus and concentrate when I am on all this medication. So contrary to the ‘normality’ of medication I am aware that I am on medication every second because I can feel it, whether it’s that headache that never gets better or the drowsiness that stays with me from morning till night. I need something to distract me from the physical pain of getting better. So I keep myself busy writing, whether it’s articles or this blog. It’s not easy because it means I am doing my work while I am motivated to do anything but work. The real work is what I have been avoiding to do since I came back to India, the leftovers from the other country. I can’t escape it because every day I debate whether I am going back or not, whether I can face the music once I go back and more importantly whether it’s worth it?
I spent my whole life thinking it’s worth it, that all this hard work would get me to my success. Suddenly I felt like nothing was worth it, the excitement was sucked out. It was like the music was muted out of the blue and instead of technicolour, all I was seeing was static on the TV screen. That fear still stays with me, when no matter how much you clean your ears you can’t hear anything. Some days it rips me to shreds and I wake up at square one, lonely and helpless. Some days when the nightmares are less intense I appreciate the nature outside the window but most days are hard. All that keeps me going is my writing, it can be a poem or my journal from when I was sixteen. It might even be one of these blogs I am writing. I know work is a distraction but it does the job.
At least now I feel like my days have produced something of use. It’s more about keeping myself going than anything else. I know of a time when I used to be crunching out words at a speed four times of what I do now. It reminds me that I am lesser than I was, but it also tells me that I needed to slow down. Now I ponder every word before putting pen to paper. I forgot how to savour my writing. Now I sink my teeth into what I write and enjoy the process. You can say I believe in what I write, I don’t have to pretend to please. It’s a huge weight off my shoulders. I think I hit my first writer’s block when I was writing to please rather than writing what I felt.
They say you have to be ‘objective’ and ‘neutral’ to make an impact. But honestly, the mark of a human being is the fact that they are not objective beings, humans feel. It’s the computer’s job to be ‘neutral’ it helps improve grammar. But a thought is invariably an outcome of what one feels. Why do you think we like some literature and hate the others? It’s because we like what relates to us not what makes sense and sometimes even if it makes no logical sense. Philosophy is a product of thought, shaped by circumstance and situations. Whoever says that philosophies are not contextual doesn’t have a handle on philosophy. You think Kant was simply critiquing pure reason on an off day?
But that was not the point I was trying to make, the point is writing keeps me busy. And when the therapist asked me what the five things are that define me, I said writing. I am still coming to terms with the fact that I was able to tell her five things. I immediately thought of this blog. Amidst all the ramblings I can see how far I have come. If nothing and no one reads this I will still continue to write it because it reminds me of my experiences. It makes me a little more brave than I was yesterday.
I guess one day I’ll look back at this and cringe, but right now I don’t mind. I can sit and pity myself all day long, trust me I have enough material to do that. But, I’d rather spend my time thinking what to write next, or write about what I want to write next. It helps fight what I am fighting, brings a little of my old self back, the one that raced like a train. While I miss her, she needs a little respite and maybe early retirement. If she really matters, she’ll come back.