[TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE]
I walk towards my bed, every step I take weighing me down further. I’ve lost track of the days that passed by, lying in my bed all day long with silent tears dripping down my cheeks, feeling bone tired without doing anything, unable to find pleasure in anything. I drag my feet one last time, and collapse onto the bed, letting the mattress take some burden off me. Everything feels so heavy.
The phone on my bed vibrates with an incoming call. I reach over and cut the call without looking at the Caller ID, and blankly stare at the books adorning my bedroom walls. Reading was something that made me feel alive, but even they have lost their power to make me happy now. It's been a while since I’ve experienced something other than this all-consuming sadness and my mind being filled with thoughts that aren't treacherous and poisonous.
My eyes flutter close, but I don’t fall asleep despite the fatigue wearing me down, just like it has been for quite a while. I feel sleepy, but I can’t sleep. I do nothing, yet I feel the crushing weight of tiredness inside my body as if it's been battling an invisible demon. The tiniest of things have become the most insurmountable tasks. Looking at my own face in the mirror scares me, so I stopped doing it. I’ve become this pale, skinny thing, with the darkest, deepest circles under my eyes, cheekbones sticking out of the side of my face, and dirty, unkept hair springing off my head. I look like the ghost I used to describe to scare my little sister.
My little sister. An ache passes through my heart at the thought of my family. They’ve given me everything I’ve ever needed, supported me in every way, and paid for this expensive college though things were bad financially. And is this how I choose to pay them back? By becoming a ghost inside my room, not capable of standing for ten minutes straight before my legs collapse upon me. A strong feeling of hatred fills my chest. I never knew that my own thoughts could turn into my own enemy. Those traitorous thoughts turn against me, tainting everything inside my body and mind, rendering it useless. Just like I am right now.
And I agree with my thoughts. How useless can you be? My thoughts ask me. You’ve been acting as if someone died, but your life is perfect. Yet you continue to be like this every day.
The initial guilty thought summons waves of guilt that threaten to consume me entirely. I think of my mother who’d be wondering if she’d failed me in any way since I’m not picking up her calls, of my father staring at the phone with haunted eyes, worrying about his eldest son, and my sister thinking if she had angered me in some way. They don't deserve this. You don't deserve them. The wave of guilt rises every time I cut someone's call, every time I don't answer when my best friend begs me to open the door and talk, every time I look away from someone because I'm too tired to talk. That guilt makes me focus on every mistake I’ve ever committed in my entire life.
Takeout boxes of food surround me. I've eaten titbits of what I've ordered to get some energy and survive. But everything I try to eat more, nausea climbs up my throat and clamps it in a vice-like grip. And every time I pay for the food, guilt rises again. I’m wasting the money my parents gave me. They were so happy and proud when I got into this university, how would they react if they knew that their son wasn’t able to listen and concentrate on a single word that was uttered during classes? That he was no longer their cheerful, athletic son who always topped the exams, but was currently failing in every subject, unable to feel anything, not able to move a bone in his body without fatigue threatening to shut his body down completely, and that their son who loved social interactions can no longer stand being with others. Thoughts of worthlessness and guilt plague me daily, pushing me down.
I feel like I’m knee-deep in this thick, muddy substance. That is the only comparison I can make to express how I’m feeling. Every time I walk, I feel stuck in a jelly-like substance, willing my body to move and wade through it with difficulty. Every time I try to speak, I feel like my mouth is filled with something, the words coming out slower than usual, the syllables rolling out of my tongue feeling foreign. My thoughts aren’t a fast-flowing river like they used to be. I’m unable to concentrate or pay attention to others and my own thoughts.
This crushing sensation of sadness had crept up on me very quietly. It was barely noticeable at first: like a small shadow of sadness following me. I thought it would go away. But it didn’t. That shadow grew greatly in size, robbing my everything while it did.
An invisible battle: that is what it is. A phantom hand pushes me down, threatening to dunk my body beneath the murky water’s surface. And I struggle, trying my best to stay afloat and alive. Maybe that is why I feel so energy less these days: because I’m trying to survive, fighting an invisible enemy inside my head.
I'm stuck in a torturous, vicious, never-ending cycle.
How long will I feel like this? Will it get better sometime? After living like this for a few days, the haze in front of me clears. Everything is too much, and I'm sick of feeling this way, living this way. A straight path turns into a fork in front of me, and I realize I have two options to deal with this.
Number one: Call someone, tell them how you are feeling, and ask for help.
Number two: End this feeling. End everything. End your life.
Option one means that I’m putting my weight on them, burdening them with my meaningless concerns. I don’t want to ask too much of my parents, or make them worry about me more than necessary. They could put their worry on far more important topics than someone like me. I think of my childhood: how people around me subtly hinted at how I’m supposed behave and live since I’m a man. Don’t cry like a girl, a neighbour told me after I hurt myself when I was young and started crying. What would they say if they saw me right now? Pathetically locked up in my room, not able to do basic things like brushing my teeth, and constantly crying without any reason. Being a man means several things, my uncle told me when I was thirteen. Be aggressive, don’t cry or express your emotions like girls do. He said spat the latter sentence as if showing emotions made you bad. I’ve been enough of a shame, burden and a letdown, I guess.
Option two it is, then.
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This is a glimpse into someone suffering from Major Depressive Disorder, also known as MDD. It is a mood disorder. Everyone these days use the word ‘depression’ very lightly, to express trivial and basic things with exaggeration, unaware of how depression destroys everything in people suffering from it, the power it actually has over people. It causes severe symptoms that affect how one thinks, feels and handles daily activities. One has difficulty doing normal day-to-day activities, and might feel that life isn’t worth living. Depression is more than feeling sad. The person is plunged into a never-ending feeling of crushing sadness, can’t feel happy while doing the things they love, is plagued by feelings of guilt and worthlessness, are tired, eat very little or eat too much, sleep very little or sleep too much, and have recurrent thoughts of death. These above are some of the symptoms of depression, and they are expressed differently in different people: to be diagnosed with MDD, five or more of the nine symptoms in DSM-V must be present in the individual for more than two weeks.
It is high time that we stop using this term lightly, to understand what it exactly is and what a person goes through, and help people out.
If you feel like the above article accurately describes how you are feeling, do not hesitate to reach out for help. If you relate to the experiences depicted in this blog and feel like everything is too much, seek professional help from experts. Asking for help doesn’t mean you are weak.
- Chandana Bonagiri
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