“Speak up, please feel free; I won’t judge you” she said, that was my counselor doing what she did best, making me talk. The ice had to be broken, it wasn’t just an ice; a gigantic ice berg rather. The tip of it now visible to all who knew me, the bummock all within me. It felt heavy as I gathered my guts and repressed self to lay bare all the insecurities that had held the mind captive. Although, the first session didn’t go as planned, with me choking and fighting my tears; I knew for a fact that I had to open up. Perhaps, for the first time in a couple of years I was sensing the presence of people around me who genuinely cared. The struggle of coping with the loss of something I had imagined would stay for life had taken me down to such a low wherein sense and sensibility where just mere terms which had vacated the realms of my now depressed life.
The loss of a relationship was one thing; the loss of reputation was far greater, from celebrating appraisals at workplace to being perceived to be a lethargic and negative individual; I had seen both the bright and dark sides of the moon. My attempts at downplaying the turmoil that was brewing inside all through had sown the seeds of depression that was now threatening to cripple my capacity at trying to be what I had once set my sight on. All in all, the attempts were in vain as by now I had realized my failure at holding up, my pretense at trying to be strong had just thrown me into a pit which now resembled a black hole; there seemed no escape and there wasn’t one.
Cut to where I was: initially there were apprehensions; ‘What if people got to know that I was undergoing counselling’; ‘What would the psychiatrist tell me?’; ‘Was I a mental patient?’.
The demons now had found a new ally in the form of doubts which were equipping them with more artillery to wage a war against my sanity. War it was, thoughts and convictions had gone for a toss as I literally had to coax myself in dragging my worn-out self to the psychiatrist’s chamber. With my cousin giving me company, I knew there would be someone to hold me if I collapsed.
The first counselling session lasted well over an hour, with me breaking down in phases in between, the counselor was considerate enough in not fiddling around with too many questions as she had understood the kind of recluse I had transformed myself into. My issues coupled with the dependence on alcohol did me no favors; I had realized it by the time I had broken down for the first time. There wasn’t any hope but certainly there was this faint bit of belief that I could come out of the mess. I was made to do a couple of breathing exercises that would help me in calming my nerves. I didn’t come out confident, but rather I was relieved that I could finally talk at length about the issues which had infested and infected my mind.
I now look forward, to the next session which is due ten days from now; maybe it’ll further help me in sieving out the negativity which has made home within me. The fiercest of battles I have ever engaged in is with myself, I’ll lay down my arms; for I need to embrace myself, hug myself tighter than I ever did. I and all of myself, need myself more than ever now, I’ll be my own saving grace.
P.S: Mental health isn’t something that can be swept under the carpet, coming out in the open about my struggles isn’t an attempt at garnering sympathy; rather it’s about me opening up. Perhaps, someone; somewhere, reading this will connect to it. To anyone who might be feeling drained too, know for a fact that you can slay your demons only when you choose to face them.
abhishek purkayastha 